Kingdom by the Sea (Romantic Suspense) (25 page)

“So how did they
patch things up?” Nicole asked Vickie now. 

Vickie shrugged,
splashing a few drops of her wine on the rug with an outward gesture of her
arm.  “I'm not sure how they smoothed things over.  Except that, well, when
Ginger came home it was soon after Walt Baker disappeared.  He was lost at sea,
you know.” 

Nicole nodded. 

“And I guess
Hazel really needed her so all was forgiven.  Who knows?” 

“So Portia never
got her hands on the recipe?” Michael said.  Vickie shook her head..  “And
Hazel never went public with it?  Cut a deal with Nabisco or the girl scouts or
whoever buys cookie recipes?”  His tone was more than a little skeptical.

Again, Vickie
shook her head.  “I mean, everyone assumes Hazel has it somewhere, but nobody
really knows,” she remarked, slightly slurring the word
really
.

“And nobody knows
what ever happened to Portia?” Nicole asked.

“They don't talk
about it.  Like I said, this all happened a long time ago.  I guess Portia
could have come back to
Chatham
at some time since then.  Who knows?”  Haplessly,
Vickie shrugged.  “Maybe she dropped off the face of the earth like Walt
Baker.  Stranger things have happened, I guess.” 

Suddenly curious
about the type of man who would drop to one knee and ask Hazel to be his bride,
Nicole said, “What was Walt Baker like, anyway?” 

Lovesick fool? 
Martyr in training?  Glutton for punishment?
 

“He seemed nice
enough.  Kind of wimpy and quiet.  Hazel pretty much bossed the guy to
death—oh!  Sorry...bad choice of words.”

Surprising
everyone then, Todd spoke up.  His tone was earnest, serious.  “Sometimes a man
can love a difficult woman.  Love her with everything he has,” he added slowly,
deliberately, and there was no missing the hidden personal meaning here.  It
was about as hidden as a purloined letter, or a Buick in a field.  “Sometimes
it's against all reason,” Todd continued, looking intently at his wife, “but he
loves her anyway.  And he will do
anything
to keep her happy.”

Danny Keegan
drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for Vickie to arrive.  She
was supposed to go to some dinner and then meet up by Oyster Pond afterward for
their usual.  No way she'd want to screw out here though; the weather was
getting colder everyday.  Which was why he was keeping his car warmed up, the
heat on, the radio going—so Vickie wouldn't have much left to complain about
when she finally showed up.  Idly, he picked up the brown envelope on the
passenger seat beside him, and peeked inside.  No need, really.  He knew
exactly what was in there, because he had put it there himself.  Hopefully this
would end Vickie's obsession with that guy, Michael—and she could get back to
focusing on
him
.  

A few white lies,
no biggie, Danny thought to himself with a smirk.  Hell, it was funny, really. 
Here Vickie had asked him to use his cop connections to find out everything he
could about Michael King, and instead, he'd used the station computer to create
a phony “inquiry” document.  The form itself looked so damn official, Vickie
wouldn't even question anything that was printed on it.  And Danny had drummed
up some good stuff. 

Not for nothing,
but he
had
tried to find out some information.  Except he quickly
realized what a pain in the ass it would be when about seventy listings turned
up for the name “King” in the Boston area.  Was Danny supposed to search
harder, make a few calls even...?  Get real.  He wasn’t about to spend his own
time researching some guy who was passing through town.  Fuck that.  Vickie
wanted “information” on Michael King?  Fine.  Danny would give her
plenty
of
information.  So what if he'd made it all up? 

Now he snickered
to himself, thinking of what he'd come up with.  He'd even thrown in some real
goody-goody shit, which would definitely turn her off.  Vickie got off on bad
boys. 

Just then a light
flashed over his dashboard.  He turned.  Vickie was pulling up beside his car. 
She shut off her engine and cut her lights.  Nice, Danny thought, nodding. 
After he was done “reporting his findings,” he doubted that Vickie would want
anything to do with Michael King.

***

Later, when they
were alone, Michael and Nicole compared notes at the kitchen table. 

“Before we get
started—I'm sorry—but what is the deal with Todd?”  

“Tell me about
it!” Michael agreed right away.  “Is that guy the most castrated wuss of the
century or what?”  He'd almost said worse than “wuss,” so he supposed he was
making some improvement with his foul mouth around Nicole. 

Thoughtfully, she
folded her hands, pressed them to her chin.  Her green eyes narrowed in
concentration.  Michael's mouth quirked a little; she was so damn pretty.  He
hadn't realized just how much so until now.  Especially her lips, natural and
lush and pink, and her eyes, lit up, looked almost electric.  “I have to give
Vickie credit.  She wasn't as libidinous as last time.  Though she did give you
that super long hug goodbye at the end.  And Todd just stood there like it was
normal!” 

“The hug's the
least of it,” Michael said.  “I get the feeling she can barely stand the guy.” 

Recapping the
Bloomingdale history, both Michael and Nicole agreed that it didn't seem
connected to Nina.  “And I can't believe for a minute that Aunt Nina is trying
to lead me to some secret recipe,” Nicole added.  “Because even if she did have
it or know where it was, she would never steal something from someone else.” 
Firmly, Nicole shook her head.  “No—I must have misunderstood the clues.  Maybe
Nina wasn't leading me to the Bloomingdale sisters, after all.  I just don't
know.”  She sank her chin into her hands. 

As if sensing she
needed a pick-me-up, Puddle trotted over from her dog-bed and stretched up toward
Nicole's lap.  “Oh...hi, sweetie, you want to come up?”  Michael couldn't help
but smile as he watched Nicole pick up the dog up tenderly, like she were a
child.

“Michael
reached out and rubbed Nicole's shoulder, gave it a squeeze.  “Is it possible
that we're looking at this from the wrong angle?”

“Of
course it is!” she admitted freely.

He
grinned.  “What I mean is—maybe it's not so much something your aunt is trying
to tell you, but somewhere she's trying to lead you.”

“Wait,
what's the difference?” Nicole asked, then realized.  “Oh...you mean
physically? Like leading me to an actual destination?”

“Yes,
exactly.  Maybe the clues are more like points on a map, and whatever
revelation is at the heart of all this is an actual thing that is hidden
somewhere.  Hidden by your aunt and meant for you to find.” 

Nicole
tilted her head.  “Why would you say that?”

Cautiously,
Michael backed off.  He couldn't afford to come on too strong now or Nicole
might suspect that he had his own interest in this puzzle.  With a simple
shrug, he said, “It just occurred to me.  Remember that story you told me, how
a couple of kids found some ancient coins buried underneath the old
lighthouse?”

Slowly
nodding, Nicole said, “Yes, of course.  Except that was a fluke.  It was pirates'
treasure  The boys practically stumbled upon it.”

“But
it was buried treasure nonetheless,” Michael pointed out.  Gaining momentum,
but staying cautious, he continued, “Let's look at what we have.  We've got a
handful of letters and some possible references to
Nauset
Beach
.”

“To
the
Three Sisters
lighthouse—”

“But
maybe it's not the
three sisters
part that your aunt intended you to
focus on.  Maybe it was the
lighthouse
part.  If you think about it, the
clues about Nauset weren't really about
Nauset
Beach
itself, but
about the light tower that was moved from
Chatham
.  Ultimately, it still comes back
to
Chatham
.”

Blinking
widely, Nicole considered this.  “So...you think Nina may have been trying to
lead me to the
Chatham
lighthouse?”

“Well
that's what your whole research project for the parade is about, isn't it?  The
lighthouse and its history?  Maybe she hid something there that she couldn't
come out and say directly.  Maybe where the
North
Tower
used to be, or
something like that?  Hey, it's worth a shot.”  

In
truth, Michael had no idea if the painting was hidden in or around the
lighthouse on
South
Beach
, but he sure as hell couldn't find it in the house. 
And so far, he'd been given no reason to think the Bloomingdale sisters held
the key to where it was hidden.  

Clearly
intrigued, Nicole looked at him with curiosity, even a spark of mischief.  “A
buried treasure...” she mused.  “It just seems—oh my God!  I just remembered
something!”   Abruptly, she hopped up, passing Puddle to Michael.  “Hang on.”

She
disappeared for a couple of minutes. 

When
she returned, she had a slip of paper flying in her hand.  “I forgot all about
this.  Nina's lawyer gave it to me at the reading of the will.”  She handed it
to Michael to read: 

Nicole,
when you girls were little, I told you stories of castles and pirates and
buried treasure.  It wasn’t all make-believe.  It turns out that there are
pirates and there is a treasure—but the treasure is a house.  You'll know what
to do.

 “Treasure,” Michael
repeated, studying the note, “'The treasure
is
a house.'”

Excitedly,
Nicole gripped his shoulder.  “I'd just assumed that Nina meant
this
house here, because of what it's worth—in money and in memories.  But if you
think about how cryptic the other clues are...well, it seems possible that
'house' in this case actually alludes to—”

“
Light
house,”
Michael finished, then glanced up at her.  “Wanna check it out?”

Again,
Nicole hesitated, appearing reluctant.  “I don't know.  I mean...if Nina knew
something was hidden in the lighthouse, why not also underline the passage
about the boys finding the ancient coins?  And what about the letters written
in the margins?  We need to be practical here.”

“Why?”
Michael said, setting Puddle on the floor and rising from his chair.  Now he stood
a good eight or nine inches taller than Nicole.  He was going to have to take
charge without making it too obvious.  “We're talking about buried treasure,
not a Roth IRA.  Toss practical out the window.”

A
laugh slipped out of her; she reached up and hugged him.  Taken a little by
surprise, Michael grabbed onto her, held her tightly.  

“You're
right,” she said, her mouth against his shoulder.  “Let's check it out.” 
Tipping her head up, she welcomed his soft, passionate kiss.  As their mouths
broke apart, a thought occurred to her.  “Oh—but the only thing is, the Coast
Guard station is right next to the lighthouse.  That whole stretch of
South
Beach
is Coast Guard
property now.”

“Shit...that
means it's guarded at all times.”

“Unless...”

“Unless?”

“I think
I know a way.”

It
was a chilly, sunlit morning.  The ocean lapped noisily at the foot of the
beach.  

“Thanks
again, Zack.  I know I just kind of showed up.”  Walking alongside Zack Hyat,
Nicole climbed the stone path that led to the lighthouse.

“Sure,
it's no trouble,” he assured her and spared another glance back at Michael, who
trailed a couple of steps behind. 

Nicole
and Michael had arrived before early that morning.  They’d barely gotten a few
yards across the grounds before two officers emerged from the station and came
toward them.  Officiously, one had asked how he could be of help, while the
other all but blocked their path.  Only after Nicole had smiled sweetly and
mentioned Zack Hyat's name had the officers relaxed their approach.

“I
decided to take you up on your offer for a lighthouse tour,” Nicole had
explained.  As far as Zack knew, Michael was just coming along as a friend.

Now
Zack took the hefty ring of keys off his belt.  Abruptly, a cold wind cut
across Nicole’s cheeks, and sent a violent shiver through her.  Hugging
herself, she stole a glance at Michael.  The keys clanged as Zack set them to
hang in the lock and pushed the door open.  The hinges squealed, followed by
the metallic vibrating thud of the door shutting behind them.  The tower was
dark.  Walled in brick, it held an intrinsically lonely quality.  A coiled iron
staircase stretched up from the cement floor to the sky.  “Let's go to the
top,” Zack said with an affable smile.  “After you.”

Agreeably,
she preceded Zack on the stairs, while Michael deliberately trailed last. 

“Nicole...”