2 Dead & Buried (3 page)

He picked up his binoculars and scanned the forest while pushing all thoughts of Morgan from his mind. The sooner he forgot about their past relationship, the better. He’d have to take care to keep his distance. Her safety and the success of his mission depended on it.
 

No matter how much he wanted to talk to her, Morgan Blackmoore was off limits—he couldn’t take any chances on her discovering the secret of why he was really back in town.

“What do you mean you can’t find anything on him? Can’t you trace him by his fingerprints or dental records or something?” Morgan looked across the table at Jake as she took a sip from her beer bottle.

“Only if they have records on file. This guy apparently didn’t. And he had no ID on him so …” Jake bent down to scratch Belladonna who had flopped down adoringly at his feet.

“Surely, you guys must have other ways of identifying a body?” Fiona asked.

“Well, the Noquitt P.D. isn’t exactly on the cutting edge of technology and Overton seems to be dragging his feet with this one.” Jake creased his brow. “For some strange reason, he’s not really putting a big effort into figuring out who this guy is.”

Morgan glanced across their yard at the crisp, blue Atlantic Ocean, her eyes falling on the section of cliff still marred by yellow police tape. She wondered why Overton wouldn’t be pulling out all the stops to find the identity of the man who died there. She could think of only one reason—he knew something they didn’t.

“Anyway, he’s keeping me as far from the case as he possibly can.” Jake’s words pulled Morgan’s attention back to the patio table on the edge of their backyard where she sat with Jake and her sisters. Even though Jake and Fiona had tried to keep their relationship a secret from the sheriff, this was a small town and everyone knew everyone else's business. Morgan figured Overton probably had it in for Jake now, too.

She looked at the beer bottle in front of her, condensation running down the sides created a puddle on the table. The evening sun was low in the sky and the day had cooled slightly, but it was still hot and humid—a typical Maine summer night.

She took a deep breath of salty ocean air mingled with the smell of fried clams and drained the rest of her beer. Grabbing another one from the cooler, she picked nervously at the edge of the label.

“Was he murdered?” Morgan asked.

Jake shrugged. “All I could find out was that he was killed by a blow to the head. He might have fallen and cracked his head on the rock, but he would have had to have fallen pretty hard for it to be fatal.”

“Is Overton going to try to blame us somehow?” Celeste asked from the edge of the patio where she had been watering the colorful flowers they had set in large pots and containers.

Jake ran his hands through his short cropped hair. “I think he’d like to, but without knowing who the guy is, he can’t come up with a plausible motive. Although I did hear him mention that you all had means and opportunity.”

“Well, that’s crazy. It doesn’t have anything to do with us!” Fiona’s blue eyes sparked with anger.

“I’m not so sure,” Morgan said handing Fiona a beer. “I mean, I know none of us killed him, but I’m not so sure his being on our cliff had nothing to do with us. I have a funny feeling about this.”

Celeste joined them at the table. “Oh, that’s right—Nana wanted me to tell you that you should trust your feelings, Morgan.”
 

Everyone’s head swiveled in Celeste’s direction, even Jolene who’d had her head buried in her smartphone the whole time they’d been sitting there.

“What?” A tingle ran up Morgan’s spine and she narrowed her eyes at her sister.
 

Celeste shrugged. “When I mediate, sometimes she comes and talks to me. It’s nothing unusual.”

“Sounds pretty unusual to me, Nana’s been dead for ten years.” Jolene lifted her sunglasses to stare at Celeste.

Fiona and Jake stared at her as if she’d announced she could walk on water, but Morgan noticed that didn’t seem to faze Celeste at all.

Celeste had always been spiritually minded and Morgan knew she took her yoga and meditation seriously. But she’d never heard Celeste mention anything about talking to dead people before. Morgan didn’t know what to think. She wasn’t sure she actually believed in any of that stuff, but Celeste had never been one to act all “woo woo”. Anyway, she had more important things to worry about right now.

“And what about that black hand thing?” Celeste was saying, “I feel like that might be some kind of clue, don’t you, Morgan?”

Morgan wrinkled her brow. The black mark was odd. She had no idea what it meant, but it was the only thing they had to go on at this point.

“Black hand thing?” Jolene shifted her gaze between Morgan and Celeste.

“Yeah, the victim had a round black mark on his hand. Kind of like a tattoo.”

Jolene raised her eyebrows and picked up her smartphone. “Maybe we can find something on the internet about that.”

Morgan leaned back in her chair. They’d discovered a few months ago that Jolene was something of a whiz with computers when she’d uncovered some vital information that led them to find the real killer of Prudence Littlefield and clear Morgan’s name. Morgan’s chest swelled with pride, especially since they had been worried that Jolene might not find any positive direction in life given some of her shenanigans in high school.
 

She’d matured a lot since she had graduated and was even taking a computer forensics class during the summer. Maybe she’d have a career in law enforcement?
 
God knows Morgan could use her help given the trouble Overton seemed hell bent on causing them.

Jolene’s laughter pulled her out of her thoughts. “Did you find something?”

“Not hardly. The only thing I can find is that pirates use a black mark to indicate doom or death. If a pirate is marked with it, his days are numbered.” Jolene looked up at Morgan, a smirk on her face. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”

Morgan’s heart jerked in her chest and she looked up at Fiona who was staring back at her wide-eyed. Amelia Budding’s warning about pirates and evil echoed in her head.

Jolene’s brow creased. “What? That’s silly, right?
 
There’s no such thing as pirates anymore.”

Morgan was about to answer when Belladonna leapt up on the table, let out a screech and then ran off into the bushes on the side of the house. Everyone jumped back, their chairs scraping on the patio, beers spilling on the table.

Morgan blotted beer from the crotch of her jeans, staring in the direction of the disappearing cat.

An icy tingle crept up her spine at the cat’s unlikely timing. It was almost as if she had reacted to the discussion of pirates. Morgan laughed at herself. That was ridiculous, Belladonna didn’t have uncanny powers and the days of pirates died out long ago.
 

But at this point she couldn’t afford to ignore any clues no matter how silly they seemed. And since she didn’t have much else to go on, it might be worth her while to learn a little bit more about pirates. Luckily she knew exactly the right person to help her.

The day was heating up to be a scorcher, Morgan thought, as she and Celeste walked down Maine Street toward
Reed Pawn and Antiques.
The pawn shop was located in the city, about twenty miles from their small town, and Morgan didn’t come to the city too often.
 

They’d taken her car because Celeste’s was loaded with yoga mats and various pieces of odd looking exercise equipment, including her latest obsession—kettle bells. Morgan had forgotten how busy and crowded it could be and how hard it would be to find a parking spot.
 

“I’m glad we parked a few blocks away, the morning is gorgeous, and it’s not too hot yet.” Celeste echoed her thoughts.

“Yeah, I can use the exercise after those beers last night.” Morgan looked down at her slim hips and stomach.
Were they getting bigger, or was it just her imagination?
Maybe she should cut back on the beer and ice cream.

The girls stopped in front of the upscale pawn shop, owned by their childhood friend Cal Reed. Cal was a history buff and antique expert—if anyone could tell them about pirates, it was him.

Celeste held the door open and a blast of cold air hit Morgan as soon as she stepped over the threshold.
 

“Brrr … It’s freezing in here.” Morgan rubbed her bare shoulders wishing she’d brought a sweater.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girls!” Cal stood behind the glass display case, a genuine smile highlighted the dimples on his handsome face.
 

Just seeing Cal always cheered Morgan up. They’d been friends since they were kids and he was a frequent visitor to the Blackmoore house. He was practically like a brother to them, which probably explained why he’d never dated any of them. Cal was considered one of the most charming, handsome and eligible bachelors in the county, and literally had women swooning at his feet.
 

He was well known for being a playboy, but he was also a really nice guy and Morgan was glad he hadn’t ruined the special friendship he had with the Blackmoore girls by getting romantically involved with any of them. Cal’s romances never lasted very long.

“What brings you guys here?” He asked, coming out from behind the case to envelop them both in a big hug.

“We need a history lesson,” Celeste said.

Cal raised an eyebrow and looked from Celeste to Morgan. “About what?”

“Pirates,” Morgan offered.

“Pirates?” Cal cocked an eyebrow at Morgan. “What’s going on?”

“Well, you heard about the guy on our cliff, right?” Celeste ventured.
 

“What? No. I just got back from Barbados.” Cal stared at her, concern clouding his deep blue eyes. “What guy?”

Morgan sighed. “A guy ended up dead on the cliff in our backyard. I discovered him yesterday morning.”

“How did he die?” Cal alternated his gaze between Morgan and Celeste. “What was he doing on the cliff?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Celeste said.
 

“And you have no idea who he is?”

“Nope and Overton can’t seem to figure it out either.”

Cal snorted. “I’m not surprised. Overton’s an idiot. It’s a miracle he can find his way to the police station every morning. No wonder you guys have to investigate it on your own.” He rubbed his chin then narrowed his eyes at Morgan. “But how do pirates figure into it?”

“The only clue we have is that the guy had a large black circle on his hand. Jolene looked it up and it’s supposed to be some kind of pirate sign of doom or something.” Morgan laughed. “I know it’s silly. There’s no such thing as pirates anymore, but we figure it was worth talking about. Maybe it will tie in to something useful … and we always like to have an excuse to come and talk to you.”

“Aww, you guys know you don’t need an excuse to see me. But the pirate angle might not be as farfetched as you think.” Cal leaned back against the display case.

“Really?” Morgan’s brow creased, her stomach fluttering.

“Well, there
are
modern day pirates, but I don’t think that would tie into your dead guy. Modern pirates hijack cargo ships and steal the goods or hold them for ransom. But they don’t do that around here.” Cal walked over to one of the bookshelves that lined the store and pulled out a thick leather bound book, then leafed through it. “The black mark really is a pirate warning. I believe it’s mostly fictional though. It was used to mark a pirate for death—a warning of sorts.”

“Well, the guy on the cliff sure did end up dead,” Celeste said looking over Cal’s shoulder at the page of the book he was holding open.

“I still don’t get what that has to do with us,” Morgan said.

“It might not have anything to do with you, but it could be that the guy thought your cliff was a likely place for pirates to have buried their treasure.”

Morgan laughed. “What? They only did that in the Caribbean. There’s no pirate treasure around here.”

Cal shook his head. “Legend has it many pirates buried treasure all over the Maine coast. The most Famous is Capt. William Kidd, but there were others. In fact, a cache of gold and silver Spanish coins were dug up just over in Biddeford, in the 1930s that many believe was buried there by pirates.”

Morgan felt her eyes grow wider. “Seriously? But, why our cliff?”

Cal shrugged. “Who knows? I do know there are people who make a living out of trying to find this type of treasure. Maybe someone’s research led them to your location.”

Morgan looked at Celeste. “Boy, finding a chest full of pirate treasure would sure solve all our money problems.”
 

Morgan and Fiona made a modest living with
Sticks and Stones
and Celeste did fairly well with her yoga studio, but it was barely enough to put food on the table and pay the taxes on their property—which for a waterfront mansion was a small fortune. The house had been built generations ago so, luckily, they had no mortgage. Otherwise they wouldn’t be able to afford to keep the house.

Celeste laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure there’s a bunch of pirate treasure just buried all over our yard and no one found it in the three hundred some odd years people have been living there.”