Clues in the Sand Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Books by Terry Ambrose

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Behind the Story

  CLUES IN THE SAND

  A Seaside Cove

  Bed & Breakfast Mystery

  TERRY AMBROSE

  COPYRIGHT

  CLUES IN THE SAND

  A SEASIDE COVE BED & BREAKFAST MYSTERY

  ASIN: B078ZMZQ48

  Copyright © 2018 by Terry Ambrose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover design by Dar Albert

  Book edited by Elizabeth Mallory

  Layout design by Pen 2 Ink Designs

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Once upon a time, in a life he’d rather forget, Terry Ambrose tracked down deadbeats for a living. He also hired big guys with tow trucks to steal cars—but only when negotiations failed. Those years of chasing deadbeats taught him many valuable life lessons such as—always keep your car in the garage.

  Today, Terry likes fast, funny mysteries and cool photography. When he’s not writing, he’s out looking for that next amazing photo to share. Find him at terryambrose.com.

  Find Terry’s books on Amazon: amazon.com/Terry-Ambrose/e/B008NR7QZ4

  Twitter: twitter.com/suspense_writer

  Facebook: facebook.com/suspense.writer

  BOOKS BY TERRY AMBROSE

  A SEASIDE COVE BED & BREAKFAST MYSTERY

  A TREASURE TO DIE FOR

  MCKENNA MYSTERIES

  PHOTO FINISH

  KAUAI TEMPTATIONS

  BIG ISLAND BLUES

  MYSTERY OF THE LEI PALAOA

  HONOLULU HOTTIE

  NORTH SHORE NANNY

  A DAMSEL FOR SANTA

  MAUI MAGIC

  LICENSE TO LIE SERIES

  LICENSE TO LIE

  CON GAME

  A LEI CRIME KINDLE WORLD

  TOUGH CHOICES

  STEALING HONOLULU

  ANTHOLOGIES WITH STORIES

  PARADISE, PASSION, MURDER: 10 TALES OF MYSTERY FROM HAWAI‘I

  HAPPY HOMICIDES 3: SUMMERTIME CRIMES

  HAPPY HOMICIDES 4: FALL INTO CRIME

  HAPPY HOMICIDES 5: THE PURR-FECT CRIME

  HAPPY HOMICIDES 6: COOKING UP CRIME

  CHAPTER 1

  ALEX

  July 19

  Hey Journal,

  Operation Dumbwaiter is on! Me and Robbie have been planning for a couple weeks now. We’re not supposed to ride the dumbwaiter cause Daddy says it’s not safe. But I’m totally stoked. The ride is gonna be scary and fun all at the same time. I don’t wanna only do the safe stuff, Journal. If we only did things like that we’d never have any fun, right?

  The other big news is they found a body on the beach this morning. Our handyman says everybody’s talking about it. I heard the lady died with a really old piece of pottery or something in her hand.

  Do you think maybe she was another treasure hunter? It’s gonna be awesome when one of them finds that sunken ship they’re all after. Nobody’s found it so far, so I guess they’re not very good at their jobs. Anyway, what’s super scary is they don’t live very long.

  They keep getting killed off so they must not be very nice people. Do you think it could have been murder, Journal? Daddy should investigate like he did last time. That would be cool. It was awesome the way I helped him find the killer. I just wish I hadn’t gotten in so much trouble.

  Daddy’s gonna be up in a couple minutes to say goodnight. I’ll ask him if he’s gonna help again. I don’t wanna be mean, but the cops here are totally lame and need my dad’s help. And he needs mine!

  Oh yeah, I gotta tell you how I’m gonna get Daddy and Marquetta together. But I can’t do it now cause Daddy just knocked.

  Alex

  CHAPTER 2

  RICK

  On some days, starting work at five-thirty in the morning was easy. Then there were the ones like today. Rick Atwood rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he pushed through the butler door leading to the kitchen.

  He let the aroma of freshly brewed coffee tickle his senses. Thank goodness Marquetta was already on the job. As usual, she had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore a red T-shirt and jeans. Even this early she looked perky and ready for the day.

  She glanced at him, poured a mug, and slid it across the white marble countertop. With a hint of playfulness in her voice, she said, “Let me guess, you were up late talking to Alex.”

  “No.” He picked up the mug as he peered outside, then yawned and tried to sound grumpy. “Don’t you ever get a slow start in the morning?”

  “No boss, I'm a morning person.” She raised her mug and smiled at him over the rim. “Drink up, you’ll feel better in no time.”

  Rick took a sip of the steaming black liquid, then went to the bank of kitchen windows. Outside, the sun was already shining. “It’s going to be a beautiful day, just the kind the tourists love.”

  He turned to face Marquetta, who had placed two loaves of zucchini bread she’d baked the previous afternoon on the counter. She paused in the middle of counting scoops of grounds for the next batch of coffee and looked at him.

  “Well? This isn’t like you.” She stopped, pursed her lips, and peered at him. “Wait. You aren’t the real Richard J. Atwood, are you? What did you do with my boss?”

  He gave her a mock glare. “You won't let it go, will you?”

  “Nope.” She laughed and added, “You come into my kitchen on a glorious morning all grumpy and expect to get away with it? No way.”

  “How about if I cop out and say it’s been gloomy for a week and I’ve got the coastal blues or something like that?”

  “Oh, please.”

  “Other than today we haven’t seen the sun since last Saturday.”

  “All right. If it wasn’t Alex, what in the world kept you up?” She gave him a mock sneer. “When you moved here you told me you’d been a reporter and were used to late nights and early mornings. Are you turning into a wimp on me?”

  Rick sipped from his mug again. He could almo
st feel his senses coming alive. “You’re a hard task master, Marquetta Weiss. Sometimes I wonder who runs this B&B.”

  “I do. And don’t you forget it, boss.”

  “And here I thought the owner was supposed to be in charge.” There were times when the four-year age difference between him and his cook seemed to vanish. It was the same with their working relationship. Or their personal one, which he wished could grow deeper with all his heart.

  He cleared his throat and leaned back against the countertop. “It’s my own fault. Not Alex’s. She conked out early. I, in my infinite stupidity, kept trying to make sense of what happened to that poor woman on the beach. How awful, huh? She discovers what could be a four-hundred-year-old artifact, and then she dies. Seems a little too coincidental to me.”

  Marquetta rolled her eyes as she leaned against the white granite countertop and faced him. “Have you been listening to the rumor mill?”

  Rick shook his head. “You’re the one who’s plugged in, not me. What’s the latest?”

  “The whole town’s buzzing. What was her name? Dani something-or-other? The most popular theory is the porcelain fragment in her hand was from a Ming Dynasty rice bowl. Supposedly—and you can put that in all caps—it’s worth a fortune. Someone killed her for it.”

  “If that’s the case, why was it still there? Why didn’t the killer take it?”

  “Why don’t you ask Adam some questions?”

  Rick shook his head. “No. Deputy Adam Cunningham will have to work this case all on his own.” Rick stretched again. This time, he extended his arms straight up until his right shoulder popped. “For Alex’s sake, I am not getting involved.”

  “She’ll be fine, Rick. Alex is just a ten-year-old girl with a vivid imagination. Tell you what, I’ll find a few things to do around here to keep her mind occupied until this all blows over.”

  “Sounds wonderful. Maybe between the two of us we can keep her from getting herself into trouble again.” He wrapped his fingers around his mug and smiled. “You know what, Marquetta? You’re a lifesaver.”

  She bit her upper lip and glanced away momentarily. “Buttering me up will not get you the day off,” she said. “We need to get the coffee and tea upstairs before the guests start grumbling.”

  Rick winked and set his mug on the counter. “Taskmaster,” he said as they got to work.

  They filled the three matching carafes for the upstairs refreshment station. One contained regular coffee, one decaf, and one hot water for tea. Rick stocked a small basket with three types of sweetener as well as a dry creamer while Marquetta filled the small insulated carafe for half-and-half. When they finished, he picked up the tray and backed out the butler door.

  On his way up the stairs, Rick ran into Flynn O’Connor. She wore cargo shorts, a long-sleeved camp shirt over a tank top, and hiking boots. Though the colors were different, Flynn had once again rolled up the sleeves. Marquetta called the outfit archaeologist-chic. Alex thought it was cool. Rick was more impressed by how dedicated she was. She was up early and often worked late.

  “Morning, Miss O’Connor.”

  “Hey, Rick. Will breakfast be ready at six-thirty again?”

  “On the dot.”

  “Great. I’ve got a few things to handle before then, but I’ll be sure to get back in time. Is one of those leaded?”

  “This one.” He nodded at the left carafe. “Would you like a cup to go?”

  “Absolutely.” She followed him up the stairs, filled a paper cup with coffee, and snapped on a plastic lid. “See you at six-thirty.”

  “Right,” Rick said, then held up his index finger. “Since you’re an expert, can I ask you a quick archaeology-type question?”

  “If you want to know what it’s like to go on a dig, it’s fantastic. That’s when I’m happiest. When I’m out there in the middle of nowhere and society is nothing but a memory.”

  “I never really thought about that. I guess Seaside Cove is kind of a disappointment for you.”

  Her blue eyes crinkled into a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend your town. I love it here.” She shrugged and said, “I just took a shot at the question most people ask. Everybody wants to know what its like for a woman to be on a dig. Tell you what, can we catch up later? I’m pressed to get this thing done.”

  “No worries. It wasn’t important. Just my idle curiosity about the discovery on the beach.”

  Flynn backed away, all the while nodding. “You can ask me all the questions you want about archaeology and digs and even Indiana Jones, but right now I have to run.”

  He gave her a quick thumbs up. “And if you want to be bored to tears, I can share what it was like to be a reporter who was always on deadline and had a bear for an editor.”

  She returned the thumbs up, then hurried off, leaving Rick to wonder what could be so urgent before six in the morning.

  CHAPTER 3

  RICK

  The Monday through Friday breakfast serving hours ran from six-thirty until eight. Those were the normal hours. There were always exceptions—late risers, large parties, and the inevitable unforeseen circumstance.

  Today, about a dozen guests were waiting bright and early in the dining room. While the guest rooms at the B&B all had a nautical theme and names, the dining room felt elegant and very turn-of-the-century with its pale green paint and white trim. Warm and welcoming was how guests often described it.

  A few early risers gathered near the coffee station. However, most waited patiently while Rick and Alex, dressed in their white shirts and black slacks, took breakfast orders. After they’d passed the orders to Marquetta, they mingled among the guests, filling coffee and chitchatting.

  Rick approached the table of a smallish man with oily skin and a black, well-trimmed goatee. According to both Alex and Marquetta, Mr. de la Guerra had a dreamy Spanish accent that would make the reading of a recipe sound romantic. Obviously, the ladies of the house had a different opinion than Rick. He found the man like his skin, a bit too slick.

  “How are you today, Mr. de la Guerra? Have you recovered from your jet lag?”

  “As you Americans say, I am doing super. I slept more better than usual. It must be your pleasant evening air.” Mr. de la Guerra leaned over the white tablecloth and peered outside. “My table has a most magnificent view.”

  Sunlight streaming through the window lit up the hardwood floor. Rick let his gaze wander to the garden outside where birds chirped and the roses were in full bloom. Yes, his guest was correct. It was a most magnificent view.

  “This is an unusual morning for us at this time of year,” Rick said. “We normally have a lot of overcast. But this table, being right by the window, always has a great view. What brings you all the way to Seaside Cove from Madrid?”

  “The discovery of the San Manuel, of course.”

  “You heard about us back home in Spain?”

  “I must confess. It was not I who heard of your most auspicious discovery. I am here at the urging of the Minister of Culture.”

  Ever since word leaked that there might be a sunken treasure ship off the coast, business had taken off. All ten guest rooms had been booked and the morning breakfast rush had been transformed from laid-back to madhouse.

  At present, the old dining room rumbled with the clanking of silver on china and guests’ voices. Rick took a quick look around the room. Some were treasure-hunter wannabes, and whether they were bankers or construction workers, they all wanted a chance to find a trinket from the San Manuel. What amazed Rick was how someone on the other side of the globe had heard about it.

  “To my knowledge we’ve never had a representative of the Spanish government as a guest. We’re honored to have you stay with us, Mr. de la Guerra.” Rick refilled his guest’s cup, then backed away from the table and read the message on his phone. “It looks like your breakfast is ready, sir. I’ll go check.”

  On his way to the kitchen, Rick noticed Alex was chatting up one of the families. Marquetta h
ad termed the husband and wife as “apathetically married.” While Alex poured coffee for the husband, his wife busied herself with their two boys. The younger hunched over a piece of paper on which he drew with a crayon. The older boy, Marcus, was busy scanning the room. Even Alex had wisecracked about the boy having the attention span of an overactive puppy.

  Marquetta was flipping eggs when Rick pushed through the butler door. She glanced up, then tilted her head at a plate on the countertop over which she’d placed a stainless steel cover to keep the food warm.

  “That one’s for Mr. de la Guerra,” she said.

  “You won’t believe this,” Rick said as he picked up the plate. “He’s here about the San Manuel.”

  “It’s a lot of money, Rick. You know what greed does to people.”

  “He’s here at the request of the Spanish government.”

  “I don’t care if he’s the King of Spain. Remember this, greed brings out the worst in people. Next one’s up in about a minute.”

  “Right.” Rick called to Marquetta as he left for the dining area. “I’ll take this in and be right back.”

  “Hey, Rick? How come there’s no order for Miss O’Connor?”

  “She hasn’t shown up.” He shrugged. “Guess she found something better to do.” He eased himself through the butler door and went to Mr. de la Guerra’s table.

  The man’s smile was warm and friendly as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes lit up when Rick removed the cover.

  “An American breakfast! I have been most looking forward to this.”

  “You’ve come such a long way. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

  Mr. de la Guerra spread his white napkin on his lap and then fingered his mustache. “It smells divine.”

  “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “I am quite happy, thank you.”

  Rick felt a little surge of pride as he started to back away. Mr. de la Guerra was his first European guest. Even though Marquetta had told him it would happen, he couldn’t stop himself from gushing just a bit. “I can’t get over how you came all the way from Spain to stay here.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” The man’s dark eyes flared as he looked up at Rick. “The San Manuel is of Spanish origin. My country once had a most impressive presence in the New World. We colonized distant lands and created mints to control the flow of silver back to Spain.”