Mystery Comes in Waves Read online

  Mystery Comes in Waves

  ______

  Book Three – Paige Comber Mysteries

  by Agatha Ball

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  MYSTERY COMES IN WAVES

  First edition. May 23, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Agatha Ball.

  ISBN: 978-1393578512

  Written by Agatha Ball.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  DEDICATION

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Books by Agatha Ball

  DEDICATION

  To Ethan and Makayla on the start of their endless summer

  Chapter One

  The heat of August was making the kitchen of Bitter Beans almost unbearable. I fanned myself with one of the baking pans as I waited for my dough to rise. The island was usually pretty immune to high temperatures, but this heat wave was making me think we should switch from pastries to popsicles until Mother Nature's hot flash settled down.

  My name is Paige Comber. My plan when I graduated school was to jet off to Paris to train at the Cordon Bleu. My mom, instead, shipped me off to work in my granny's bakery. She wanted me to get a healthy dose of reality. Rather than grinding days of mindless drudgery, though, it had turned into a crazy summer. Couple of murders, an attempt or two on my life, but on the flip side, I met this really great guy named Nate. And bonus! We learned a few weeks ago he was my best friend Johnny's secret cousin.

  I glanced up at the clock and wondered when Granny would be back from her afternoon walk. Usually, I was up with the roosters to do our daily bake, but there was a town council meeting this evening and Nate had asked if I would cater. How could I say no? Granny was supposed to be covering the front counter, but her posse of gal pals had insisted she get caught up on all the gossip. And seeing how the gossip might have something to do with Nate, I told her to go do some investigating and bring me back all the juicy details.

  When Nate's uncle died, he had been in the process of selling the island to a land developer to turn the whole place into a cruise port. But Nate and Johnny fought back and secured historical status for the town. Sadly, it was turning out to be a lot more headache than I think either of them were bargaining for. At least the citizens were onboard. Heck, they loved the island even more than Nate, who was still a bit of a newcomer. But in order for the plan to succeed, there were going to be new building regulations and remodeling restrictions. Preservation and restoration is all fun and games until it hits a person's bank account. Tonight was to gather ideas to ensure that investing in Seaside's charm was a financially beneficial arrangement for everyone.

  Nate had the brilliant insight that it is hard to talk reasonably with the hangry, so that's where I came in. I was grateful there was something I could do to help. There is power in my cinnamon rolls and I was pretty sure the smell of fresh coffee and yummy things would make all the information a little easier to swallow.

  I pulled my tray out of the proving drawer and shoved it in the oven. Then, I took a satisfied step back. My work was done for a few minutes. I retied my long, chestnut hair into a sweaty ponytail and grabbed ice water to cool down.

  I walked out into the bookshop, grateful for the ceiling fans overhead, and I straightened the shelves for the umpteenth time. Bitter Beans had an old-timey western feel to it. Little tables with checkerboards circled a potbelly stove Granny fired up in the winter. The hardwood floors were smooth from the years of feet treading their surface. Granny kept the store stocked with books on local history and summer reads well suited for bingeing on the beach. Captain, my Granny's orange, stripy cat lifted his sleepy head to see who was disturbing his afternoon nap, stretched, and then curled up again. He was a bit of a Seaside celebrity and folks came from far and wide to snap a selfie with him.

  Or at least, usually they did. The day had been surprisingly light and I wondered where all the customers were. Had school started early? I peered out onto the street. It was disturbing not to have a line of people. I wandered back to wipe down counters when suddenly I heard the bell over the front door tinkle.

  Granny came storming in, her eyes flaring with anger. Her turquoise purse, which matched her turquoise kitten heels, swayed dangerously from her wrist.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "Do you know what that ex-boyfriend of yours did?" she inquired, cocking her hip in outrage.

  "No...?" I replied.

  She pointed a bright pink manicured nail at the door. "He's netting customers out of our stream like a fisherman scooping up tuna."

  "What?" I asked.

  She gathered herself and patted her black bouffant into place. "He's got a sign outside his bar offering fresh coffee and breakfast. Fresh coffee, my patootie. I've seen his empty metal cans in the trash, pre-ground and bought off a grocery store shelf. But those tourists don't know they're being taken for fools. The ferry traffic sees him before they make it here and swallow down that swill. No wonder business has been slow." She crossed her arms. "I mean, not even Yvette and her café would stoop so low. NOT EVEN YVETTE."

  Yvette owned a place on Main Street that served sandwiches and ice cream. Occasionally, we had some crossover, but there was an understood treaty between shop owners not to cross into each other's territory. I couldn't believe Trevor would do something like this. I mean, he was always ambitious, and not above a little political play. But for him to fire that sort of a shot across our bow? Advertising coffee? We were THE coffee shop on Seaside.

  But then I thought of his girlfriend, Madison, and the pieces started to fall into place. She was a "winner take all" kind of girl, and had no loyalties to the people who made up this island.

  "As if I didn't have enough to recover from with those horse tranquilizers and missing most of the Founders Festival... to have a fellow Seaside businessman up in my business! He even put on his sign he's got air conditioning!" She was so angry she snorted. "AIR CONDITIONING!"

  I resisted the urge to wipe away the traitorous trickle of sweat that was dripping down my brow.

  "And don't you tell me that air conditioning sounds pretty good on a hot day like today!" she said.

  "Who would ever say anything like that? It feels great," I lied.

  "Because if I wasn't so hopping mad at him, I would absolutely go into that Saloon of his myself for a blast of that icy cold air." She dabbed her neck. "I'm calling the A/C installer right now and don't think you can talk me out of it." Granny sashayed behind the counter. "Good thing I saved up for a rainy day."

  A psychopath had tried to kill Johnny a few weeks ago and Granny was caught in the crossfire. It happened during the Founders Festival, which is like the Christmas season for Seaside businesses and she took a pretty big hit to her bottom line.

  "Is everything going to be okay?" I asked with concern.

  "Oh! Sure, sure..." Granny said, pulling out a thick, yellow pages directory from a drawer. "We'll weather this storm. It
's not even a storm! It's just a bit drizzly." She glanced in the direction of Trevor's bar and her eyes narrowed. "But I'm going to make sure that young man gets a little education on how we conduct ourselves on this island." She tucked the directory into the crook of her arm and turned toward the door to her apartment. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to slip into something more fabulous for my battle armor this evening."

  Before I could even respond, the timer went off. I hurried off to pull my buns out of the oven before they burned. I could hear her heels clicking up the stairs.

  I did not envy Trevor.

  You do not get on Granny's bad side.

  Her words troubled me, though. I wondered how bad missing the Founders Festival really was. I loved Bitter Beans and hoped Granny wasn't downplaying how serious things were. The fact she mentioned it at all meant that it was probably pretty bad.

  My mind went over the events of that week. I had spent so much time sleuthing, but not much time behind the counter. I mean, yes, the sleuthing had saved Johnny's life, but now that the crisis had passed, were her dreams at risk? She'd never blame me for this financial hiccup, but that didn't keep me from blaming myself.

  As I placed the buns out to cool, noting that we still didn't have any customers, I vowed I'd do whatever it took to help Granny fix it.

  Chapter Two

  Nate and Johnny grabbed the coffee carafes as I taped the last pink box closed, the scent of the fresh pastries still lingering in the air. I dashed out the store after them and got there just in time to see they had finished loading Nate's truck. Perfect timing is perfect.

  "I appreciate you doing this for me," Nate said with a smile, his dark, brown eyes soft with gratitude. He took the box from me and gave me a hand climbing into the cab.

  "Bitter Beans appreciates your financial support," I half-joked, settling into the middle of the bench seat.

  Now, one of the things that makes Nate such a great boyfriend is he catches on when there's some subtext to what I'm saying. "Everything okay?" he asked.

  I took the box from him as Johnny climbed in the passenger side next to me.

  "Oh, Granny just mentioned..." I stopped myself. I wanted to pretend like this was nothing and we'd get over it, but the thing about having a great boyfriend, as opposed to a jerk boyfriend like Trevor, is that you actually tell them the truth and they can handle it. "When Granny was tranquilized by that nutcase, she missed a lot of work. I didn't keep the shop open as much as I should have during the busiest week of the year and the finances are tough." I couldn't help the huge sigh that escaped from me. "I feel like it's my fault."

  "It's not your fault!" Nate protested. His outrage that I would even consider carrying around this guilt made me feel a little better.

  "I was running around when Granny needed me to mind the shop...."

  "If it hadn't have been for you, Johnny would be dead."

  "I appreciate that!" Johnny announced as he put on his seatbelt. "And, hey, I have some money from my inheritance. I'll come down to buy breakfast every day!"

  "Thanks, Johnny," I said, patting his knee. Johnny had a rough time growing up and Granny had kept him fed and cared for when his dad couldn't be bothered. It was really sweet he wanted to return her kindness now.

  "Seaside operates on too tight a margin," Nate said as he climbed behind the wheel. "It isn't right that people should have to place their entire future on one week of tourism."

  "And me buying breakfast," added Johnny.

  "We've got to figure out a way to make this better."

  "If only there were lots of weeks of tourism..." Johnny mused, staring out at the ocean. "I was thinking..." And then he stopped. I guess that was as far as the thought went.

  Nate turned on the engine. "No, you might be on to something."

  Johnny brightened, buoyed by Nate's approval. "Aw! Thanks, cuz!" He reached across me to give Nate a high five, getting only slightly strangled by his seatbelt, and then settled back to reflect. "Yeah, Founders Week is so much fun, we should have one, like, ALL THE TIME. It would be AWESOME. Donuts and cotton candy every day..." He leaned his head against the side window dreamily. "That would be the best... Cotton candy..."

  Using one hand to drive, Nate intertwined his fingers with mine in the promise that he was going to help fix this. I drank in the way the streetlights softly passed across his high cheekbones and flat, crooked nose. Sometimes, just having someone to hold your hand through a rough spot is the thing you need most.

  We drove the short distance to the town hall. It was a medium-sized clapboard building painted white with black shutters. It had been built around the turn of the century, but with the wear from the wind and salt air, I think every bit of it had been replaced at some point or another. It certainly wasn't elegant, but it was a part of the town. Most everyone who lived here had rented it for their wedding reception or graduation.

  As I entered the front doors, I was hit by the familiar smell of old latex paint and lemon floor degreaser. It brought back memories of church socials and summer events. A lot of Friday nights had been spent here. Mom and Granny would drop Johnny and me off for movies or dances. So many happy memories. I hoped that this evening would not wreck them all.

  Granny was manning the welcome table and gave us a wink as we brought in the refreshments. Nate dropped everything off and then made a beeline to get ready.

  Smart man.

  The smell of Bitter Beans' deliciousness brought folks stampeding over. I practically had to elbow my way out. At least everyone seemed in a good mood, though. I hoped it would last.

  I craned my neck over the crowd and spotted Nate shuffling his notes at the front podium. His floppy, brown hair kept falling into his eyes and, nervously, he kept trying to push it back. This was, really, the first time Nate had ever run a public meeting. I thought about how different he was from Trevor. Trevor, with his dreams of winning political races and basking in the adoration of a grateful town. And Nate, who just wanted to do right by everyone.

  I caught his eye and gave him a great big thumbs up. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear. But instead, he picked up the gavel and tapped it authoritatively on the table.

  "If I could call this meeting to order!"

  The buzz of citizens died down as everyone took their seat. But just as a hush fell over the crowd, the double-doors to the room opened. Everyone turned to see the latecomers.

  I could barely contain my eye roll.

  Standing there to make their grand entrance was Seaside Barbie, also known as Madison, and my stupid ex-boyfriend, Trevor. Madison, true to form, was wearing a body-hugging, mini-skirt, suit jacket, and stiletto heels. She flipped her long, blonde, flat ironed hair over her shoulder innocently. I hoped her shoe got caught in one of the floorboards. She had tried to pressure Nate into selling the island to a company she represented so they could turn it into a gentrified, tourist trap, cruise ship port. She then glommed on to my ex-boyfriend and I still couldn't figure out if it was because she actually liked him or if she just thought somehow it would piss us off. Joke was on her. She was more than welcome to Trevor. Especially since he decided to play dirty with our coffee customers.

  Nate pretended they weren't completely disrupting things as they crawled over a bunch of people to get to seats in the middle. There were a ton of empty seats in the back near the door.

  Nate cleared his throat. "So, as I said, I would like to call this meeting to order. If we could have the minutes from the last meeting read by our board secretary..."

  The meeting droned on with all of the political minutiae. I glanced over at Trevor. My ex had wanted to be a politician. He even majored in political science in school and broke up with me because he thought I might be holding his career back. Unfortunately, his uncle turning out to be a murderer did more damage to his future than I ever could.

  With no clear path, Trevor took over his uncle's abandoned bar, renaming it and giving it a makeover.
I thought it was cute naming it Trevor's Saloon and embracing the old west vibe of the Main Street. Now I wanted a duel at high noon.

  Trevor looked super bored. I think he was more interested in the perks and the power trip of political office rather than the ugly truth of what being a community leader actually entailed. Madison, however, was leaning forward, hanging onto every word. I'm pretty sure her conniving little brain was looking for some loophole that would allow her to get her claws in and complete the development project.

  Finally, the meeting moved on to new business.

  "So, as you know, a lot has happened in Seaside since I arrived," said Nate. The room tittered. It was the understatement of the year. Nate motioned to Johnny. "We learned of my uncle's proposition to turn Seaside into a cruise ship port, but as you know, we applied and received historic protection."

  Madison gave out an audible huff of annoyance. She had really been gunning for that commission. Fortunately, she didn't have any allies in the audience that I could see.

  "Now, this comes with some grants and financial support from the state, but we need to let them know what ideas we have for helping to promote the history of Seaside. It was brought to my attention that the economic security of Seaside often comes down to the financial success of the Founders Festival."

  Granny reached over and gripped my hand. I looked up at her and she was smiling at me. She mouthed, "Thank you."

  Nate, however, continued talking. "This seems like a precarious position to be in. For all of us. So, I'm seeking out ideas for other events that might bring people to our shores."

  "How about a cruise ship?" Madison called out. "You'd have all the people you would want!"

  The room laughed, but Nate waved them down. "ASIDE from selling out the soul of our island and opening it up to crowds we don't have the infrastructure to support, not to mention potential environmental damage."