2 Dead & Buried (5 page)

Morgan shot Fiona a warning glance and shrugged. “We can answer them here.”
 

Overton looked disappointed. He switched the toothpick from the right side of his mouth to the left and leaned back on his heels.

“Alrighty, then.” He pulled a notebook and pencil out of his pocket and licked the tip of the pencil causing Fiona to make a face. “How long did you know the deceased?”

“Huh?
 
You mean the man I found on the cliff?” Morgan’s brows mashed together. “We didn’t know him at all.”

Overton looked at her from under his shaggy eyebrows. “Really? You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.” Morgan struggled to remain calm. She knew Overton was looking for them to overreact. He was probably trying to incite them, hoping they’d do something crazy so he could arrest them. She refused to play his game.

“Well, now how could a big man like that walk all the way past your house and out onto the cliff without anyone noticing?”

Morgan’s stomach clenched. She’d been wondering the same thing. “He must have snuck out there in the middle of the night.”

Overton cocked an eyebrow at her. “Now why would someone do that?”

“We have no idea. Are you accusing us of something?” Fiona cut in from across the room.

Overton smirked at her. “Not yet. But I know you girls are involved somehow.”

Morgan drew in a deep breath. “Really Sheriff, we’re not involved in every crime that happens in this town.”

Overton turned to Morgan, the toothpick wiggling back and forth as he talked. “With your track record and the fact the deceased was found on your property, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I’m able to charge you with something.”

Morgan walked over to the door and held it open, gesturing for Overton to leave.

“I doubt that. You won’t find anything relating us to that guy’s murder because
we didn’t have anything to do with it
.” She punctuated the last words by leaning forward, almost in his face.

Morgan felt a wave of triumph when Overton started to leave, but the triumph was soon replaced with a twinge of worry when she saw the satisfied smirk on his face.
 

He turned just inside the doorway and his words caused Morgan’s stomach to twist into a knot.
 

“Oh really? Then why did we find a copy of the
Ocean’s Revenge
ship’s manifest from 1722 showing Isaiah Blackmoore as the captain in his pocket?”

Celeste sat cross legged on the floor of the Library. She always mediated in this room—it was her favorite. She loved the dusty smell of antique furniture and old leather books and the way the sun spilled in through the nine foot tall windows highlighting rich colored slices of the antique Persian rugs.

She didn’t know if it was the hand carved oak bookcases or the centuries old leather couches and chairs or the gigantic marble fireplace, but somehow, the room felt both awe inspiring and cozy at the same time.

The room also seemed spiritual somehow. Maybe because of all the old books and furniture that were once read and used by ancestors long dead, or maybe because it was so quiet—especially now when one else was home.

She settled herself in a patch of sun and closed her eyes, breathing slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. Slowly in … and slowly out.
 

She cleared all thoughts from her mind. Every time a conscious thought tried to invade she dismissed it, promising her conscious mind she would deal with it later. Slowly, she counted backwards, clearing her mind of any thoughts that tugged at it, waiting for her subconscious to take over.

She could feel herself drift off … still conscious, but not really. It was almost as if she could go to some other land inside her mind. She was getting better at entering this special land the more she meditated. It was coming to her faster and faster. And now she was even hearing the voices.

At first she could only hear a few whispered words from her spirit guide, Andrew. But that gradually progressed to full conversations and the past few times she’d meditated she’d also talked to her grandmother. At first it had freaked her out a little, but now she was starting to look forward to her meditations and these little visits from the other side.

“Well, don’t you think you should be up in the attic looking for that book?”

Celeste jumped at her grandmother’s voice. She’d heard it before, of course, but this time instead of being inside her head, it sounded like it was right in the room beside her.

Celeste focused on thinking up a response in her head.
 

I’m not sure. My sisters don’t seem too keen on going up there.

“Nonsense, why not? There’s lots of neat family stuff up there. And, of course, the journals.”

Mom always told us to stay away, is it okay with her?

“How would I know?”

Isn’t she there with you?

“No.”

Celeste felt her brows knit together. Her mother had died four years ago, if she wasn’t “over there” with Nana, then where was she? She found herself wishing she could see her grandmother and not just hear her disembodied voice in her thoughts.

“Well, why don’t you just open your eyes if you want to see me?”

Celeste’s heart skipped a beat.
See her?

She tentatively cracked open one eyelid. She didn’t see her Nana. She did see Belladonna, though. The cat was over by the window swatting at the haze that drifted in from the late afternoon sun. No, wait, it was more of a mist … and the mist was bending down to pet the cat.

Celeste opened her other eye and watched open-mouthed as the cat rolled over on her back, the mist taking the shape of a human, bending over, its arm extended toward the cat and rubbing her belly.

The mist stood up and turned to her. “See dear, you can see me
and
hear me.”

Celeste squinted. The figure was fuzzy, but she could just make out some of her grandmother’s features. Her eyeglasses, and her hair in a bun on top of her head. She was even wearing an apron that Celeste remembered from her childhood, or at least that she’d seen Nana wearing in pictures.

Celeste stared at the apparition, speechless.

“What’s a matter, cat got your tongue?” Nana laughed and Belladonna let out a meow.

Celeste wondered if she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming.

The misty figure looked at its watch. “Well, I’ve gotta run, but I wanted to put a bee in your bonnet about the attic. There’s important stuff up there you girls are going to need.”

“Okay,” Celeste stammered.

“Well, then, ta-ta.” Nana bent to scratch Belladonna behind the ears and then vanished in a misty swirl.

Celeste sat still for a few minutes, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Did that really just happen?

Belladonna came over and rubbed herself against Celeste’s legs. She scratched the cat’s head in return.
 

“Mew.” Belladonna flopped down on her side and aimed her ice-blue eyes at Celeste then flicked them up towards the ceiling … where the attic was.
 

She heard the front door open and glanced at the green onyx art deco clock on the mantel. It was five thirty, which meant it must be Morgan and Fiona coming home.
 

Celeste took a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs. All indications pointed toward the attic and if that’s where the powers that be wanted her to go, then who was she to argue?
 

She just hoped she would have as easy a time convincing her sisters of that as her grandmother’d had convincing her.

###

Morgan shut the front door and proceeded down the hall toward the kitchen, her heart skittering when she saw a pale and shaken Celeste coming out of the library.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Morgan wrinkled her brow in concern as she studied her sister’s face.

 
“Oh.” Celeste ran her fingers through her perky blonde hair. “Sorry, I was napping and I’m still half asleep, I guess.”

Morgan put her arm around Celeste’s shoulders and led her into the kitchen. “Come on. We’ll make some supper and tell you all about our visit from Overton.”

“Sheriff Overton? Oh no. Is he going to arrest one of us or something?”

“I’m sure he’d like to but, fortunately, he doesn’t have any evidence. He did, however, let it slip that he found something very interesting on the dead guy.”

The girls stepped into the spacious black and white tiled kitchen. The kitchen itself had been built during one of the many home renovations in the 1800s and still had the original dark wood cabinets which were offset by white marble counter tops. The stainless steel appliances were a newer addition to the kitchen as was the large island in the center.

 
The smell of shrimp, garlic and fresh herbs hit Morgan’s nose, causing her mouth to water. Fiona turned from the stove and looked at them as they each took a seat at the island.

“So, what’s this interesting thing that Overton told you about?” Celeste reminded Morgan.

“You won’t believe it.” Morgan felt her heart speed up with a flitter of excitement despite the logical part of her brain telling her this all had nothing to do with pirate treasure. “Overton said the guy had a copy of some sort of ship’s manifest that one of our relatives was the captain of in his pocket!”

“What?” Celeste’s eyes widened as she divided her attention between Morgan and Fiona.

“Yep,” Fiona said, swirling the shrimp in the pan “Jake’s going to see if he can snag a copy of it and bring it over for us to look at.”

“So what does that mean, the guy really was looking for treasure?” Celeste asked.

“Maybe.” Morgan got up and grabbed a large bowl of salad from the fridge, placing it on the island. “That doesn’t mean there really
is
treasure, though.”

“It will be kind of cool to see what sorts of things were on the ship of our great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather though.” Fiona poured the shrimp concoction over a bowl of pasta, tossed it together and set it on the island next to the salad.
 

“Are you sure that’s enough ‘greats’?” Morgan asked, grabbing plates from the cupboard.

Fiona laughed, waving her hand in the air. “Well, who knows how many, I know there’s a lot. The guy lived over three hundred years ago.”

Morgan filled her plate and sat at the island beside her sisters. She had a forkful of food halfway to her mouth when a knock sounded on the front door.

Fiona jumped up. “That must be Jake.”

“I’m sure it is. He has an uncanny way of showing up just when the food is ready to eat,” Morgan said good-naturedly. The truth was she adored Jake as did all the sisters.
 

Fiona ran off to open the door and Morgan used the opportunity to dig into her supper. She was almost done by the time Fiona ushered Jake into the kitchen.

“Did you get a copy?” Morgan asked, handing a plate to Jake.

“Yeah, I got one of the other cops to sneak me one. Overton is keeping me far away from the case. Putting me on crap jobs like traffic detail.” Jake made a face as he dug in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

He opened it and spread it on the island. The three girls bent their heads over the paper to examine it.

“This is pretty cool,” Celeste said. “The
Ocean’s Revenge
… I never heard of it but I like the name. Kind of sinister for a merchant ship though, don’t you think?”

Morgan looked at the paper. The copy was blurry, the writing faint. She could see the original manifest itself had rough edges and many folds and creases. At the top was the date, ship’s name and captain’s name—Isaiah Blackmoore—below that columns with lists of items and numbers.

She ran her finger down the left column and read off the items. “Pottery, cowhide, turtle shell, cacao … who knew they shipped this stuff around the world back then?”
 

“And who would care about recovering it now?” Celeste asked.

“Maybe not that stuff, but look at the bottom,” Jake said between mouthfuls of shrimp.

Morgan skipped down to the bottom of the page and her heart jerked in her chest. “Gold and silver coins, copper ingots, silver bars …” she looked up at her sisters. “Now
that’s
worth recovering.”

Fiona raised her brows. “For sure. But that was the stuff on his ship. It’s not like he brought it home and buried it in the yard. He had to deliver that stuff to where ever it was supposed to go, didn’t he?”

Morgan nodded. “And we don’t even know if this is really an authentic ship’s manifest.”

“But it does give us a lead as to why the guy was on our cliff,” Celeste said.

Morgan pursed her lips. “True, but not why he was killed.”

“Do we even need to know that? I say it can’t hurt to do a little treasure hunting ourselves. I mean, that guy certainly went to a lot of trouble to get killed on our cliff, maybe there is something to this whole buried treasure thing?” Fiona tore a piece of bread from the loaf on the table and used it to sop up what was left on her plate.