Knocking on Death's Door

by Lucy Quinn

  Her mother turned to the rest of her crew. “Do you realize we’re getting a second chance here?” She thrust her hips, which made the pot lids at her groin clash with a loud bang. “Think of the possibilities!”

  Cookie couldn’t help but chuckle as the Pussycat Posse walked toward the inn, all of them talking at once. But then she sobered. It occurred to her that Rain had encountered enough dead bodies in the last year that she had reached a point where they were no longer traumatizing for her. Cookie wasn’t sure how she should feel about that.

  As Dylan worked on the tire, the crowd thinned. The show was over, and since Cookie had no intention of opening the trunk again until no one was around, there was nothing left for people to see.

  By the time the truck was back in running order, the street had cleared of most of the parade participants, and it was an easy trip to the ferry. When they got there, Dylan and Cookie climbed out of the truck and went to stand by the float as they waited for Frankie.

  The salty air blew gently around Cookie, and she lifted her face to the coolness as she tried to imagine how a dead body had ended up in the trunk of the yellow convertible. She let out a heavy sigh, hoisted herself up on the float, and snapped on a pair of sterile gloves she’d grabbed from the container she kept in the glove compartment of her truck. She needed to open the trunk again and see if she could find any ID on the body.

  Without a word, Dylan hopped up next to her and reached over to lift the hatch for Cookie. It occurred to her that she and Dylan had slipped easily into a silent language, knowing each other well enough to predict what they were doing. Most of the time anyway, and she smiled to herself as she wondered when that had happened. Her life on Secret Seal Isle had become as close to perfect as she could imagine, and Dylan was a big reason why.

  Cookie breathed through her mouth to deal with the stench as she reached into the dead man’s back pocket and found a wallet. After flipping it open, she found only one bank card and a health insurance card. For the second time that day, her stomach sank, and then ice flooded her veins as she recognized the name she read to Dylan. “Simon Gallo.”

  The man had recently been serving a five-year sentence for crimes related to the DeMasi mob, whose boss Cookie had taken down during her tenure with the FBI. DeMasi’s threat of revenge was the reason she and her mother were hiding out on Secret Seal Isle as innkeepers. And now she was afraid that Simon had gotten out of prison and been all too happy to help his boss with a vendetta.

  Dylan gripped her arm lightly as he asked, “Cookie? What is it?”

  She gazed up at him as her hands began to tremble. “I think I’m in trouble.”

  3

  “My agency put Simon behind bars for a real estate scam, and he’s part of the DeMasi mob.” Cookie looked at the dead body in the trunk of the Chrysler convertible. Judging by the state of Simon’s corpse, he’d been dead for a couple days or more, and her mind quickly put two and two together to realize that over fifty people had participated in the dump sweep three days ago to gather parade supplies. That made each one of them a suspect in what was quickly turning into a difficult investigation.

  Dylan took her hand and squeezed gently. He didn’t have to say a word for Cookie to know he’d be by her side no matter what happened. After a scare a three months ago when Cookie accidently got in front of a news camera, Dylan and her best friend Scarlett had cleaned up the mess by confiscating the tape. And she’d told Dylan the whole story of how and why she and Rain had come to Secret Seal Isle. Cookie had thought that her identity would still remain a secret thanks to her friends’ quick work, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  She gazed up at Dylan and let her fear show through her usually strong exterior. “What if Simon was sent for me?”

  “Then we’ll have to thank whoever killed him.”

  Cookie gave Dylan a wry smile. “I guess we’d better find out who it was.”

  “Where do we start, boss?” Dylan asked.

  Cookie looked out at the ferry as its horn rang out and spotted Frankie standing on the top deck. She lifted her arm to wave at the girl. “With her,” she said to Dylan as she climbed down to meet the ME. Dylan quickly followed.

  Once the ferry was docked and Frankie had the medical examiner’s van parked next to the float, she got out and took a moment to gaze at the Chrysler. She looked the same as always in her skinny jeans, lace-up boots, and short leather jacket. Her dark hair was pulled back into two pony tails, and combined with her black-rimmed glasses, she looked like a hot librarian. “That’s one sweet car,” she said. “Such a shame nobody took care of her though.”

  Dylan jumped up on the float and reached a hand down to help Frankie. Then he did the same for Cookie. While she certainly didn’t need his help, Cookie was glad to take it. Her nerves were shot as she worried the mob might know her location, and she needed every little bit of support Dylan could give her.

  Frankie lifted the trunk and sighed in relief. “Thank god, this looks like an easy one.” She leaned down to inspect his neck. “No signs of suffocation or strangulation.” Frankie lifted up the guy’s hands and checked his nails. “No obvious sign of a struggle either.” She glanced back at Cookie. “Any reason to suspect it might not be the gunshot that killed him?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Good, because I’m up to my ears in bodies and it could be a while before I get to this one. I’m going to venture a guess and say this guy died from a gunshot to the heart. Did you find any ID?”

  “I found his wallet and we know who he is, but if you could get the bullet to ballistics that would be great,” Cookie said.

  “Will do,” Frankie said as she handed Dylan a pair of gloves. “Let’s get this guy on ice.”

  As the three of them lifted Simon’s body out of the trunk, Cookie noticed an earring and made a note to grab it later. Frankie left assuring Cookie that as soon as she’d performed the autopsy, a report would be sent over. Since murders seemed to follow Cookie, she’d taken to keeping investigative supplies in her truck, and she went to the cab to grab the box of sealable plastic bags to gather up the earring she’d discovered along with any other evidence they might find in the trunk of the Chrysler.

  “Whatcha got there?” Dylan asked when Cookie lifted up a dangly piece of jewelry that looked familiar.

  “It’s an earring,” Cookie said as she turned the bauble back and forth, inspecting it. It was made of silver and jingled softly as it moved. She tried to figure out where she’d seen the design before.

  “Could have gotten caught on the body when the killer was stuffing it in the trunk.”

  And the earring could belong to any one of the dozens of people who had been at the junkyard a few days ago. Cookie said, “The supply sweep means we’ve got a lot of suspects.”

  We’re going to need help. She looked at Dylan as it occurred to her Hunter was the help they needed. But she was hesitant. While she hadn’t seen her former partner in a while, Hunter had made it known he still carried a torch for Cookie the last time he’d been on the island, and it made for a sticky situation she wanted to avoid.

  But Cookie was a professional who knew to use all the resources available, so she peeled the glove off her hand and reached in her pocket for her phone.

  He answered on the second ring. “Charlie, it’s great to hear your voice. What—” Hunter let out a groan. “Don’t tell me, another murder?”

  “Well, good afternoon to you too,” Cookie said. “Can’t a friend call to catch up without being accused of having an ulterior motive?”

  “Sure, she can. Did you catch the Phillies game yesterday?”

  She chuckled, because sports were not something they ever talked about. “Fine. You’re right. I called because I need your help with something.”

  “A murder investigation?”

  Cookie sighed. “Yes.” She explained to Hunter what had happened at the parade and the details of the junkyard sweep that were making her investigation difficult
due to the sheer number of suspects. “So,” she said. “I need you to run a background check on the residents of Secret Seal Isle.”

  Hunter chuckled. “The whole town?”

  “No. Just the ones who participated in the Miss Dumpy parade.”

  “What?”

  “It was intended to help bring in tourists and—”

  “Never mind. Get me some names and consider it done.”

  “And there’s something else,” Cookie said. She needed to tell Hunter that Simon Gallo was the dead man, but she knew Hunter’s protective instincts would kick in and that he’d want to come swooping in to take over. She held up the earring she’d found under the murder victim and eyed it as she asked, “What’s the latest on the DeMasis?”

  “Simon Gallo was just released from—hold on, why are you asking, Charlie?” His voice got stern. “Did you ID the vic yet?”

  “It’s Simon,” Cookie reluctantly admitted.

  “Charlie! What is wrong with you?”

  Cookie heard a clatter and could picture Hunter grabbing his car keys with the intention of racing to the airport and boarding the next flight to Boston. “Stop right there, Agent O’Neil. I do not need you to come rescue me, thank you very much. What I need is for you to do the background checks.”

  “I don’t like it. You should be out of there and at a safe house.”

  “I know, but it’s complicated. Here’s the thing, June Loon is looking at Rain for this.” Cookie knew that June wouldn’t find anything on her mother, but she also knew Hunter understood Cookie would never stay out of something involving Rain. “And besides which, I’m a suspect too. I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.”

  Hunter let out a heavy sigh, and she pictured him rubbing his clean-shaven head. “Is that Creed guy helping you?”

  “Yes.” She smiled, because no matter how much Hunter disliked Dylan for being the one Cookie loved, he did respect the man’s skills and dedication to her. “Dylan’s right here.”

  Dylan called out, “And I’m not leaving her side!”

  “Good,” Hunter said. “Be smart. You hear me?”

  “I will be,” she said as worry came rushing back. Hunter was right. Cookie knew that she and Rain would be safest if they left the island for a safe house, but she wasn’t ready to give up everything she had on Secret Seal Isle. Especially Dylan. She held up the earring she was holding and wiggled it again as she said, “I’ll text you the list of dump sweep participants. Thanks, Hunter.”

  When Cookie heard the musical tinkle of the earring again it hit her where she’d heard it before, and she clicked off her phone as she looked at Dylan. “I think this belongs to Cari.”

  “Wow,” Dylan said. “Crazy Cari sure doesn’t seem the murdering type.”

  Cookie gazed at him as she thought the same thing. But she knew she couldn’t let her feelings get in the way of an investigation, and that while it was likely Cari was innocent, a good investigator didn’t leave any stone unturned. She said, “I think we just found our first lead.”

  4

  Cookie and Dylan were silent as they drove back to the inn. While he was driving, she sent a series of texts to Hunter, naming every business and their employees who’d had a float in the parade. When she was done, she’d come up with close to forty names. Hunter had replied with one word.

  Seriously?

  She typed back one word: yup. Then she put her phone away.

  The air was cooler now that the light of day was fading. Late spring on the island blessed them with warm days, but the nights turned cold fast. DeMasi’s face flashed in her memory. She saw his toothy smile full of teeth yellowed by cigarettes, his slicked back hair shining like a warning beacon, and the way his beady eyes seemed to bore into her that day in the courtroom when he swore Cookie would pay for what she’d done. A shiver raced down Cookie’s spine, and Dylan reached for her hand. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, but she threaded her fingers through Dylan’s to make sure he wouldn’t let go.

  “Look. I heard what you told Hunter, but if you need to take Rain and go somewhere safe, I think you should.”

  Now that the two men in her life both thought Cookie should leave the island, she had a hard time denying they were probably right. But how could she make Rain leave? She knew her mother loved living on Secret Seal Isle. She had watched Rain flourish in her new environment over the last year as if island life was what her mother was born for.

  Rain had taken on the Miss Dumpy parade and made it shine the way she’d done with the holiday revue last December. The woman knew almost every resident in this town and had a seat of honor on the grapevine. How could Cookie tear her away from that?

  There was also the matter of Cookie’s love life. She’d finally found a man who made her heart soar, and she had entertained a few thoughts about a lifetime with him. She wasn’t willing to give up Dylan so easily either. “What about us?” she asked.

  Dylan squeezed her hand in his. “I’m by your side wherever you go.”

  “No,” Cookie said, a little more harshly than she’d intended. While ripping Rain from Secret Seal seemed cruel, taking Dylan from the place he’d grown up was unimaginable. “I will not have you leave this island and everyone you love to be with me. I can’t ask you to do that.”

  They’d reached the inn, and he turned off the ignition of the truck before he gave her his full attention. “You didn’t ask. And don’t you think that’s my decision to make?”

  “Dylan.”

  “Face it, Cookie, I’m smitten. I’m in this for the long haul, and if you and Rain need to bug out for a while, I’m going with you.”

  Warmth filled Cookie’s heart even though she struggled with the idea of Dylan sacrificing for her. “You’re smitten?” she asked as she gazed into his steel-blue eyes that could melt her on the spot.

  Dylan chuckled. “That’s the part you’re focused on? How about the long-haul piece?”

  Heat rose to Cookie’s cheeks. “Yeah. I like that part too.”

  Dylan scooted closer and glanced at her mouth before he looked in her eyes again. Then he leaned in, his warm lips brushing over hers.

  Cookie let herself get lost in his kiss, eager to put DeMasi and Simon out of her mind. But her reprieve was short-lived.

  “Cookie!” Loud knocking sounded on the truck’s door. “Get out of there. I need to talk to you! It’s important.”

  Dylan pulled back and let out a soft groan of annoyance.

  Cookie pressed her forehead to his feeling like a teenager out past curfew and whispered, “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”

  He chuckled. “No can do, Cookie. And it looks like she isn’t going away anytime soon. Rain check on the make-out session?”

  She let out a small huff of laughter. “Is that what we were doing?”

  “We were about to get there.” He gave her a small wink and opened his door.

  “Cookie!” her mother called again.

  She shook her head and climbed out of the truck. “Where’s the fire?” she asked her mother.

  Rain, dressed in ripped jeans and a T-shirt that said The Cat’s Meow across the front, placed both hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “That meddlesome June Loon just called to tell me I’m her prime suspect in that poor man’s murder. Me. Can you believe it? You know this is because she has the hots for Hale, don’t you?”

  Cookie cleared her throat. “She called specifically to tell you that?”

  “Yes! She told me that me and the Pussycat Posse aren’t allowed to leave town and that if we did, she’d put warrants out for our arrest. Can you believe her? She has some nerve. If this gets out, do you know what it’s going to do to our reservations this summer? No one wants to stay at a murderess’s inn.”

  “You’re not a murderess,” Cookie said calmly, but her insides were jumping. She’d been right when she’d told Hunter they couldn’t leave the island. Which meant the urgency to solve the murder just rampe
d-up tenfold. If Simon had been sent for her, then DeMasi wouldn’t waste time sending another hit man after her. And if they couldn’t flee, they’d be sitting ducks.

  “Well I know that, and you know that, but June Loon has it out for me. I know it’s because she has the hots for Hale.” Outrage flashed through Rain’s eyes. “Did you see the way she was looking at him?”

  “I can’t say I noticed,” Cookie said, suddenly tired. “But I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Mom. Hale isn’t interested in her.”

  “That’s right, Rain.” Hale walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. As he nuzzled her neck, he said, “You’re the only one for me, my little hippy goddess.”

  Rain giggled.

  Cookie shook her head, slightly exasperated. Leave it to Rain to be more worried about June making a move on her boyfriend than the fact that she was now a suspect in a murder. “Can we go inside now?”

  Rain turned a critical eye on her daughter. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Cookie glanced around at the members of the Pussycat Posse and Scarlett standing on the front porch. Sadness swept over her as she imagined the pair of the them leaving everything they’d found on the island. Or worse, not leaving and leading the mob straight to their circle of friends. “Can we go inside and talk over coffee?”

  “Of course.” Rain slipped her arm through Cookie’s. “I got an extra-large bottle of Caribbean rum. I’m pretty sure a shot or six in our javas are exactly what we need right now.”

  “Really, Mom? I don’t think alcohol is exactly the best call right this minute.”

  “Why not?” Rain placed her hands on her hips. “It’s not like anyone is going anywhere. And if we’re going to get arrested, then I think this is the perfect time for a little liquid courage.”

  “She has a point, Cookie,” Scarlett called from the porch, tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder. “Get in here and I’ll set out the leftover pastries from breakfast. If we’re going to indulge, then we might as well go for it.”