Highway to Homicide

  HIGHWAY TO HOMICIDE

  LUCY QUINN

  SEASIDE STORY PRODUCTIONS

  Copyright © 2018 by Seaside Story Productions

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Lewellen Designs

  Editing by Angie Ramey

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  CONTENTS

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  About the Author

  About This Book

  Cookie James has put her past behind her and is settled in for the long haul on her island with the love of her life… or has she? After a barge blows up just off the coast of Secret Seal Isle, Rain and the Pussycat Posse, who were protesting a new condo construction project, become the prime suspects. Now Rain is being held without bail and Cookie will do anything to prove her innocence, even if it means facing the DeMasi mob and blowing her cover.

  Chapter 1

  Cookie James raised her face up to the sun. Set against the brilliant blue sky, the puffy white clouds resembled a child’s drawing. She smiled with joy that radiated from her heart, because she was finally happy. Happier than she could have imagined she’d be two years ago when the DeMasi mob had forced Cookie and her mother, Rain, to leave everything behind and run for their lives.

  After they’d arrived on Secret Seal Isle, a tiny island off the coast of Maine, and thrown open the doors of an old Victorian house that had formerly been an inn, the musty odor and rickety staircase had made her heart sink. Tears had filled her eyes, too, because running a bed and breakfast was a far cry from her career as an FBI agent. But it was better than whatever fate the DeMasi mob had planned for her, so she’d sucked it up and made do. Then, when she wasn’t looking, somehow the move to Secret Seal Isle had turned out to be the best decision she’d ever made.

  Cookie gazed out over the Atlantic Ocean as she strolled along Main street in a comfortable pair of shorts and a logo t-shirt from her favorite lunch spot, the Salty Dog. Okay, so it was the only lunch spot in town. The diesel engine of a lobster boat chugged while seagulls followed behind it crying out for a meal. She thought of her boyfriend Dylan’s boat and the many adventures they’d had on it.

  Cookie shook her head as she recalled the way she’d found love with the town’s hottest handyman. Sure, they’d had a bumpy road, especially when it came to her former partner, Hunter O’Neil, who’d thrown his hat into the ring for Cookie’s affections. There had also been more than one scare about Cookie’s secret identity and whereabouts getting into the wrong hands, but Dylan Creed had stuck with her through it all. And the way Cookie felt today made her believe he’d be by her side for many more years to come.

  The loud blare of a barge horn made Cookie jump. And her happiness faltered as she remembered why she was walking through town toward the pier. Rain. It was a good thing her mother had become one of the most beloved residents on Secret Seal Isle because trouble followed the woman. It had landed her in hot water several times over the past two years, and Cookie was usually the one who pulled her out.

  Currently Rain was involved with a protest group that was trying to stop a condo development from being built on the quieter side of the island—a condo development no one on the island had known about. It turned out that since there wasn’t a zoning issue, the permits had been issued by the county months ago, and the residents of Secret Seal Isle only learned of the project when the contractors started showing up.

  Rain was convinced the condos would turn into short term rentals and would drastically reduce the number of bookings at the inn. She and her friends, nicknamed the Pussycat Posse, were staging a protest at the end of the pier where a barge full of building supplies was due to dock.

  A small group of people were gathered up ahead of Cookie, blocking her view of her mother and her friends. But based on the number of men wearing jeans in the middle of the summer, Cookie assumed most of them were waiting to unload the barge. Many of the local businesses actually wanted the condos and the volume of business the added population was likely to bring to the island. But there were a few interested in the protest. Like Julie Taylor from the Historical Society.

  Even though the demonstration appeared to be a peaceful, Cookie had that familiar ache in her gut that her FBI career had honed. Or perhaps it was the fact that nothing was ever simple when it came to Rain. Either way, Cookie had a feeling Rain was going to need—Kaboom!

  A loud blast tore through the air, making Cookie’s agent instincts automatically kick in, and she flattened herself on the ground before she realized it wasn’t a gunshot.

  It was an explosion.

  She peered across the gravel-covered pavement toward the ocean to see the barge had been blown to smithereens, and before bits of debris began to fall, Cookie panicked. Rain! She ignored her scraped palms and skinned knees as she scrambled to her feet and raced toward the pier with every ounce of energy she could muster.

  The small group of men had already scattered, and as her feet pounded over the wooden dock, Cookie spotted Rain and her friends strapped at the end with their arms crossed over their heads. A piece of wood clattered near Cookie as she moved, but she didn’t bother to think about her own safety.

  “Mom?” she asked once she reached Rain and her friends. Each member of the Posse was strapped into a harness that had been nailed to the pier with their legs dangling as if they were toddlers in baby swings at the park—just as they had been during the practice version on the inn’s dock back home.

  “Cookie!” Rain cried over her shoulder. “Isn’t the power of protest amazing?”

  An item thudded on the pier between Rain and her best friend, Winter, and Winter twisted and reached down to pick it up. “Would you look at that?” Winter asked as she held up the end of a severed finger without an ounce of revulsion.

  “Nice manicure,” Rain commented as she took the finger from Winter, inspecting it. “Such a lovely shade of pink for the summer.”

  Cookie groaned. Her mother and Winter were entirely too comfortable with dismemberment. Though she had to admit the finger probably was less traumatic than the severed ear that had landed in Winter’s cider over the holidays the year before.

  Hale, Rain’s boyfriend, said, “Looks like Cookie arrived just in time. Now hand over the evidence, dear.”

  Cookie had already reached in her pocket for a pair of evidence gloves and a sealable bag that she’d learned to carry everywhere she went. The nitrile gloves snapped as Cookie donned them. Then she squatted down to retrieve the body part from her mother.

  She gazed out at the ocean where, less than a minute ago, a large barge had been heading toward the dock. All that was left was the carnage resulting from what she assumed had been a substantial amount of
explosives. Flames leaped toward the sky from the wreckage that resembled a junk yard fire. A series of sirens blared in the distance, and Cookie knew it was likely the island’s three volunteer firemen who would be racing to see who could arrive first. Cookie looked at the finger in her hand and shuddered, imagining how many people must have died as she placed the digit in her evidence bag. There wasn’t just the barge, there was the boat that had been pushing it across the harbor as well. Had the finger victim been on the barge or the boat? She had no way of knowing.

  “Isn’t it amazing?” asked a dazed Cari, a local jeweler and the newest member of the Pussycat Posse.

  “It’s horrible.” Winter’s boyfriend Blake visibly shuddered.

  Hale had managed to remove himself from his harness and was assisting Blake as Rain squirmed impatiently for her turn. “Jeez, Cookie,” Rain said. “This sure is a mess. Those poor people.”

  “I’ll say.” Dylan’s deep voice wrapped around Cookie’s heart like a warm blanket as he approached, and his arm draped over her shoulders as he asked, “What can I do?”

  “Help me,” Rain said. She kicked her feet as if she could rise up in the air and out of her harness. “Get me out of this thing!”

  Dylan assisted Rain as Hale and Blake helped Cari and Winter onto the dock.

  “It’s so pretty,” Cari said, staring out at the water and the smoldering carnage.

  Footsteps thudded behind them, and Cookie turned to see the town’s volunteer firefighters jogging toward them. One was carrying a back board, another had fire extinguishers, and the third had a medical kit.

  “She’s in shock,” Blake said, nodding his head to Cari. He reached out and took an offered blanket from one of the new arrivals and wrapped it around Cari before he let the paramedic take over.

  Cookie noticed Winter had become unusually quiet after her initial quip about the severed finger. And when Blake went to her, the heavyset woman with long gray hair gazed up at him with tears in her eyes. “Those people. Who would do such a senseless thing?”

  “I don’t know,” Blake said as he pulled her into a hug.

  Hale gazed at Rain with concern clouding his face, but she wasn’t looking for comfort. She said, “Whoever did this is in for a heap of trouble.” She glanced around at the crowd forming and spoke loudly to them with venom in her voice, “We don’t allow murder on Secret Seal Isle. Do we?”

  When nobody answered, she held a hand to her ear and sang out, “I can’t hear you. Do we allow murder on Secret Seal Isle?”

  “No!” cried out a few residents who’d gathered behind them.

  “That’s more like it,” Rain said. “And we don’t tolerate crime on this island. Do we?”

  The crowd had caught on to Rain’s rhetoric. “No!”

  Rain puffed up her chest with the impact she was having. “My Cookie will get to the bottom of this. Mark my words!” She elbowed Hale and whispered, “Yell hip hip, hurrah.”

  Hale cleared his throat. “Hip hip, hurrah!”

  “Hip hip, hurrah,” the crowd answered.

  When there was silence, Rain hissed to Hale, “Again.”

  “Hip hip, hurrah!” he cried out with more volume than before.

  The crowd answered again with less enthusiasm. Then he did it a third time, which gave even more dismal results, and Rain finally conceded that Hale could stop.

  Another loud siren blared as Dylan let out a humorless chuckle. “This is going to be one heck of an investigation.”

  He was right, but Cookie couldn’t focus on that right now. She’d spotted the only person who could make the current situation worse. Strutting toward them was the town’s deputy sheriff, June Loon, wearing a floral skirt and jacket that resembled the upholstery on a nineteen-eighties easy chair. But there was nothing easy about the short, stocky woman. Her face was bright red, but not from the sun, and Cookie was tempted to grab a fire extinguisher as protection. June was spitting mad, and it didn’t take more than one guess for Cookie to figure out why.

  June Loon was gunning for Rain.

  Chapter 2

  “What in the devil is going on here?” June asked as her two sidekicks, Zeke and Ned, did their best to look official instead of like two gawky teenage boys who weren’t comfortable in their own skin. They were both flushed with unease and avoiding everyone’s eye contact. Cookie couldn’t blame them for being embarrassed. Who wouldn’t be with a woman like June as their boss?

  Seeing as Cookie was often investigating crimes for June in the capacity of appointed deputy, she spoke up, stating the obvious. “A barge, supposedly containing building supplies for the Rocky Shores condominium project, exploded before docking, taking the tugboat with it.”

  Cookie glanced back at the Posse. They were huddled under silver blankets the first responders had given them to counteract shock, and Cookie couldn’t help but think they appeared to be the perfect candidates for a tinfoil hat society. Although, Rain’s laser-beam glare toward June made it clear shock wasn’t her mother’s ailment. Fortunately, the barge had been far enough away so that very few fragments from the explosion had made it to shore. Cookie turned back to June. “At this point, no injuries to bystanders have been reported.”

  “Very well.” June pointed a stocky finger toward Rain and her friends. “What where they doing?”

  “It’s called a peaceful protest,” Rain spat out.

  “Hmpf!” June crossed her arms as she tried to send her own version of laser beams at Rain. “Nothing about you is ever peaceful, Rain Forest.”

  Rain threw her blanket off and started to move forward. Cookie stepped in front of her mother before the situation could escalate to something physical. “Rain, along with her friends Winter, Cari, Hale, and Blake were strapped to the pier in what was definitely a peaceful protest.”

  June walked over to the edge of the dock to peer down at the harnesses still nailed to the edge. She asked, “They were in these things?”

  “Yes,” Cookie said.

  “They could have been squashed—" June lifted her hand and slowly closed her index finger and thumb together as malice burned in her eyes. “—like little bugs if the barge had docked.”

  “What?” Rain tried to dart around Cookie, but thankfully, Blake and Hale grabbed her by the arms while Winter put her hand over her Rain’s mouth in an effort to contain the woman. At least the Posse had learned something from their past interactions with the law and were doing their best to keep her mother from an assault charge.

  “Yes,” Cookie said, her voice strained. “I suppose they could have.” Her patience with June was wearing thin.

  June tilted her chin up and straightened as if it could make her taller. “They were obstructing a legitimate delivery. For all we know this pathetic display was supposed to be their alibi in regard to the explosion.” She looked at Ned. “I’m sure there’s a crime here.” June looked up at her towering assistant, Zeke. “I want them taken in for questioning.” He nodded at her, and she shouted, “Now!”

  Zeke and Ned scrambled over to the Posse as Dylan and Cookie exchanged glances. Unfortunately, June did have a right to bring her mother and friends in for questioning, considering they were very public about their objection to the condo project.

  Winter, apparently unconcerned, clapped her hands like a child and gushed, “It’s always a successful protest when you end up in jail.”

  Cookie heard the thud of Ned’s handcuffs falling on the dock and sighed. Were any of the other law enforcement officers on the island competent? She reached down, grabbed the handcuffs, and handed them to Ned, worried her mother was going to become uncooperative like she had last time June Loon had her hauled in for questioning.

  “At least they didn’t bring the shackles for Rain,” Dylan said, leaning toward Cookie, no doubt recalling the way Rain had put Ned out of commission a few months back with a roundhouse kick that defied the laws of age and gravity.

  Cookie looked at her mother. “Please, Mom. Be cooperative.�
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  Rain rolled her eyes as she stuck out her hands for Zeke. “Your generation has no concept of protesting.”

  “Mother.”

  “Fine.” Rain let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll be good.” She batted her eyes at Zeke. “While this officer of the law manhandles me.” She winked at him. “Watch the hands, big boy.”

  Cookie resisted the urge to groan over her mother’s flirting and looked at the rest of the Posse. “I’m counting on all of you to keep her in line.”

  “We’re on it, Cookie,” Winter said. She squinted at Ned, who’d produced zip ties and was struggling to attach one to her wrists. “I have the perfect tea for that nervous shake of yours. You should really stop by The Tea Tripper some time.”

  As Zeke and Ned led the Pussycat Posse away, June blew out a long breath and addressed Cookie. “Questioning those five is going to take time. And…” June paused. She glanced around at the small crowd that had gathered to see what was going on. She shook her head a little before continuing in a loud voice. “I’m going to up to my ears in the press coverage of this.” June gazed up into the sun with wide eyes, and when she looked back at Cookie, they were glassy. June sniffed dramatically and scrunched up her face like she’d smelled something bad. Or maybe she had a stomach ache. “This is a major tragedy that has come to our peaceful little island.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and dabbed at the corners. “Now that I have the danger contained, I suppose you should get to the bottom of this, Cookie.”

  Cookie frowned in confusion before she realized that June was trying to appear as if she was crying, apparently practicing her dramatic role as the compassionate deputy sheriff of Secret Seal Isle for the cameras. Just as Cookie had for every other crime that had plagued the island since June had arrived, she answered, “Yes. Of course,” knowing it was the only way the victims would get justice.

  June reached out and touched Cookie’s arm tentatively before she flinched away. “Wonderful.” She wiped her hand on her skirt as though the brief contact with Cookie had made her fingers dirty. The she turned and walked away.