A Fishy Dish (A Hooked & Cooked Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)
Read A Fishy Dish (A Hooked & Cooked Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) Online
Authors: Lyndsey Cole
Tags: #General Fiction
A Fishy Dish
A Hooked & Cooked Cozy Mystery Series
by Lyndsey Cole
Copyright © 2016 Lyndsey Cole
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author and/or publisher. No part of this publication may be sold or hired, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the writer’s imagination and/or have been used fictitiously in such a fashion it is not meant to serve the reader as actual fact and should not be considered as actual fact. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Connect with me:
www.facebook.com/LyndseyColeAuthor
Chapter 1
Hannah’s sandal landed smack in the middle of slime.
Her foot shot forward, careening away from her body.
Her long braid swung around her neck like a snake.
With her arms helter skelter in the crisp morning air, she came precariously close to a supremely inelegant backside-landing, save for one strong arm in the right place at the right time. Said arm caught her in the nick of time. But just barely.
“Be careful, young lady,” a deep voice warned. “You need to watch where you put those dainty little feet of yours.”
Hannah glanced at her feet, thinking they were neither dainty nor little, but more the average necessity to get her from here to there. “Thank you, I guess,” she managed to utter after she was upright.
She looked at the offending slime on the dock, which was covered with flies, and smelled worse than her week-old dumpster.
“Yes, lots of fish guts on the docks.” Her savior pointed to his tall black rubber boots with a bit of yellow trim along the top. “You might want to invest in a pair of these if you plan to spend much time here. It will take a long soak to get the smell out of your toes, especially if your foot makes a regular habit of landing in this muck.”
Hannah pointed to his boots. “Looks like your dog took a liking to your boots.”
The man twisted his right boot halfway around and rubbed a rough section at the top of his boot. “Yeah, but he only chewed at the top so they still keep my feet clean and dry.”
“Hannah,” Meg hollered from across the pier, “you’re supposed to be checking out the fish, not the handsome men.”
Hannah’s hand rushed to her flushed cheek. Leave it to her right-hand, short-order cook to forget her filter when there was a pier full of fishermen staring at her. Oh yeah, Hannah remembered, Meg Holmes didn’t know what the meaning of a filter for her thoughts was. One of her qualities that at times was difficult to live with.
“You’re Hannah of the fried fish platter fame here in Hooks Harbor I’ve heard so much about?” the dark haired man asked with a slight Maine twang that was so common in the area.
Her embarrassed flush turned to a proud blush and she finally met his eyes—dark, mysterious eyes surrounded by tousled dark hair above a half grin. “Thank you for the compliment.” Hannah smiled.
He stuck his hand out toward Hannah. “Gavin Abbott.”
Hannah’s smile faded as fast as the sun disappeared behind a dark cloud. “Owner of the new seafood restaurant?”
“Ah, you’ve heard of me also. I’ve been hoping to bump into you, Ms. Hannah Holiday. I thought it was only fair to let you know you won’t hold that fried fish platter title for much longer at The Fishy Dish.” With that, he released Hannah’s hand and marched across the pier, his boots making a sucking noise with each step.
The breeze off the water carried muffled laughter to her ears. A group of fishermen leaned on the pier pylons pretending they were minding their own business while the gulls circled overhead, squawking their impatience for Hannah to get out of the way so they could snatch a bit of the fish guts.
Hannah rubbed her arm and tried to remove the tingling sensation left by Gavin Abbott’s fingers. She flipped her long braid over her shoulder, tossed her head, ignored the snickering fishermen, and joined Meg who was in a fierce argument with the fish wholesaler, Jerry Sewall.
“Listen, Jerry. If you want our business, week in and week out, you’ll need to get that price down.”
“Or what, Meg?” Jerry asked with a scowl on his face. “You’ll take your business elsewhere? It’s a long drive down to Boston to get your fish.” He leaned close to Meg. “And I know for a fact that you can’t take time away from The Fishy Dish snack bar to make the trip.” He straightened. “Now, I’ve got other customers to take care of.” He nodded toward Gavin Abbott, waiting impatiently. “Are you confirming the order or what, Meg?”
Jerry turned his back on Meg giving her a chance to look at Hannah with eyebrows raised. Hannah nodded.
“Okay, Jerry. I’ve told you what we’ll need—haddock, clams, and lobsters. Make sure you deliver by six in the morning Monday and Thursday.”
“You’ll get your order when you get it. You aren’t the only customer on my route, you know. But I’ll give you the prize as the smallest.” Jerry chuckled. He ripped the invoice off his clipboard and handed Meg a copy of the order before he moved away to help Gavin.
Meg grabbed Hannah’s arm. “I hate it when there’s only one show in town. And that show,” she tilted her head in Jerry’s direction, “knows it.”
“I don’t think his prices are bad,” Hannah answered. She was puzzled with Meg’s behavior, especially since they had no easy alternative to Jerry’s wholesale fish business.
Meg laughed. She pulled Hannah to the car. “Don’t let
him
hear you say that. Of course they aren’t bad, but I don’t want him to think he has any wiggle room to start raising them.”
“You play the game how you want. You’ve known all these people forever and I’m still learning the ins and outs.” Hannah glanced back toward the docks. “What’s the story with Gavin Abbott? It seems he has quite the competitive streak.”
“
That’s
an understatement.” Meg started her beat up pickup truck. “How do you like my new vehicle? My brother found this for me when my last wreck was too far gone to be resurrected.”
“New?”
“The newest old reliable transportation I’ve ever had.” She kissed the steering wheel. “I love this baby. I’ve always wanted a truck. The only negative is the color.”
“The color? What about the missing side mirrors and huge crack up the windshield? Never mind all the coughing and sputtering the engine seems to enjoy.”
“Right, but if it was red instead of this pukey green color, everyone would notice those
other
minor blemishes. Now, all they see is this awful color.”
“If you say so.” Hannah laughed. “Anything more you can fill me in on about Gavin Abbott?”
“Well, he’s like this truck. It’s easy to notice his clean shaven, prim and proper face so you miss all the blemishes elsewhere.”
“Such as?” Hannah picked up the fish invoice on the seat between them.
A big sigh escaped through Meg’s lips. “Such as, he doesn’t have a clue about the local, regular folk here.”
“I thought he was born here. He’s not a native?”
“Oh, he’s a native all right; born right here in Hooks Harbor. But,” Meg held her finger up for emphasis, “he was born with that proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. He
thinks
he’s a hard worker and struggles like the rest of us.” Meg looked squarely at Hannah as she flipped the blinker on before turning into the parking lot of Hannah’s Holiday Hideaway. “His problem is he just doesn’t get it.”
Hannah’s bottom lip puffed out. “Is that how everyone looks at me, too? I
do
work hard and I
do
have to make this business profitable or I’ll lose it all.”
“No, your case is different. Sure, you inherited this fantastic piece of coastal Maine paradise from your Great Aunt Caroline, but you didn’t arrive on this earth without a care in the world. And, to Caroline’s benefit, she left you enough mullah to get you going with the snack bar and cottage business, but not enough to let you sit on the beach enjoying the sunshine while everyone around you has to struggle.”
Hannah sat quietly in the stopped vehicle, staring at the blue ocean surging in and out on the sandy beach.
Gulls stood in a group, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine.
A few boats bobbed through the waves.
A warm breeze carried the salty ocean smell through the open truck window.
Staring at the ocean, Hannah told Meg what Gavin said to her about the fried fish platter.
Meg snorted. “In his dreams. My fried fish platter always wins, hands down. Even with the fancy schmancy French chef he hired, he doesn’t have a chance. What they don’t understand is that you have to be one of the regular hard working folks around here to appreciate how to infuse that
local
flavor and emotion into the fish.”
“Really?” Hannah’s forehead wrinkled with confusion. “How do you do that?”
Meg slapped Hannah’s leg. “First, you have to stop being so gullible. Everyone around here knows you are about the easiest person to bamboozle with a crazy story.” Meg’s face turned serious. “The secret is that the locals
like
me and they don’t like that snobby, I’m-better-than-everyone-else, Gavin Abbott, who has more money than half this town put together. As long as you stick with me, you’re all set.”
Hannah climbed out of Meg’s truck and unfolded the fish invoice, quickly skimming the items. “Hey, what’s this at the bottom?
Tonight at seven, my place
.” Her eyes questioned Meg. “You and Jerry are dating?”
Meg ripped the paper from Hannah’s fingers. “What are you talking about?” She scanned the paper. “Well, I guess that cat’s out of the bag. I don’t want to meet him tonight anyway. I went to his baseball game last night and
that
was a complete drag.”
“So, what was all the complaining about his prices?”
“I keep business and pleasure separate,” she winked at Hannah. “We’ve got to keep up appearances in public, but just so you know, he does give you a ten percent discount for
personal reasons
. And, I won’t complain when you add that little bonus to my paycheck.”
Meg walked to the snack bar, recently christened,
The Fishy Dish
. Hannah followed the path to her office, which filled about a quarter of Cottage One, where she lived.
She silently thanked her Great Aunt Caroline for the millionth time for leaving this incredible slice of the Maine coastline to her. For having faith in her to keep the snack bar and cottages above water—and she wasn’t thinking of the ocean variety, although that could be a problem if a big Nor’easter hit at high tide. No, she still had a lot to learn, and having Meg’s expertise was invaluable.
“Are you ready for the candlelight vigil tomorrow night?” Jack asked as soon as Hannah entered the tiny, neat-as-a-pin, office.