Maritime Caper (Coastal Fury Book 12) - Matt Lincoln (have you read this book TXT) 📗

“Really?” Tessa asked, her eyes nearly bugging out of her face as she pawed at my wrist to see my watch for herself. “I didn’t even think to look at the clock in all that time, I guess.”

I felt my stomach grumble and realized that I was starving.

“What would you say about a late lunch early dinner kind of situation?” I asked her, thinking that there was no way I was going to be able to wait until dinner after all that shooting and everything.

“I think I could get on board with that,” Tessa grinned. “Though you’ll have to promise there won’t be anyone opening fire on us this time.”

I groaned as I remembered, yet again, the last time that I had dragged Tessa into one of my messes, and we’d been attacked on a date at a restaurant in New York.

“You really need to stop hanging out with me,” I told her, only half-joking. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I knew what I was getting into,” she quipped, winking at me as she took a step up the stairs. “I’m going to freshen up. Meet you back here in fifteen?”

“Agreed,” I said, watching her wistfully as she disappeared up the stairs and to our room. I really was worried that I was going to get her killed one of these days, but she kept insisting on coming along with me. And it wasn’t like I could argue with her. That was a losing battle, I knew.

Paulina reappeared before I had a chance to decide what I was going to do with these fifteen minutes.

“Oh, Ethan, I heard that you were a real hero this afternoon!” she cried when she reached the bottom of the stairwell.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, ma’am,” I mumbled, feeling a tinge of heat rush to my cheeks. “Just doing my job.”

“Don’t be so modest,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “Who knows what poor Martha would’ve done if you weren’t there to help her today?”

I kept it to myself that I wasn’t so sure that I wasn’t the whole reason these people had started bothering the poor museum manager in the first place. After all, what were the odds that someone else was after the Dragon’s Rogue at the same time I was and that they discovered this place at the same time I did? It was possible, I supposed, though unlikely.

No, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all somehow my fault.

“Wait, Paulina?” I asked as the old bed-and-breakfast owner was headed back toward the kitchen where we had eaten breakfast. “I meant to ask you something if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, anything for you, dear, anything for you,” Paulina said, halting in her tracks and smiling up at me.

“Well, Officers Collins and Bauer…” I began, but she cut me off.

“Oh, such nice boys, I’ve known them since they were this tall!” the old woman gushed, holding a hand out at her waist to illustrate.

“Yes, they seemed very nice,” I agreed with a smile. “But anyway, they told me about this old Hawthorne house out on the bay, and how someone bought it a while back? I was wondering if you knew anything about that. Are the new owners renting it out? The officers thought that you might know.”

“Such a strange thing, isn’t it?” Paulina said knowingly, shaking her head. “I just don’t understand it.”

“Don’t understand what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her in confusion.

“Why anyone would buy that old house, of course!” she cried as if this should be obvious to me, someone who had never been to Newport News in my life before yesterday. “It was old, so old that they should’ve just torn it down ages ago! Would’ve, if it wasn’t for all the ghosts.”

“You believe those old stories?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at her. “I got the impression that it was just kids playing around.”

“Oh, don’t mess with any ghosts, young man,” she said, giving me the stern, pointed look of a concerned mother. “You never know what’s out there. That’s what I like to say.”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” I chuckled, thinking of Holm’s and my strange mission to Haiti once more. “But anyway, do you know who bought it? Or if they’re renting it out? It could help with my case.”

“Really? You think that has something to do with all this business with the museum?” Paulina asked, her eyes widening, and I remembered that I was speaking with the town's busy body.

“Um, yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “I mean, it might. It’s just a hunch. They could have no relation to one another, for all I know, so please keep this between us for now.”

“Oh, of course,” the old woman said, looking happy enough to do this. I figured that as much as she wanted to blab to everyone she knew, she was even more flattered to be in the confidence of a federal agent.

“So, do you know anything about the people who bought the house?” I asked again.

“No, I don’t,” Paulina admitted, biting her thin lower lip. “And if they were renting, I’d know it, that’s for sure. I do know the Carltons, who live just across the bay. They’ve been complaining about some strange stuff going on there for a while.”

“Strange things?” I asked, raising my eyebrows and taking a step closer to her at this line. “What kind of strange things?”

“Oh, all kinds of things,” Paulina said, seeming to be invigorated by my interest in this tidbit of gossip. “Construction going on at all hours of the night. At night! For months on end. And strange men walking around the property at night. All kinds of stuff. The Carlton’s son is convinced they’re all ghosts, walking about! Can you imagine that?”

“No, no, I can’t,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Do you think that these Carltons will have a chat with me?”

“Sure, sure,” Paulina said, nodding. “They’re usually home in the evenings. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you