by Agatha Ball
Haunting at High Tide
—-
Book 5 – Paige Comber Mystery
by Agatha Ball
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Books by Agatha Ball
Legal Stuff
Chapter One
A crisp wind swept through the open door. It wound its way past the checkers tables, the black potbelly stove, and old wooden bookshelves. It smelled of leaves, which mingled with the heady scent of new books, pumpkin spice, and coffee. Captain, the shop's orange tabby cat, lifted his sleepy head from his sundrenched, plaid, pillow-throne in the window to blink adoringly, as if to say, "Man, this fall stuff is great."
I paused for a moment as I loaded up the Bitter Bean's pastry case with little cupcakes I had draped with white fondant to look like ghosts. I drank in the feeling of autumn and just smiled. Life was good.
My name is Paige Comber. My dream had always been to travel to Paris and learn all the tricks of the trade so I could come back and open a place just like Bitter Beans. It's funny how life decided to hand me a shortcut instead. Back in June, my mom sent me to work in my grandmother's coffee shop here in the tiny island village of Seaside. She thought it would make me run screaming. Instead, it just made me love baking more. Last month, Granny made me co-owner of Bitter Beans and suddenly, my dream was realized. I was now the head baker as Granny started handing things over, and spent more of her time finding the perfect space for an historical museum she and her fiancé dreamed of opening. And also, plan for their dream wedding in the spring.
And it didn't hurt that Seaside was also home to a really great guy named Nate. We had been seeing each other since practically the first day he set foot on the island and life with him couldn't be better. My mom had shown up last month, ready to haul me home. But faced with having to leave Seaside, it just made me realize how much I wanted to stay here forever.
Plus, it was my first October on the island. When I was little, Mom and I would spend the summer helping Granny out, but school always reared its ugly head and called me home. I was stuck trudging my way through Faulkner while everyone else had all the fun.
But not this year. This year, I got to start celebrating Halloween from Day One, and there were still thirty days left to enjoy.
The wind toyed with the paper bats I had cut out and hung from the ceiling, causing them to swing. It rustled the fake cotton cobwebs that now covered our normally meticulously dusted shelves. Battery-powered candles flickered between our books, I hoped luring casual readers over to find out what was so illuminating. I had even changed out our tourist guides and beach reads with tales of all the ghosts supposedly haunting this old village.
And then, my bakes.
This was the part I was most proud of.
I had dipped apples in caramel and rolled them in Halloween sprinkles. I had dunked pretzel sticks in green chocolate to make monster fingers. I had even created little werewolf cake pops decorated with coconut fur. Granny might be looking to open a museum, but I felt like I had my own little gallery of art in the display case.
I closed up the mirrored door and gazed upon my creations. There was a feeling that bubbled up in my chest, a foreign sensation. And then I realized I was proud. In fact, when I took in the entire shop, softly allowing myself to admire everything I had done, yes, I was proud. This shop was everything I could hope for and I had done right by it. It was a success because of my contributions, and that wasn't nothing.
Captain lifted his little orange head again and gave a little "meow" as if to say he was proud of me, too.
"Thank you, Captain, my captain," I said, giving him a little bow as I dusted off my hands.
Our mutual admiration society was interrupted, though, as Granny and her Posse power-walked into the store. She had three best friends, Wanda, Marnie, and Holly, who were fellow shop owners on Main Street. They had been meeting up every day for years to take a morning hike around the town before the ferry came in, and were better than a newspaper for staying informed on Seaside events.
"Paige! I need a refill!" called Wanda, coming over as she took the lid off a purple thermos mug that read 'Witch's Brew'. She had gotten into the holiday spirit, too, from a black t-shirt bedazzled with white rhinestone ghosts saying "Booooo-tiful" to her orange-dyed, spiky hair.
I reached out and smiled. "What's the morning report from the Seaside posse?"
Holly leaned against the counter, blinking behind her thick, owl-like spectacles. Secretively, she shared, "Well, I hear that someone may have found the perfect home for the new historical society." Then she pointed at my pastry case. "And I'm going to need you to bribe me with one of those pumpkin cream cheese frosted cookies if you want any more information."
Granny laughed. "Holly! You're leaking the news like a joke wineglass!"
"By the by, I ordered some of those for my shop," Wanda informed me, "in case you hear of anyone wanting to do some tricks this season. They're next to the pile of rubber spiders and whoopee cushions."
"Well, I'm going to need one of those cookies, too, to maintain my strength after this morning's forced march," said Marnie. She flicked her long, gray braid over her shoulder. "And I have to say, I think your Granny is a little jealous of how pretty Holly's general store is with the renovations. A little competition seemed to up the ante. I think she's getting serious about this museum."
Holly was in the process of renovating her shop, changing it out from a 1970s laminate and linoleum wonderland to a modern throwback to a turn-of-the-century vibe. The store's walls were already covered in white subway tiles, and the black cabinetry, dark hardwood floors and iron fixtures were on their way. It wasn't done yet, but it was already so much prettier.
In the process of her renovations last month, though, we had discovered a lost treasure in her walls and the need for our little town to have a museum. And, as luck would have it, Granny's fiancé, Richard, had always dreamed of curating such a space. They had been searching for the perfect spot for the past couple weeks. On an island as small as ours, unfortunately it was slim pickings. There hadn't even been a hint of any residents pulling up roots and moving to the mainland. Granny and Richard had gotten so desperate as to suggest bringing in some double-wide trailers until a building opened. Both Granny and Richard nixed it almost as soon as the suggestion emerged from their lips, but that was the level of need they were feeling. So, for them to have found a potential space was fabulous.
"Where?" I asked. I handed Wanda her refill and grabbed some bags for the baked bribes.
"Well," said Granny, "Over by the Grand Hotel, there is the hardware shop. You know. The one owned by Ralph."
All the women in Granny's posse nodded their heads with exc
itement. I, personally, only had a passing acquaintance with Ralph, but had been inside his shop a couple times when we needed duct tape.
Granny leaned in to share the secret. "A little bird told us that he's thinking he is ready to retire and his building will be going up for sale." She gave me a hopeful smile, like she couldn't believe the luck. "Richard just happened to be coming over on the morning ferry for a visit. I can hardly wait to show him!"
"That is fantastic!" I exclaimed as I used the tongs to gently lift out the cookies for Holly and Marnie. "Way to get in before anyone else hears the news!"
Wanda struck a glamorous pose. "Knowing things before anyone else is what we do best."
Granny laughed and then asked me, "Want to close up for a few minutes once the morning rush is done and check it out with us?"
"Absolutely!" I said, handing over the treats.
"It could be so perfect," Holly remarked, biting the head off her bat cookie. "Lovely tall ceilings, beautiful old building, and in a prime location. I just hope no one else hears about it before your Granny can snatch it up."
Chapter Two
When I heard the ferry's horn announcing it was rolling into the dock, I took a moment to glance down the street. I wanted to gauge the size of the morning rush. I was selfishly excited about sneaking out to see the hardware store and hoped the crowd wouldn't be huge. Fortunately or unfortunately, I didn't have too much to fear. Things had quieted down quite a bit on the island compared to the summer as families went back to school. Last month, my mom's old boyfriend, Hal, had shown up to film a documentary about the treasures we discovered in Holly's general store. We were hoping that once the show hit the airwaves, the ferries would be packed. It hadn't aired yet, though, so things were still pretty quiet.
I saw Richard walk down the gangplank. I don't know who spent more time getting their hair just right – my granny with her black bouffant or Richard with his brill creamed white hair. One way or another, they were a perfect couple. He leaned over for a kiss, and I could see Granny laugh and try to wipe her magenta lipstick from beneath his waxed mustache. Hand in hand, they strolled down Main Street together, her in her purple velour tracksuit and high-heeled tennis shoes, him in his tweed jacket and bowtie, making quite the fashion statement.
I took my place behind the counter as the small crowd of visitors made their way to this end of the Main Street. As I finished with the last person, my tummy fluttered as I saw the smiling face of one of my most favorite people walk through the door.
"Nate!" I called.
His hands were filled with a pile of papers, but that didn't stop him from strolling over to give me a kiss.
Leaning over the counter, I reached up and brushed back a lock of his floppy brown hair, then rested my hand on his cheek. Sweetly, I asked, "What's that you're carrying? And why do I think you're not just here for a friendly hello?'
"Maybe because I'm here to get a cup of your delicious coffee?" he offered, charmingly lying through his teeth.
I booped his crooked nose. "Ummmhmmm... Spill it."
"I can't get anything past you," he laughed. He pulled one of the sheets off the top of the stack and held it up for me to see. It was a flyer for the Seaside Halloween festival. "Any chance I could hang one of these in your window?"
Nate's family owned almost all of the land on the island for the good part of a century. His uncle wasn't a very nice man, however, so when he died and Nate inherited Seaside, he took it upon himself to take better care of this place. He had all sorts of ideas to help preserve the rich history of the island, while still making sure the shop owners were able to make ends meet.
I took one of the flyers. It seemed like so much fun, something I would have come to even if I wasn't one of the island's residents. "Vendors? A kiddie area to trick-or-treat? Pumpkin cannons? This is so cool!" I said with excitement.
"I'm afraid I can't take any credit this time," he replied. "I'm just helping out. I guess that the Halloween Festival is a long standing tradition." He leaned forward conspiringly. "But I gotta admit, I'm more than happy to not be the person people get angry with if things go wrong."
I laughed. Since he moved here, the poor guy was always left holding the stick when things went south, whether or not it was his fault. It's tough being the person in charge. It's like you have a target painted on your back for all the people who want to point out how you're doing it wrong.
Casually, he mentioned. "You know... vendor tables are available if Bitter Beans would like to have a physical presence. It's a great opportunity to connect with new audiences."
I swatted him with the flyer. "Always trying to lure me in, aren't you?"
"Merely supporting the interests of our local business owners!" he protested, but then leaned over and gave me another long soft kiss. "Can't help that you're my favorite business owner on the island," he murmured.
I pulled away reluctantly. "Well, how can I say no to that?" I grabbed the tape and handed it to him. "I'll check with Granny. Now, I'll put this flyer on the counter if you want to hang some in the window."
"Aye, aye!" he said with a little salute before turning around. "Captain! I'm about to invade your space!" he warned the cat.
Captain sleepily rolled onto his back, showing off his soft belly to the sunbeams.
I started up Nate's regular, an Americano of our darkest beans straight up, and appreciated the view as he walked away to hang the posters.
"You off to anywhere today?" he asked, reaching up to put one in the highest corner of the glass.
As the espresso machine hissed, I replied, "I was about to ditch this popsicle stand. Ralph at the hardware store is wanting to retire. Granny thinks it might be just the right fit for the new historical society."
"That sounds perfect!" Nate replied, eyeballing the poster to see if he got it level.
"I was going to head over as soon as the morning rush died down to check it out. Want to come?"
Over his shoulder, he flashed me his dazzling smile. "Well, as luck would have it, I need to head over to the Grand Hotel to take some flyers, which just happens to be across the road."
"My lucky day!" I exclaimed, finishing his drink. I took off my apron and dashed a quick text message to Granny that we were on our way. "Allow me to accompany you!"
I flipped the door sign to "Back in Twenty Minutes", locked up the shop, and grabbed Nate's hand, lacing my fingers through his. We strolled down Main Street. Even though it was just the first week of October, the boardwalk was already showing signs of the season. The flower baskets that hung from the lampposts had been filled with orange and yellow marigolds and mums. The shops' windows were decorated with Halloween merchandise and pumpkins were piled up beside doorways.
When we arrived at Trevor's saloon, we turned right and headed up the hill. On one side was the Grand Hotel and its beautiful gardens. I had participated in a bakeoff there and it was how Granny and Richard reconnected. But across the street was a two-story, tan brick building. It had a large row of industrial sized windows paned in painted black metal. I think once upon a time, it had been a garage, and then Ralph turned it into the town's hardware store. While it had once been taken care of, it was clear that Ralph was slowing down. The frosted windows were dirty and grass was growing in the cracks of the sidewalk.
Granny and Richard were waiting outside and waved to us as soon as we came into sight.
"Well, what do you think?" Granny asked, presenting the shop like she was a showgirl on a game show.
I was awash with the possibilities. There was already such a sense of history to the place. It had so much character, it hit some deep chord in me. It deserved to be taken care of. It deserved to be the home to Seaside's history. "I think it will be perfect."
"It is great that it will be across the street from the hotel," Nate commented, hooking his thumb toward the entrance of the ol' Grand. "Anyone visiting will suddenly have a place to go."
"Not to mention classing up the neighborhood a b
it," Granny whispered under her breath. "I mean... you go for a stroll after your wedding reception and the first thing you see are a bunch of wheelbarrows and garden rakes?" She shook her head at how wrong that was.
Richard pushed back a little. "It has its own rustic charm," he protested good-naturedly. "And if you've forgotten to buy a gift for the bride and groom, well, there's plenty in there to help a young couple setting up their first place."
Granny corrected him. "No one wants a garden hose at their reception!"
Richard leaned towards me. "And this is why I will not be in charge of our gift registry." Granny laughed, and then Richard cleared his throat. "Shall we take a spin inside?"
Granny tucked her hand into Richard's elbow and gazed at him adoringly, "Yes."
The entrance was a set of double wooden doors tucked back in an alcove that Ralph had flanked with a display of faded nylon wind spinners and discounted garden decor. I was careful not to knock over the cheap resin gnomes and plastic frogs dressed as fly fishermen.
Inside the shop, it was a mess. I could see why Ralph had decided it was time to retire. It exhausted me to think of keeping this place up, and I was sixty-years younger. Shelves sat unstocked. Boxes sat unopened. Ralph sat snoozing behind the counter. He wore a quilted flannel jacket over a plaid flannel shirt, and his head bobbed up and down as he made little puppy snores.
"Ralph!" Granny called loudly. "You awake?"
His eyes popped open and he jerked back to reality, trying to pretend he hadn't been counting the sheep in dreamland. "I'm here! What are you hollering about? Whaddaya want?"
"We want to look around the place!" she shouted.
"What?" He turned up his hearing aids.
"We want to look around the place!"
"Oh! Sure! Sure!" He waved at us to make ourselves comfortable. "Take all the time you need!" And then he turned down his hearing aids, folded his arms across his belly, and nodded off again.
We all collectively took in the place, and I gotta admit, it was a little overwhelming. The hardware store was definitely more function over form. There were temporary walls put in place to hold the ratchets and rakes people might want to buy. Lots of metal shelves filled with hammers and screws. The floor was the original concrete, complete with faded oil stains, and the bricks were visible behind the peg-wall panels that went only halfway up.