2 Dead & Buried (7 page)

“I’ll have extra cherries in my cocktails, then.” Anastasia winked at her.

“Labradorite can help with gout, too.” Fiona held up an aqua and gray stone that glowed iridescent when the light hit it. “Wrap it in a bandage and put it right on the joint or use it in a foot bath. It can also help you have prophetic dreams if you sleep with it under your pillow.”

Anastasia crossed over to Fiona and reached out for the gem. “It’s so pretty. And I sure could use some dreams. If I can sleep at all that is—the lights from those damn boats were shining in my windows all night last night.”

“Boats?” Fiona and Morgan asked at the same time.

“Yes, out near the entrance to Perkins Cove. On the ocean side of you girls’ house. My cottage faces there and the lights glared right into my window. Woke me about two in the morning. Back and forth, back and forth … it went on for hours.”

Morgan and Fiona exchanged a look. None of the boats went out at that time of night and they certainly didn’t go back and forth in the mouth of the cove like Anastasia was describing.
Could the boats have something to do with everything that was going on?

“I can give you some chamomile and valerian for sleeping if you want,” Morgan offered.
 

“Oh, that would be lovely, I hope those boats aren’t back again tonight.”

“How many nights has this happened?”

“Just last night as far as I remember. Or if they were there previously it didn’t wake me up. I’ll take this lovely stone too.” Anastasia handed the labradorite back to Fiona and the girls packaged up her purchases and sent her on her way.

Morgan looked at Fiona as soon as the door shut. “We have to find out more about those boats.”

“Do you think it could have something to do with the dead guy?”

“Well it’s certainly unusual. Have you ever heard of boats out at that time of night like that?”

“Nope, never. No lobsterman I know would be out in the dark.”

“Right, I think I’ll look into it after work. It could turn out to be the lead we’ve been waiting for.”
 

Morgan decided to stop down at Perkins Cove as soon as she got home to see if she could find out anything about the boats. If they had moored in the cove, the fishermen were sure to know about it.

Perkins Cove was a cluster of weathered buildings set on a finger of land that had the ocean on one side and an inlet on the other. Once old fisherman’s shacks, they had been turned into quaint shops that sold everything from sweatshirts to jewelry to clam rolls. The shopping area was shaped in a horseshoe. The cove itself was on one side of the horseshoe and dotted with boats making a postcard perfect scene. There was a cluster of shops in the middle of the “U” and more shops on the other side which backed up to the Atlantic Ocean. A white, wooden self-serve drawbridge spanned across the narrowest part of the cove and tourists delighted in walking across it in the hopes a tall boat would come in and they could raise the bridge by pressing the button on one side.
 

The shopping area was small with about fourteen shops, but tourists loved it. The street, which was barely wide enough for one car, was usually packed with window shoppers. The Blackmoore house was just beyond the top of the horseshoe at the very peak of land that separated the cove from the ocean. Rather than try to find a parking spot, Morgan walked the short one eighth mile from her house.

The summer activity in the Cove always picked up her spirits. Happy tourists, kids eating ice cream, shoppers buying souvenirs and the smell of fried clams and seaweed made her smile as she made her way past the shops to the small parking lot reserved for fishermen that docked their boats in the Cove.
 

A couple of fishermen were gathered around the carcass of a giant tuna. Morgan joined them.

“Hi Brian, is that your catch?” Morgan asked a tall dark haired man, one of her high school classmates.

“Yep.” Brian grinned with good reason, a tuna that size made for a nice pay day.

“Hey Morgan, heard you had some trouble over at yer’ place.” This from Josiah Littlefield, an old weathered lobsterman Morgan had known since she was a little girl.

“Yeah, the guy on the cliff? Any of you know anything about him?” Morgan glanced around the group, but they all shook their heads.

“Have there been any new boats docking in the cove the past few nights?” She ventured.

More head shaking.

“Have you guys heard anything about any boats trolling the waters on the ocean side near the cove?” she raised her eyebrows at them.

“Are ‘ya thinkin’ that has somethin’ to do with the body you found?” Josiah asked.

“Yeah, one of my customers at
Sticks and Stones
said she saw boats going back and forth near the mouth of the cove last night in the middle of the night. Who would do that?”

“No one here would.” Brian looked around the group. “That’s kind of crazy.”

“I know, I was wondering if they moored the boats in the cove … whoever they are.”

Morgan, Brian and Josiah turned to look at the boats stacked up in their moorings.

“Nope, nothin’ but the usual boats in there,” Josiah said.

“And you haven’t heard about any strange boat activity?”

“Nope.”

Morgan took a deep breath and blew it out. “Okay, well if you hear anything let me know. The police haven’t been able to identify the deceased and it could be important.”

“Sure’n we will.”
 

Morgan turned back toward home, her stomach sinking. If the boats weren’t moored in Perkins cove, then where were they?

###

Morgan trudged back to the house barely noticing the sights and smells of the cove. She was so occupied with her thoughts of how she could find out more about the boats that she almost didn’t notice a movement to the left by the stand of trees that lined the cliff. Almost.
 

She jerked her head in that direction.
Was someone over there?
She stopped and squinted into the trees for a minute, but didn’t see anyone. Continuing up the driveway, she chastised herself for being so jittery. It wasn’t like her to get all jumpy over nothing.
 

Inside Fiona, Jake and Jolene were gathered around Jolene’s laptop in the informal living room, one of the smaller rooms in the twenty four room home. This room was Morgan’s favorite. She found the gray and blue decor to be soothing and the view of the Atlantic Ocean from the large bay window stunning. The giant starfish, seashells and rustic painted furnishings with overstuffed cushions made it comfy and homey.

Fiona looked up at her as she entered the room. “Did they know anything about the boats?”

Morgan shook her head.

“What boats?” Jolene asked.

“One of our customers said she saw boats trolling around out there in the middle of the night.” Morgan tilted her chin toward the ocean.

“Trolling around?
 
What do you mean?”

“She said they were going back and forth in a pattern around 2 a.m. The lights woke her up,” Fiona said.

“I think I might know why,” Jake cut in and everyone looked in his direction.

“Jolene and I did a lot of research this afternoon and one of the things that treasure hunters can do to look for sunken treasure is to ping the bottom with sonar or boat-towed marine metal detectors. If those boats were going back and forth in a pattern, then that could have been what they were doing.”

“And if it’s the treasure stealers, then that would explain why they were doing it at two in the morning—they didn’t want anyone to know,” Jolene added.

Morgan glanced out the window at the Atlantic.
Had there been a sunken treasure just a stone’s throw from their house all this time?

“What else did you guys find out?” Morgan asked.

“Well, there really isn’t much online about these treasure pirates. They’re sort of an underground group. Well, actually, there are several groups. They get leads on where there might be some treasure and they try to go and steal it. They are very secretive because they don’t want anyone to know what they are after, or even to know they have it once they get it.” Jolene looked up at Morgan, her ice-blue eyes turning serious. “They’re very dangerous people, so you better be careful if you plan to mess with them.”

Morgan felt the funny feeling in the pit of her stomach intensify. “Well, it appears they think we have some treasure around here, so I don’t see we have much choice.”

“Yeah. If only we knew where it was—we could sure use the money ourselves. And if we found it first that might solve our problems with the treasure stealers
and
the tax office.”
 

“I think we might be able to help with that,” Celeste said from where she stood in the doorway with Cal.

“What do you mean?” Morgan raised an eyebrow in their direction.

“I showed Cal the code from the journal and he says it’s something called a book cipher,” Celeste said.

“Basically, the words in the journal indicate the chapter, verse and word in a second book. You use the second book, which is called the key, to decode what the journal says,” Cal added.

“So we need the second book to decode it? How do we know which book it is?”
 

Cal ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, it would have to be a book that was as old as, or older than the journal. We need to look at the journal and see if it has a date, then try out any other books we can find that were published near that date. It’s really a long shot that you’ll have the key book here.”

Morgan felt a spark of enthusiasm. Judging by the contents of the attic, her ancestors never threw
anything
away. There were a lot of books up there and she had a gut feeling the key book they needed was among them … and she was learning her gut feelings were usually right.

“Well, let’s get a move on,” she said heading for the stairs. “That journal could lead us to the treasure, and if there’s a treasure out there from the
Ocean’s Revenge
then it belongs to us. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not going to sit around doing nothing while some treasure stealing pirates take it right from under our noses!”

###

Morgan sprinted up the stairs to the attic, the others close behind. They headed straight for the bookshelf where the journal was. No one was surprised to find Belladonna lying on top of it, watching them lazily.

“Let’s see if this thing has a date,” Celeste said taking the journal gently from the shelf.

Cal cringed when she opened it and leafed through the brittle pages. “You should think about wearing gloves when you handle that, the oils from your fingers could damage it.”

“Oh.” Celeste looked down at her fingers. “I didn’t think about that.”
 

“Lucky for you there’s a pair right here.” Fiona picked a pair of white lace gloves from a pile of antique clothing and handed them to Celeste.

“Jeez, these are tiny,” she said, stuffing her hands into the gloves.
 

Morgan got busy at the bookcase, pulling out anything that looked as ancient as the journal. Belladonna jumped off the shelf, twirled herself around Celeste’s feet then meandered off toward the back of the room.

“This one looks pretty old.” Morgan picked up a leather bound book that was falling apart at the spine and glanced at Celeste. She noticed her sister’s fingers were poised over the book and she was looking toward the window, almost in a trance.
 

“Celeste?” Celeste nodded her head, but not at Morgan.
 

“Earth to Celeste,” Fiona said from her position crouched on the other side of the bookcase.

“What? Oh. Sorry.” She turned the pages in the book then pointed. “Here’s the date, August 10, 1722.”

“The same year as that ship’s manifest.” Morgan’s heart beat a little faster.

Celeste turned ice-blue eyes on Morgan. “Yes, but the key book isn’t in this bookshelf. It’s back there.” She pointed toward the back of the room in the direction Belladonna had headed.

“Huh? How do you know that?” Jolene furrowed her brow at Celeste.

“Oh no. Not Nana again?” Fiona asked.

Celeste just smiled. “Let’s just look back there, okay?”

Morgan shrugged and started toward the back.
 

“What’s this about your Nana?” Cal asked.

“We’ll fill you in later,” Morgan said over her shoulder.

They stopped at a stack of books. She was half expecting Belladonna to be there, pointing at the book with her tail or something, but the cat was nowhere to be seen.
 

She looked through the stack. The top ones were canvas bound, the books toward the bottom of the stack had leather spines. She carefully moved the books off the top and handed the leather ones out to Fiona, Jolene, Jake and Cal. She took the last one for herself and Celeste bent over her shoulder.

“This one’s dated 1795. Too new.” Cal put the book down gently on the pile.

“This one is too,” Jake said.