by Ami Diane
He reached for the weapon, but Flo quickly drew it away, tucking it into her brazier, ensuring no one would try to reach for it.
“Anyway, that gun shoots out tightly-grouped pulses of light in a specific pattern of wavelengths that temporarily disrupt these electrochemical signals along the optic nerve. That’s the simplified version, anyway.”
Ella had begun picking at her scone again, nodding her head. When he finished, she said, “So, how does it work again?” Will let out an exasperated sigh before she added, “I’m kidding. That’s very cool. But here’s a question: why the deuce does she have this technology?”
Flo grinned.
“Because,” Will said, his voice pained, “I needed batteries, and she’s got a stockpile of them.”
“You made a deal with the devil for batteries?”
Jimmy, who’d been quiet during this exchange up until now, thudded his palms onto the table and glared daggers at Flo. “You’ve been withholding batteries? You were supposed to report your stock years ago to the committee.”
“Why? So they could take what’s mine? It’s not my problem people failed to have a supply—”
“Hoarder,” Ella said, masking it loudly with a cough.
Flo growled. “I’d be happy to share, of course, for trade. They ain’t free.”
Before the conversation could proceed, getting threatening close to the divisive topics of capitalism and socialism, a voice called from the distant entrance hall.
Chapter 30
THE THUD OF boots preceded Chapman’s entrance into the kitchen. He held his derby hat in his hands, his thick gray hair swept back with a pomade of some sort.
“Thought I’d find you all here.”
“Good guess, Sherlock.” Flo took up her nail file again, her topsy-turvy gun suspiciously absent. Beside her, Wink dug her elbow into her best friend’s side.
Ella used her foot to scoot out the empty chair opposite her. He took the cue and sat, groaning along with the chair.
“Well?” she said when he didn’t speak. “Did she admit to killing Darren?”
“She did,” he paused to thank Rose as she set a cup of coffee in front of him. Sipping, the man took as long as winter before speaking again. “And her prints match the set I found on the cannonball. This is what I’ve gathered after having a spell with the both of ‘em. When Mr. Herrera’s ship crashed, the treasure was still aboard—”
Flo interrupted. “Who’s Mr. Herrera?”
“Diego,” Ella answered then shushed the boarder.
“He was the last of his crew,” Chapman continued, “or so he claims. The others were thrown overboard. I don’t expect we’ll ever really know for certain if that’s true.
“Anyway, he thought he’d crashed off the coast of Florida. He stumbled around his new surroundings in search of help when he came across a horse in the field, Six’s buckskin is my guess. And, despite his injuries, he moved the treasure. Buried it in the forest just behind the greenhouses. By his account, it took several trips, and he was near passing out when he went back for his last load.
“That’s when Ms. Heinzman happened upon him. The last load held that painting she so badly wants. She wanted to take him to get medical attention then and there, but he refused to leave behind the rest of the treasure.
“So, together, they buried the last lot. He didn’t want her knowing about the rest, so he guided her to bury it in a different spot. And she figured she’d approach him once he recovered about the lost artwork he had in his possession.
“Anyhow, you know the rest. The sailor convalesced at the inn quickly. The moment he felt well enough to ride, he borrowed a neighbor’s horse, went to both treasure sites, and relocated the loot deeper into the forest.
“Around that time, Ms. Heinzman said she went looking for the painting where they’d buried it. She claimed she just wanted to see it again, had no ill intentions, but all she found was fresh, overturned earth.
“When she asked Mr. Herrera about it, he shrugged and spoke in Spanish, a language she only knew a little. Word of the pirate and his treasure spread. And soon, too many others were pestering him about his buried gold. He moved out of the inn, only to be seen on rare occasions since.”
“What about food? And water?” Ella asked.
“Well, after his short supply ran out, he snuck into town during the night and met up with Ms. Heinzman. Through their language barrier, he set up a deal with her to supply him with the essentials. At first, she did it out of the goodness of her heart, but I suspect she had an ulterior motive.”
“She thought she could get the location of the painting from him,” Ella supplied.
“That’s my guess. During that time, the teacher got to know him, tried to learn more of his language, taught him hers, all the while, pressing him about the painting.
“For the next couple years, she supplied him with food and water and taught him English. He’d holed himself up in an extensive cave system that’s behind the east Twin Hill. To show his appreciation, he gave her gold jewelry periodically.”
The cross necklace, she thought.
“I think he genuinely thought they were friends, and maybe on some level, she thought so, too.”
“All the while,” Ella said, “she was using him.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Quid pro quo.”
Flo looked up from her nails. “You can’t just make up words.”
Ella rolled her eyes and muttered about the old woman needing to read more books under her breath while Wink told Flo to zip it.
“Get to the good part, lawman,” Flo said, ignoring them both.
“And by ‘good part’, you mean where a man died?” Ella asked.
Chapman cleared his throat. “Patience, Flo.”
“Insufferable woman,” Flo murmured.
“He didn’t mean the councilwoman,” Wink cut in.
Chapman fidgeted with his hat, waiting for them to finish. When the table had fallen silent again, he continued. “Ms. Heinzman, from the sound of it, became obsessed with the painting. Really built it up in her head. She even teamed up with Mr. Alexander to try to find the treasure. They agreed to use her connection to the sailor to set up a meeting between the two of them at the shipwreck. She also lied and told him she’d seen a treasure map but that the pirate still had it. Anyway, the plan was, Mr. Alexander would lie in wait, and they’d corner the pirate until he outed the location of the treasure.
“But then she overheard Mr. Alexander telling the missus that he’d cut her out once they found the treasure. She confessed that it was at that moment that she planned on doing him in.
“At their meeting, before the pirate got there, she climbed onto the deck of the ship, waited for Mr. Alexander to walk below, then dropped a cannonball atop his head.”
Ella winced. “That explains the blunt-force trauma.” But not the post-mortem rope marks around his neck. “So, he was hanged after that?”
Chapman nodded. “Yep, looks like it.”
“Diego did it, didn’t he?” At the sheriff’s suspicious glance, she added, “the rope burns on his arms, remember?”
“That’s right. Once she killed Mr. Alexander, she ran. The pirate arrived for their meeting only to find Mr. Alexander’s body instead. He knew he’d be fingered for the crime, but he also saw an opportunity.”
“If everyone thought he was dead,” Ella said, “they’d stop hunting him.” Chapman nodded. “But how’d he know someone would come along and see the body soon after?”
“It’s a popular spot right now. The terrain creates a perfect shoreline. It was just a matter of time before Mr. Alexander was discovered. He only needed one person to witness the dead man in his clothes before the rumor would spread that the pirate was dead.”
“And that’s what happened,” Will said.
“After you left, Ms. Barton, the sailor cut the man down and disposed of his body. Obviously, not very well.”
“Why not jus
t throw it in the ocean?” she asked. Her stomach turned at the callousness of both Diego and Maria.
“Like I said, he knew he’d be blamed for the man’s death, or at the very least, his disappearance. And the switch with the body bought him time. He thought Six was behind it. That’s why he dumped the body on Six’s property instead of the ocean. See, he needed the body in order to throw suspicion off himself.”
A shadow passed over the picture window so quickly Ella wondered if it had been her imagination. A bird probably.
The glass vibrated in the pane as a feral noise rose up, causing all the hairs on her arm to stand on end. The eery cry continued, a throaty screech.
Nobody moved.
When the sound finally faded, Ella cleared her throat. “That lawn mower sure sounds like it could use a good mechanic.”
“El, I don’t think that was—” Will’s mouth stopped moving as she pressed her finger to his lips.
“Sh, let me have this one.” As it was, she was going to have nightmares for a week.
The roar rose again, this time from a different direction, deeper and more guttural, causing a chill that went into her bones.
When the animalistic cry finally died, the glass stilled. Whatever had made that sound had to have the lung capacity of a blimp.
“Yep,” she said, her voice small and shrill. “Sounds like a bad motor.”
The floor vibrated with what felt like an earthquake. Something dark darted past the inn. Then another.
Like a wave, everyone rushed to the window, pressing their noses to the glass. Unless lawn mowers suddenly had reptilian skin and ran on two legs, the bellow had not come from yard equipment, and she was forced to reconcile with the fear that had been growing in her chest since she’d first heard it.
She swallowed. “Holy Jurassic Park! Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes,” Will answered.
Well, this was going to be interesting.
TRAVELING TOWN MYSTERIES
GHASTLY
GLITCH
AMI DIANE
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organization, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2019 Ami Diane
All rights reserved.
Printed and bound in USA. First Printing March 2019
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief passages
(200 words or fewer) in a review.
Amazon and the Amazon logo are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
Cover design by Ruda Studio. Images courtesy of Adobe Stock photos.
V.09182019.1
Copyright © 2019 Ami Diane
All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
ELLA BARTON SWUNG the kitchen door in, only to discover the room empty. A pile of dishes from a late lunch sat soaking in the sink, the water no doubt cold by now.
Searching the large mansion-turned-inn-turned-boarding house for the Troublesome Twosome was proving to be a challenge. Except for innkeepers Jimmy and Rose’s bedroom, there was only one place she had yet to look.
Before she ducked out of the kitchen, her eyes snagged on a raw cut of beef the size of her head sitting on a plate on the counter. Blood pooled beneath it like a swimming pool. Grimacing, she turned away, wondering if Rose was planning to feed half of Keystone Village.
In the hallway, voices floated up from the open basement door—the place she’d yet to look, and that included the attic. It had occurred to her to start there, knowing Wink and Flo would most likely be down there, but she’d wanted to put it off as long as possible. Girding herself with a deep breath, she plunged into the dank abyss, following the shrill argument within its depths.
The false wall that typically hid Flo’s weapons bunker stood agape, a glowing square in brick. The long, secret room had once been a speakeasy before the crazy boarder laid claim to it for the purpose of storing her large cache of weapons. Since she’d relocated nearly all of her armament to keep it from being confiscated by the sheriff, it now served as more of a workshop to test her exotic weapons.
And exotic they were. Ella did a double take at a section of the wall that was glowing radioactive green.
Flo and Wink were tucked in a dark corner in the back, huddled over a Prohibition-era bar. A book sat open on the aged wood between them, its pages lay bare. Flo currently had a gnarled finger stabbed at a section, and neither had noticed Ella yet. The fact alone that the woman was within ten feet of a book was indicative that either hell had frozen over or the world was coming to an end. Knowing them, it was the latter, an apocalypse no doubt brought on by their doing.
“Says here,” the old woman was saying to Wink, her beehive hairdo teetering, “that it’s an allosaurus.” She stopped short when she finally spotted Ella.
Wink, whose back was to Ella, said, “And? Does it say how big he’ll get?”
“How big who will get?” Ella asked.
Wink spun. Even in the dim light, the flush in her boss’s cheeks was noticeable. “Nothing. No one.” She coughed and tucked a hot pink strand of hair behind her ear. Her white roots looked like a racing stripe over her crown. “Are those new pants? I like them.”
“They’re the same ill-fitting, inappropriate pair she always wears,” Flo cut in.
“Thanks, Flo.”
Leaning over the bar top, Ella dragged the book towards her, drawing protests from both senior citizens. It was an encyclopedia on dinosaurs, and judging by the scent of dust emanating from it like an aura, it had come from the inn’s extensive library.
“We were curious about the local wildlife,” Wink supplied, a little too hastily.
Nine days prior, Keystone Village had transported to a new location, sometime during the Jurassic period experts had quickly figured out. Rather, it had been a couple of farmers who’d spotted a heard of the reptiles devouring their crops and had identified them in a book. But the identification was as close to armchair paleontology as the town could get.
Not only did they have to contend with dinosaurs running amok, but the town must’ve jumped near the equator because it was hotter and muggier than the worst weather in the tropics.
“Fair enough,” Ella said slowly.
Something wasn’t right, and not just because Flo was reading and showing interest in something that didn’t maim, bang, or have a trigger pull. No, Wink was the tell. Her hands fidgeted over the bar more than a pianist, and her eyes wandered everywhere but at Ella.
Footsteps dragged across the concrete floor behind Ella accompanied by a guttural noise that wasn’t human. She spun.
It took several heartbeats for her brain to catch up to what her eyes were seeing. “Fruity Pebbles! It’s a dinosaur!”
Ella grabbed for the nearest of Flo’s weapons that had been left behind before the Great Purge. It was a baseball bat with spike—a homemade mace—only the spikes were dozens of small electronic antennae.
Wink shouted for her to stop while Flo yelled, “Not the bat!”
Too late.
Ella already had the bat mid-swing. It whooshed through the air with an electric hum. It crackled in her hand, and as the weapon swung towards its target, teal lightning bolts shot out in all directions.
She flew back, hit the brick wall, and slid down it. All of the air in her lungs had decided to vacate, and she was left gasping. Some of the teal bolts still bounced around the room like bouncy balls.
Both Wink and Flo dove for cover, narrowly missing Wink’s head. When the last had fizzled out, they all climbed to their feet. Ella left the bat where it lay and patted the dust from her pants. “Something burning?”
“Wink’s hair,” Flo said, casually.
Th
e diner owner yelped, dousing the top of her head with a nearby cup of tea.
The cause of Ella’s reaction moved, making her jolt. She’d forgotten about the stinking dinosaur.
“Relax, Poodle Head,” Flo said. “It’s just a baby.”
“You call that a baby? It’s the size of a middle schooler.”
Wink was at her side, the smell of burnt hair wafting in her wake. “Don’t freak out, El.”
“Freak out? What makes you think I’m freaking out?”
“Because your voice is doing that thing where it goes really high. And don’t talk so loud,” Wink warned her. “He doesn’t like it.”
“I can’t help it. When I see something with teeth like knives, I talk loud. That’s how most sane people would react.”
The air filled with the sound of heavy breathing, most of it coming from Ella.
The dinosaur—what had Flo called it? An allosaurus?—its doleful eyes looked up at her, inset in pebbled skin that was a color somewhere between tan and green.
She and the animal were stuck in a staring contest for several breaths before the creature licked its mouth, showing off unnecessarily sharp teeth that would make the Jaws of Life jealous.
Ella pointed a shaking hand at the beast who continued to stare at her like Ella did a piece of cake. “There’s a dinosaur. Inside. Under the same roof where I sleep. What-why?”
She kept her front pointed towards the allosaurus as she shuffled back and collapsed onto a dusty stool at the bar, putting Flo between her and the animal. Maybe it liked shriveled, bitter humans whose hair looked like cotton candy.
“His name’s Peanut, and he’s an allosaurus.” Wink’s mouth thinned into a line as she glanced down at the book. “At least we think. Although, Flo, now that I’m looking closer, I think he might be a dilophosaurus.”