Secrets of the Treasure King Read online

  Contents

  Half Title Page

  Books by Terry Ambrose

  Title Page

  Copyright - Kindle

  About the Author

  Chapter One - Alex

  Chapter Two - Rick

  Chapter Three - Alex

  Chapter Four - Rick

  Chapter Five - Alex

  Chapter Six - Rick

  Chapter Seven - Alex

  Chapter Eight - Rick

  Chapter Nine - Rick

  Chapter Ten - Alex

  Chapter Eleven - Rick

  Chapter Twelve - Alex

  Chapter Thirteen - Rick

  Chapter Fourteen - Alex

  Chapter Fifteen - Rick

  Chapter Sixteen - Rick

  Chapter Seventeen - Alex

  Chapter Eighteen - Rick

  Chapter Nineteen - Rick

  Chapter Twenty - Alex

  Chapter Twenty-One - Rick

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Rick

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Alex

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Rick

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Alex

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Rick

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Rick

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Alex

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Rick

  Chapter Thirty - Alex

  Chapter Thirty-One - Rick

  Chapter Thirty-Two - Alex

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Rick

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Alex

  Chapter Thirty-Five - Rick

  Chapter Thirty-Six - Alex

  Chapter Thirty-Seven - Rick

  Chapter Thirty-Eight - Alex

  Chapter Thirty-Nine - Rick

  Chapter Forty - Alex

  Chapter Forty-One - Rick

  Chapter Forty-Two - Rick

  Chapter Forty-Three - Alex

  Chapter Forty-Four - Rick

  Chapter Forty-Five - Rick

  Chapter Forty-Six - Alex

  Chapter Forty-Seven - Rick

  Chapter Forty-Eight - Alex

  Chapter Forty-Nine - Rick

  Chapter Fifty - Alex

  Chapter Fifty-One - Rick

  Chapter Fifty-Two - Alex

  Chapter Fifty-Three - Rick

  Chapter Fifty-Four - Alex

  Chapter Fifty-Five - Rick

  Chapter Fifty-Six - Alex

  Chapter Fifty-Seven - Rick

  Chapter Fifty-Eight - Rick

  Chapter Fifty-Nine - Alex

  Chapter Sixty - Rick

  Chapter Sixty-One - Rick

  Chapter Sixty-Two - Alex

  Chapter Sixty-Three - Alex

  Author's Notes

  SECRETS

  OF THE

  TREASURE KING

  BOOKS BY TERRY AMBROSE

  Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mysteries

  A Treasure to Die For

  Clues in the Sand

  The Killer Christmas Sweater Club

  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

  The Scent of Waikiki

  License to Lie Series

  License to Lie

  Con Game

  The Scent of Waikiki

  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

  SECRETS

  OF THE

  TREASURE KING

  Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mystery #4

  Terry Ambrose

  COPYRIGHT

  Secrets of the Treasure King

  ASIN: B085DC4ZVS

  Copyright © 2020 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. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, business, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover artwork by Dar Albert

  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.

  Terry has written more than a dozen books, several of which have been award finalists. In 2014, his thriller, “Con Game,” won the San Diego Book Awards for Best Action-Thriller. His series include the Trouble in Paradise McKenna Mysteries, the Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mysteries, and the License to Lie thriller series.

  You can learn more about Terry and his writing at terryambrose.com.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alex

  MARCH 25

  Hey Journal,

  Guess what? Seaside Cove had a big bust last night! Everybody in town is talking about our new deputy. Her name is Pamela Baker and she went to high school with Marquetta. She caught a burglar in the act and chased him down in the rain and muck! She got totally soaked, but she got him. Marquetta says the deputy was just doing her job, but I think it’s awesome ‘cause it proves girls can do anything they want!

  Today, Mrs. King, the old lady who’s staying in the Jib Room, asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. Can you believe it? It’s like the third time a guest has asked me that! I’m only eleven, but with everybody always asking me the same question, I guess I’d better come up with something. I told Mrs. King I’m going into law enforcement. She asked me why and I told her about the murders I helped the cops solve.

  If I am gonna be a cop, Deputy Baker would be an awesome role model. Right? She’s only been here a month, but she’s made a super big impact ‘cause she stopped our big crime wave. Okay, it wasn’t a huge wave. It was only a few home burglaries, but that’s kinda big for Seaside Cove. It would be awesome to meet Deputy Baker. The cool thing about Seaside Cove is everybody knows everybody else, so that’s gonna happen for sure.

  OMG. I just had an idea. Maybe I could get Deputy Baker to come to our school for next month’s career day? Or I could interview her for the Cove Talkers newsletter…that would be awesome! I might ask Marquetta what she thinks.

  My dad’s gonna be up in a couple minutes to say goodnight so I gotta go.

  Bye for now,

  Alex

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rick

  THE FIRST HINTS of sunrise glimmered outside the windows of Rick Atwood’s office. Though it was barely dawn, he’d been at work for nearly an hour. The fifteen-year-old news article he’d been reading on his laptop had troubled him off and on during the night.

  Turning his attention away from his laptop, Rick sat back in the plush leather chair that had once belonged to his grandfather. Nothing in this office—from the coffered ceiling to the mahogany desk and matching guest chairs to the bookshelves lined with first editions—had been his choice. It had all come with the B&B as part of his inheritance.

  Over the past year, he’d come to appreciate the mahogany’s elegance. Each day he looked forward to spending time at his desk and allowing himself to drink in the smell of the leather bindings and old paper
that hung in the air like a faint perfume.

  If he were being truthful, even the coffered ceiling, which felt like an ode to a man prone to extravagance, was growing on him. It was all classic Captain Jack—a man of impeccable taste and limited budget. A man who somehow played a central role in that article on the laptop.

  Trading his life as a New York City reporter for that of a small-town innkeeper had brought changes Rick never anticipated—dodging marriage proposals because he’d instantly become the town’s most eligible bachelor, keeping his daughter from sticking her nose into murder investigations, or falling in love with the B&B’s cook. He didn’t miss New York, and he’d finally accepted the Seaside Cove rumor mill for what it was, a form of reality TV in which everyone participated.

  Rick planted his elbows on the desk and reread the final paragraph of the news story he’d discovered in the San Ladron Times archives just last week.

  And so, Neal Weiss, a man of extraordinary courage and determination, sailed off in search of sunken treasure while his ten-year-old daughter waved goodbye from the edge of the docks. How tragic that a rain-soaked day was the last time a little girl would see her father. Even more tragic is the fact that Neal Weiss never found the treasure he sought. Everyone in Seaside Cove will miss Neal Weiss, whose death at sea was all for nought.

  The story, written by J.K. Keneally, was remarkably bad journalism—not much more than an obituary embellished with purple prose about foul weather, men of courage, and sunken treasure. Rick’s editor in New York would never have let him get off so easily. He would have been told to build a story around the photograph of two men standing in the rain looking grim and determined.

  He knew from experience those were not the faces of men wishing each other well. Fifteen years after her father’s death, he’d promised Marquetta he would solve the mystery of what happened between her father, Neal Weiss, and his grandfather, Captain Jack Atwood.

  Rick opened the contact form for the San Ladron Times and filled out his request to have J.K. Keneally contact him. He closed the lid of the laptop and let out a frustrated sigh. All he could do now was wait.

  It was time to start the breakfast preparations. Marquetta was most likely already working in the kitchen. He couldn’t wait to see her, but wouldn’t mention what he’d found until he knew more.

  The quiet of the B&B hallway muffled Rick’s footsteps as he made his way to the stairs and then down to the first floor. Sunday mornings were always like this. Or so it seemed. Later, when the guests awoke, the old house would spring to life. Rick wove through the living room and dining area, straightening up as he went.

  Light shined through the crack between the butler door and the jamb. He stopped, closed his eyes, and listened to the sounds of Marquetta working in the kitchen. He knew her every move. When she placed her twelve-inch skillet on the stove. When she repositioned it to center it on the burner. It was those little habits he’d come to adore. The imperfections. He bit his lower lip. The fact that he knew her so well made him smile. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed through the door.

  Marquetta snuck a quick look at him, her gray eyes smiling playfully. She’d pulled her auburn hair back in a ponytail and secured it with a red scrunchy. “Well, if it isn’t the town’s most eligible bachelor.”

  Rick crossed the room, placed his hand at the small of Marquetta’s back, and gently pulled her toward him. She kissed him softly, then pulled away and sighed.

  “I’m not on the market. My heart has been captured by a young woman who’s a remarkably good cook.”

  “Oh, my. Imagine all those mothers who are still holding out hope.”

  Rick pulled her closer and kissed her again. “That’s twenty-two mothers, Ms. Weiss. Don’t you forget it.”

  “I won’t, boss.” Marquetta gave him a sly smile. “Because I just heard there are still a few who are clinging to their dreams of snagging you as a son-in-law.”

  “Oh, God no. Please don’t tell me Mrs. Ticknor is one of them.”

  “Absolutely. I hear she’s been checking out books from the library on aphrodisiacs.”

  “We need to get busy,” Rick said.

  “She’s planning on inviting you to dinner.”

  “You’re being insubordinate, Ms. Weiss.”

  “You planning on firing me, boss?”

  A swarm of butterflies took flight in Rick’s stomach and his cheeks warmed. “Not today.” Not ever, he thought. Why couldn’t he go all Cary Grant on her? Be Mr. Suave? Quip something clever instead of having his mind go blank?

  “Why, Mr. Atwood, I do believe you’re blushing.”

  “It’s hot in here.” Rick swallowed hard and held Marquetta’s gaze. Her cheeks flushed to a bright crimson. Thank goodness he wasn’t the only one flummoxed by their relationship. “I’d better take care of the upstairs coffee station. It’s almost six and you know how grumpy the guests get if they don’t get their caffeine fix.”

  “Right. And Alex will be down soon.”

  “We don’t need to give her any encouragement.”

  Marquetta looked at Rick with raised eyebrows. “The little matchmaker has been at it again?”

  “Not in the last eight hours.”

  “Could be a record.”

  “I’m just glad my divorce has been finalized. It means Alex and I are finally ready to start a new chapter in our lives.” He paused, then added, “A better chapter.”

  Her cheeks brightened again and she smiled. “We need to take it slow.”

  “I know. That doesn’t mean my daughter is going to see it the same way. You know what she wants. And Ms. Weiss, I think it’s you who are blushing now.”

  Marquetta suppressed a smile and turned back to the stove. She pretended to reposition the skillet, but it wound up in the same place where it started. She sniffled and avoided looking at him as she asked, “How’s your research going?”

  Rick’s pulse quickened. It was the question he feared. “It’s taking forever. You know how it is—tons of reading boring news stories looking for a single lead that might actually be valuable information.”

  There was a long pause, then Marquetta faced him. “Maybe it’s a waste of time, Rick.”

  “This is important to you. Right?”

  “The reasons behind my dad’s death have haunted me my entire life.” Marquetta stopped, her brow furrowing. “I’ve never understood why he sailed that day. It’s like I can’t commit to any kind of relationship until I know what really happened. Why he chose death over me and my mom.”

  Rick took Marquetta’s hands in his and sighed. How much he wanted to tell her what he’d found, but he couldn’t raise her hopes. Not yet. “We are going to bring you closure. I promise.”

  After an awkward few seconds in which neither seemed to want to make the next move, Marquetta said, “You’d better get started on the coffee.”

  Rick picked up the tray she had already prepared. In addition to the large carafes of regular coffee, decaf, and hot water—there were little packets of various sweeteners, a small carafe of cream, and another of nonfat milk. He backed out through the butler door, thankful for the assignment and the chance to delay further discussion.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Alex

  THERE’S NO LIGHT coming through the drapes of my window when I wake up. I say a quick, please, don’t let it be raining, then throw back the covers and rush to look outside.

  The clouds are gone! Awesome. It’s the first day of spring break! And the rain stopped. That is super awesome. I guess spring break doesn’t technically start until Monday. But that’s cool. I’m counting today anyway.

  I get dressed and slip out the door. I don’t want to wake the guests, so I close my door slowly. My dad’s down the hall. He’s kneeling next to the coffee station. He might be tall and handsome, but he’s a terrible singer. He’s humming a song I don’t know and it sounds awful. I don’t mind, though. He’s happy and that’s what matters most. We keep our voices low
when I pass him.

  “Hey, Daddy.”

  He reaches out so I can give him a hug and says, “Good morning, kiddo. How’d you sleep?”

  I give him a thumbs up and let him wrap his arms around me. “Good,” I say when he lets me go. I’m totally not telling him about the awesome dream I had last night. Daddy and Marquetta were already married and Marquetta was holding my new baby sister.

  Daddy looks at me and says, “You look more like your mom everyday.”

  “I guess.” I pause, then smile. “Marquetta says I got your blue eyes ‘cause of their shape.”

  “That may be, but there’s no question of where you got your red hair.”

  It hurts when I think of how my mom abandoned us. Then how she tried to come back into our lives. Things are getting better with her, but…

  “I gotta go help Marquetta,” I turn away before Daddy sees the tears I feel pressing against my eyelids. On the way downstairs, I take a few deep breaths to clear my head.

  Mr. West is in the living room. His cheeks are rosy, and he’s breathing kinda heavy. He has to be coming back from what he calls his morning constitutional. I don’t get how his walk is related to the constitution, but maybe it’s an old-person thing. That could be ‘cause he’s totally old enough to be my grandfather. He waves and we say hi.

  “It’s a beautiful morning, Alex. I hope you can tell me you have that same daily special on the menu again. It’s my last day here, you know.”

  I totally know today’s his last day. He reminded me yesterday about fifteen times. Mr. West is a retired real estate broker from LA. and says he’s thinking of moving to Seaside Cove now that he’s discovered us. It’s funny ‘cause each day he asks for the daily special. That means he wants Scotch Eggs, toast, and a side of fruit.

  “Marquetta can make that for you for sure, Mr. West. We’ll miss you!” I give him a big hug and his eyes get kinda watery.

  “I’ll miss you, too. These early morning exchanges brighten my day.” He smiles at me, then looks up the stairs. “Well, better get cleaned up. I don’t want to be late for my morning repast!”