Mission to Murder (A Tourist Trap Mystery) Read online

  Carrie showed up to take our orders. “I’m sure I could let the kitchen know you’re both here. But let’s go through the motions. What can I get for you?” She regarded me first.

  “I’m having a house salad, bleu cheese dressing on the side, and a bowl of loaded potato soup. But Amy’s going to surprise you.”

  “God, you’d think I shaved my head and become a Buddhist.” Amy kicked me under the table. “I’ll have the grilled pastrami on rye with a side salad. And a strawberry milkshake.”

  “Crap, I forgot about the shake. No problem. But no club?” Carrie reached out to touch Amy’s forehead to see if she felt hot.

  “Did I say I wanted a club? Jeez, people change their minds.” Amy pulled her head back out of Carrie’s reach.

  Carrie yanked the menus off the table. “Don’t get huffy. I have enough to do with Nick out.”

  “Did Nick call in sick?” After the talk I’d had with Sadie, I didn’t want to hear the answer, but like looking at a car wreck on the side of the road, I couldn’t stop from asking.

  “Nope. The kid didn’t show. Lille’s hopping mad. She got called in on her day off to wash dishes. He’s going to get an earful tomorrow.” Carrie turned and headed back to the kitchen, picking up plates and taking refill drink orders on the way.

  “Looks like it’s going to be a leisurely lunch hour.” Amy leaned back. “So you probably want to know about Hank and the weekend.”

  “Actually, I wanted to know if anyone at The Castle complained to the council about teenagers.”

  I knew Amy wanted to talk about Hank. The four of us drove to the city for dinner as a double date two weeks ago. Hank dominated the conversation from the time we got in the car to the time Greg dropped the couple off at Amy’s apartment. Hank was a disaster. I avoided the subject at all costs, but one day, the Hank discussion would happen. Then Amy would be crushed I didn’t see his warm and loving side. But that conversation wasn’t happening today.

  “The Castle?” Amy tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. “Actually, Craig had an appointment with the mayor last week. I figured he was arguing for more advertising funding from the city. You know he thinks the only reason anyone comes to South Cove is to visit The Castle.”

  I knew. All the business owners knew Craig Morgan’s opinion of them. In fact, Craig wasn’t shy about calling us bloodsucking parasites to our faces. Sure, visitors to The Castle brought in shoppers. But sometimes, the traffic happened to flow from the town to The Castle. God knows, I’d sent my share of tourists to his door. And still he wanted the entire allotment of the chamber’s marketing money? He even refused to come to the Business to Business meetings because he was busy, running a “real company.” Like I wasn’t?

  Well, I guess with Aunt Jackie and Toby working the floor, I wasn’t quite as busy as I’d been. But the shop was hopping. I’d filled my empty time finishing renovating the house I’d inherited from Miss Emily. Not to mention hours working with the historical commission on certifying the stone wall in the back of the property as the “real” South Cove Mission site. If the certification ever came through, South Cove would have a second historic site to promote. Craig wasn’t happy about sharing the marketing money now. His reaction to sharing the budget with the mission site wouldn’t be pretty.

  “You don’t think he’s working the historical commission against certifying the site, do you?” Fear gripped my stomach. If the commission even smelled a whiff of community discordance around the project, they’d back off the process.

  “I wouldn’t put it past him. Ever since you shut down Eric’s development plans, the mayor hasn’t been too happy with you.” Amy scanned the packed diner. Most tables were still without food.

  “I didn’t shut down Eric Ammond’s development. His lying, stealing, murdering girlfriend handled that on her own!” I couldn’t believe Amy was blaming me for the development shutting down. If I hadn’t found her, she’d still be surfing on a reclusive island off the coast of Mexico. Okay, well, she could blame me a little. Surfing would be more calming than trying to manage all the jobs she had going here in town. But still, you’d think she’d be a little grateful.

  “Everyone knows the crazy ex-schoolteacher bombed the project. Except His Honor The Mayor. Marvin still can’t say your name without spitting.” Amy nodded to Carrie on her way over with a tray. “Maybe we’re getting lucky.”

  We were. Carrie dropped off food for us and the next table over. She stopped at the booth for a quick second. “Nick finally showed. He claimed his girlfriend needed a ride into the city and he thought they’d be back long before his shift started.” Carrie leaned down and whispered, “You can bet what she wanted. She’s going to ruin his reputation. Mark my words.”

  Amy watched Carrie walk away, then brightened as if she remembered something. “Oh, Esmeralda says to tell you hello. She wants you to come in for a reading.” Amy laughed. “She said she threw your cards or whatever mumbo jumbo.”

  Esmeralda was South Cove’s fortune-teller and police dispatcher. If my house won the prize for being the oldest building in town, Esmeralda’s came in a quick second. The mayor loved her. As long as she kept foreseeing a great future for the man, he left her housing code issues alone. She’d done a quick read on me once in the mayor’s lobby. Now, the fortune-teller and I were best friends—not. “What did the cards say this time?”

  Amy grinned. She pointed her French fry at me and said in a lowered imitation of Esmeralda’s voice so good, the words gave me goose bumps, “Death surrounds you again.”

  CHAPTER 2

  I’d decided to head Craig Morgan’s attack off at the pass. I would drive to The Castle and confront Craig on campaigning against the mission wall certification. It wasn’t like I wanted a historical site in my backyard. I’d been planning on putting up a hammock in the trees back by the creek. Now that I knew the mission site existed, I felt responsible for taking care of the wall and the history it represented. And that meant protecting the stone blocks from money-grubbing walruses like Morgan.

  I grabbed one of the day-old pastries I’d pulled from the back room of the shop yesterday and headed out to my Jeep. After winning the inheritance lottery last year when my friend Miss Emily passed on her worldly possessions (and problems) to me, I could afford to replace my falling-apart POS. I hadn’t had the time. Or the heart. I loved the car, even if it did break down consistently. Greg warned me he would drive me to the car lot himself the next time the Jeep broke down.

  Emma whined when I picked up my purse.

  “Let me get your leash,” I chided the golden retriever, a housewarming gift from Greg and the love of my life—at least my pet life. She was protective, fun, and loved to cuddle on the couch. She adored riding in the Jeep almost as much as I did.

  Twenty minutes later, Emma and I parked at The Castle. I rolled down the windows partway, knowing she’d be fine in the car in the cool morning for the few minutes I planned to be in Morgan’s office. And if I unloaded what I wanted to say, I’d be out lickety-split.

  “Wish me luck.” I rubbed the top of Emma’s head. “We’ll stop on the beach for a run on the way home.”

  That garnered me a short bark, making me wonder, not for the first time, how much my dog understood what I said to her. She definitely knew her name. And “ball.” And “dinner.”

  Even Emma knew I was stalling. Time to march into Morgan’s office with the righteous indignation I’d had when Amy told me he was poaching the historical funding right out from under my nose.

  I hesitated. Scenes weren’t my style. Heck, I’d stayed in way too many bad relationships for way too long to start fighting now.

  Emma barked and I followed her gaze. Craig Morgan walked toward the parking lot and the Jeep.

  Now or never.

  “Craig,” I called, fumbling out of the Jeep, slamming the door to keep Emma from jumping and attacking.

  The man kept walking toward his BMW, ebony-black and recently washed, buffed, an
d shined.

  “Craig Morgan. I came here to talk to you.” Jogging, I got between him and his car, blocking his exit.

  “Miss Gardner, I don’t have time for any silly town stuff. My membership in the Business Basics group is as an advisory position, not an active member.” He stepped to his right.

  I bobbed left and kept him blocked. “This isn’t about the group. Although you could be more supportive and participatory. We only win if we work together.”

  His sarcastic glare almost made me back down. “Miss Gardner, I don’t have time for winsome platitudes. Please excuse me.” He tried again to step around me.

  I put my hand on his black suit coat. “Seriously, I want to talk to you. Are you trying to block funding for the mission wall project?”

  His eyes flashed and for the first time, he eyed me. “Who told you such a tale? Your friend in the mayor’s office, perhaps?”

  “Does it matter how I found out?” My stomach lurched. I could tell the man had been caught no matter what answer he gave me. He was trying to block my funding.

  The message I’d received from Frank Gleason, the local historical society inspector, confirmed Amy’s leak. Someone claimed the wall in my backyard wasn’t part of the old Spanish mission. And they said they had proof. Frank ended the conversation explaining he would talk to me after he’d examined the so-called evidence.

  I could tell Frank was annoyed. My wall was a major find for him. He’d already been published in a local periodical, and he planned on speaking about the wall at a professional conference in New York this winter. Having his project proved false now would blemish his career, a blip that could get him fired.

  “Miss Newman needs to keep her nose out of things that don’t concern her. Look what happened last time she butted into a business development. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be kidnapped again.” Craig sneered and regarded my hand on his arm. He lifted the offending appendage off as if I were a bug on his five-hundred-dollar suit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “I will not. You aren’t going to bully me, Craig Morgan. Not by threatening my friend or me. I won’t stand for it. I’ll, I’ll …” Furious, I couldn’t believe he even tried to threaten Amy. The girl had gone through enough when Miss Emily died. I glanced around the parking lot. We’d gathered quite a crowd for my public tantrum. I paused.

  “You’ll what? Stop promoting my business? Kick me out of the club? Stab me for ruining your cash cow—I mean, your ‘Spanish mission’ project.” He made air quotes with his hands. “Honestly, Miss Gardner, you’re about as worrisome as an insect on my windshield.”

  This time he did walk around me and get into his car. As I stood there in shock, he rolled down his window and added, “And yes, I’m blocking your funding. You might as well tear your garden wall down because if I have anything to do with it, you’ll never receive a dime for your charade.”

  “I’ll stop you. No matter what I have to do, you’re not getting away with this!” I screamed as the overpriced sedan backed out of the parking spot. The gardener watering the plants lining the parking lot took two steps back as he watched me. I must have looked like a lunatic.

  I took a deep breath, then plastered on the fake smile I’d become more and more familiar with using. Walking past the man with the hose, I called out, “Sorry, but talking to Craig drives me insane.”

  I heard him mumble something in Spanish, and the only word I caught was loco. Emma sat on the driver’s seat, watching me. She barked as I came closer, obviously excited at my altercation with Craig. I pushed her back into the passenger seat and started up the car.

  “I should have let you bite him.” I absently petted Emma’s soft coat as I drove the winding road down the hill toward the ocean. The sky exploded with a rare shade of blue that normally made my insides happy, especially on my days off. Today, I barely noticed it. I reached the main highway and considered turning back into town, abandoning my run.

  A short bark reminded me of my promise.

  “Okay, girl, hold on, we’ll be on the beach in a second.” I turned onto the empty highway, slamming on my brakes when a black pickup truck appeared in front of me. The truck barely made the turn onto the Castle road. As I listened to the squeal of the tires, I closed my eyes for the impact.

  Nothing happened. I opened my eyes, glancing into the rearview mirror. The truck barely missed taking out the Jeep, my dog, and me with the turn. But he had missed.

  I kept my foot hard on the brakes and watched the truck speed up the road. I tried to see the plate, but some type of cover made the numbers unreadable.

  Should I confront the driver? I glanced at Emma. We hadn’t been hurt. They didn’t hit the Jeep. And I’d already made a fool of myself once. I decided one altercation a day was my limit. Time for a run. I turned the Jeep to the right and headed to the public access beach.

  Two hours later, curled up on the wicker couch on my front porch, deep into a romance novel, a sound from the driveway dragged me out of the Earl of Perryville’s rich garden lifestyle. Emma, who’d been asleep under the couch with today’s chew toy, jumped to meet the visitor.

  She ran out to the truck and waited patiently for the driver to notice her. When she wasn’t greeted in the time Emma deemed appropriate, she placed her paws on the door and stuck her nose into the open window at Greg.

  “Emma, get down.” Greg wouldn’t be happy if my fifty-pound puppy dragged her nails down the black paint job on his work truck. Walking toward the driveway, I couldn’t help but grin as Emma totally ignored my command, and leaned in to give Greg a sloppy dog kiss.

  “Get down.” Greg’s voice showed signs of stress as he repeated my command. He glared at me, still holding the phone at his ear. “Yes, Mayor, I’m here now. And I’ll talk to her.”

  Crap. Morgan had called his friend the mayor and complained about my visit. But I hadn’t been out of line. I tried to remember the conversation I’d been trying to forget since the fight happened. I’d been harsh. I’d apologize, he’d act like a double jerk, and I’d still hate him. I shook my head. The things I’d do for love.

  Greg climbed out of the truck. His long legs, sexy in Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots. If he would wear western shirts rather than the standard-issue police uniform shirt, or his favorite casual rocker tee, people would swear he’d look like a young George Strait.

  He stared down at me, his six-five frame shading my five-foot-six body from the heat of the afternoon sun. Yes, he was a tall drink of water, as my mother would say.

  “Sir, I’ll talk to you later.”

  I could hear Mayor Baylor yelling on the other end. I smirked. “Sorry, I guess my conversation with Craig got back to City Hall.”

  “Conversation? The way the mayor tells the story, you all but threatened the guy with a knife, gun, and your mad martial-arts skills.” Greg pulled me into a hug. “You okay, tough guy?”

  That was why I loved Greg. Even upset at me for the latest stupid thing I’d done, he always saw my side of things. I leaned into his chest, the smell of cologne overwhelming my senses. “That man can make me madder than a can full of ants.”

  “I think you mean a nest full of hornets.” Greg chuckled.

  “Whatever. The guy pushes buttons I didn’t even know I had.”

  Emma pushed between us, forcing Greg to release me so he could pet her.

  “How’s my best girl?” Greg squatted down to the dog’s level and she went wild. “You already take her on a run?”

  “An hour on the beach after my fight with Morgan. She should be worn out.” I leaned on the truck watching the two wrestle. Apparently the hour nap she’d taken under my feet while I read rejuvenated her energy level. “You done for the day? Or do you have to go report back to the mayor how you read me the riot act for being mean to his favorite business owner?”

  Greg glanced up from his lovefest with Emma. “This isn’t a joke, Jill. Craig Morgan’s threatening to file a restraining order against you. You actually threaten
ed him?”

  “He’s trying to stop certification of the mission wall.” I kicked a dirt clod off the driveway. “Besides, he started it. Maybe I should file something.”

  “Instead, you should stay away from The Castle for a while, let the guy cool down. You know he can’t stop certification by complaining. Let the system work.” Greg stood and walked back to the truck. Kissing me on the top of the forehead, he climbed in the truck. “I’ll see you at dinner. Get out some steaks and we’ll grill.”

  I leaned into the driver’s side window, not wanting to let him go. “Okay, cowboy, I’ll throw together a salad and I think I’ve got a pie in the fridge.”

  “One of Sadie’s?” Greg’s eyes gleamed.

  “You think I made pie this morning before I went on my rampage of the good citizens of South Cove?”

  “Nut.” Greg kissed me, this time a proper kiss, one making my toes curl. He smiled at me. “Don’t worry about the wall. Only one thing could stop its certification—proof it’s not the mission.”

  “But what if …”

  “There you go again. I swear, you read too many murder mysteries. Not everything or everyone is a criminal.” He patted the name tag hanging on his chest. “I’m the local expert, remember? And most days, unless my girlfriend is causing trouble, are deadly boring.”

  His cell rang. “Yeah, Esmeralda?”

  I stood next to the truck, waiting to see if he would be grilling steaks tonight or if the dispatcher’s call would keep him working past dinner.

  He sat up and glanced over at me, his expression unreadable. “I’ll head out there now.”

  Frowning, I waited for him to disconnect. “No dinner?”

  “I’m not sure. Craig Morgan called in a complaint.”

  “Seriously?” I yelled at him. “What on earth can he charge me with?” This was getting out of hand. The man needed to get a life. But if I had to, I’d ride up with Greg to apologize. Not a bad idea. “Hold on a second, you can drive me up there and I’ll say I’m sorry. And even sound like I mean it.”