Dead in the Water (Scarlet Cove Seaside Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 2

  “We’re an old family,” Nancy exclaimed proudly, her red-tinted lips beaming from ear to ear. “There’s been a Turtle in Scarlet Cove for as long as anyone can remember.”

  “I’m Elizabeth,” she replied. “Elizabeth Jones. Not as exciting, but everyone calls me Liz.”

  Nancy heartily shook Liz’s hand again. She would have guessed the woman with the funny name was in her early thirties. She had impossibly thick brown hair with a full fringe that seemed a little too short for her pretty, round face. Thick glasses framed her hazel eyes, magnifying them to double their original size. She was short and curvy, which made Liz feel like a lanky basketball player in comparison.

  “We’re all very excited about a new shop opening in Scarlet Cove! It’s not very often we get new things here.” Nancy adjusted her glasses before leaning in. “What’s to become of the old sweet shop? I tried to ask Bob, but he kept it all very hush hush.”

  “I’m opening an arts and crafts shop,” Liz said, unsure of what sort of reaction her admission was going to provoke. “I thought a pretty seaside fishing town like this would have more than a few creative people.”

  “I love art!” Nancy cried, clapping her hands together. “But between you and me, I’m not very good at it. I work at the gallery though, so I get to surround myself with paintings every day. I couldn’t ask for a better job.”

  “I really am sorry,” Liz said again, eager to get on with her work. “I’ll watch where I’m going next time.”

  Nancy waved a dismissive hand and said, “It’s fine! Gives me a break from being bossed around at the gallery. I work for the dragon lady, but if anyone asks, I’ll deny saying that. Let me help you gather your things. I’m half responsible, after all.”

  Before Liz could refuse, Nancy bobbed down and started to gather up the contents of her bathroom cabinet. She peered over her glasses at a couple of the bottles, and even though they were the cheapest Liz had found at a skincare shop, Nancy did not seem to judge, despite her soft and radiant complexion showing that Nancy cared a little more about that stuff than Liz did.

  “Let me give you a tour of Scarlet Cove tomorrow,” Nancy offered as she picked up a bottle of painkillers and dropped it into the box. “It’s the least I can do. You won’t know your way around yet, and everyone is dying to meet you.”

  Liz tried to think of a way to refuse without hurting the feelings of the nice woman who loved art but could not paint. She thought back to her anonymous life in the city, reminded once again how different Scarlet Cove was. If she had bumped into someone back in Manchester, they would not have been so quick to help gather her things.

  “I think I’ll be okay,” Liz said as she picked up the full box. “I’m used to –”

  “How about lunchtime?” Nancy jumped in with a smile as she adjusted her glasses. “I’m not working tomorrow.”

  Liz forced herself to nod. She had not expected to make friends in her first hour in town, but from the pleased look on Nancy’s face, Liz knew she had picked a good person to bump into.

  “You’ve been lucky to arrive on market day,” Nancy said, appearing eager to continue the conversation. “See the guy with brown hair? That’s my boyfriend, Jack, and that’s Simon standing next to him.” Liz followed Nancy’s finger to the paved market square, which was filled with white-roofed stalls. “Jack helps Simon out with his food stall when he can.”

  “I should really get on with unpacking,” Liz said with an awkward smile as she looked down at her box. “Lots to do.”

  “Me too. Well, not with the unpacking, but – you know what I mean. Busy, busy! You should try Simon’s ice cream. It’s the pride of Scarlet Cove.”

  Just like her landlord, Nancy hugged Liz, wrapping her arms awkwardly around the large box. Liz stared into the distance and wondered if every person she would come into contact with was going to be so tactile.

  With a promise to see Liz tomorrow, Nancy scurried off through the market, no doubt heading back towards the gallery, the location of which Liz would discover tomorrow. Learning of the gallery’s existence soothed Liz. It was nice to know she had moved somewhere that appreciated art, and it would not hurt her shop having fellow artists in the small fishing town.

  After taking the final box up to her flat, she headed back to the street and locked the door. She had not intended doing anything other than unpacking and starting on a bottle of wine, but the mention of ice cream had piqued her interest. She crossed the road and headed straight for the stall Nancy had pointed out. The men, one with brown hair, and one with dirty blond, greeted her with warm smiles. She was glad when neither of them tried to hug her.

  “You must be the newbie,” Simon said with an intrigued smile, his bulky muscular frame being the first to not make Liz feel freakishly tall since arriving. “Welcome to Scarlet Cove!”

  “How does everyone know about me already?” Liz replied with a curious laugh. “I thought I was slipping in quietly.”

  “It’s a small town,” Simon said. “Word travels fast ‘round here. We haven’t had anyone new arrive in a while, so you’ve been quite the conversation piece since ol’ Bob Slinger spilled the beans about someone finally agreeing to rent his shop and flat.”

  “I have?”

  “You’ll love it here,” Jack, Nancy’s boyfriend, said. “Best place on Earth. What can we do for you?”

  Liz looked down at the small stall. It was modest but had a large variety of different flavoured ice creams to choose from, along with more types of cheese than Liz knew existed.

  “I’m not the biggest ice cream eater,” Liz said as she tapped her hand on her chin. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood for eating a block of cheese though.”

  The two men chuckled, and even though she thought they were laughing at her at first, she realised there was no judgement in their voices.

  “People ‘round here love the vanilla,” Simon offered. “It’s my favourite too.”

  “You’ve sold me,” Liz said with a nod. “Vanilla it is.”

  Liz stepped back as Simon scooped a generous amount of the ice cream into a cone.

  “First one is on the house,” Simon said as he handed Liz the ice cream. “Just don’t expect special treatment every time. Word might get ‘round that I’m giving away freebies.”

  Liz accepted the ice cream and smiled her thanks at the kind man. She took his appearance in properly. He had big brown eyes, tousled dirty blond hair, which was coupled with a light dusting of stubble across his cheeks and jaw. He had a soft smile, bright white teeth, and dimples on either side of his dark red lips. Liz could not deny the ice cream seller was handsome, even if he was a similar age to Nancy.

  Liz licked the ice cream, the rich and creamy flavour catching her by surprise. Simon leaned back and crossed his arms, appearing more than a little pleased with his handiwork.

  “This is really good,” Liz said. “Really, really good.”

  “Did you expect any less?” he asked, his brows tensing a little. “I make everything myself up on the family farm. From cow to cone, it’s all me.”

  “That’s impressive,” Liz said after taking another lick. “You might have changed my mind about ice cream.”

  “Here,” Simon said, reaching into his front jeans pocket to pull out a white napkin. “You’ve got some –”

  Simon wiped Liz’s chin where she must have dribbled the melting ice cream. A fleeting moment of eye contact caused an unexpected reaction in Liz’s stomach. She did not need a mirror to know she was blushing.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled. “I’d better make my way back. Lots to do.”

  With her ice cream in hand, she rushed back to her flat before they could say anything more. She could not quite place her finger on why she felt so embarrassed, but she did. When she reached her flat, she turned back and looked at the stall. Jack nudged Simon, both men grinning like Cheshire cats. Simon met her eyes and gave her a little wave, but she quickly turned to her door, feeling unable to return it. After
fumbling with her keys, she unlocked the door and slipped inside. Back in the safety of her flat, she looked down at the ice cream with a smile.

  “Too young for you,” she whispered to herself as she set off up the stairs to wait for the arrival of her flat pack furniture.

  2

  Liz woke the next morning in her new bed, in her new bedroom, with her new bedding. Despite the creak in her lower back that had not been there the previous night, she felt like a brand new woman.

  She cast an eye over to the box of clothes she had yet to unpack. Her black detective’s hat from the Greater Manchester Police force poked out from the mass of the clothes. It was the only reminder she had brought with her from her old job. She wanted to forget she had ever worn the hat during the job that had taken Lewis away from her, and yet she could not bring herself to part with it.

  Her phone vibrated on her bedside table, ripping her from her memory. She smiled when she saw Miles’ name flashing on the screen.

  “You promised you would call yesterday,” he said playfully as soon as she accepted the call. “I thought the local cult might have got to you already.”

  “I’ve been busy,” she replied, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “So, how is it?” he asked, slurping what Liz presumed was his morning coffee. “Is it as dull as I predicted? Replaced me already?”

  “Of course I have,” she mumbled as she dragged herself out of bed. “I almost forgot who you were when I saw your name flashing on the screen. Miles who?”

  “Very funny,” he snapped back. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Is it totally pathetic that I miss you already?”

  “Yes,” she replied bluntly. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a new life to be getting on with.”

  With a promise to call back when she had something interesting to talk about, she hung up, comforted by the familiar voice.

  After having wandered to the small shop on the corner of the street that sold everything she needed to make tea and toast, she quickly prepared her breakfast and sat on her new sofa, which was still wrapped in plastic. She ate her slightly burnt toast and sipped her milky tea, staring at the blank cream wall. She mentally flicked through her collection of paintings, trying to figure out which of her pieces would look best above the small fireplace. She decided she was going to paint something brand new to symbolise her fresh start. After all, Liz in Manchester had been a coffee drinker, but Liz in Scarlet Cove had inexplicably bought tea.

  She spent the rest of the morning anticipating Nancy Turtle’s arrival. She did not doubt her new acquaintance would turn up exactly at noon to give her the guided tour she had insisted Liz take. Even though she had been resistant to it at first, she had come to realise it would be nice to know where everything was, especially considering she had picked the place based on a picture she had fallen in love with. Just like a beautiful portrait she could paint of a not so attractive person, she knew a picture could be very deceiving.

  “So, what do you think?” Nancy asked as they left Driftwood Café after filling up on locally made Cornish pasties. “Not bad for a little café, huh?”

  “It was delicious,” Liz said as she fiddled with her watch. “I really do have a lot to do. I didn’t realise how long it would take to unpack. I thought I’d travelled light.”

  “There’s so much more to see,” Nancy insisted, looping her arm through Liz’s “I won’t take no for an answer. You’ll end up like ol’ Mary, who hasn’t left her house for three decades if you don’t get out and about now.”

  “An hour,” Liz said, unsure of what to do with the arm Nancy was clinging to. “But that’s all.”

  Nancy squealed like a little girl before setting off, practically dragging Liz along. They walked through town with Nancy pointing out the shops and buildings, giving Liz brief descriptions of everything. She knew so much about everyone and everything, it was obvious she had been born and bred in Scarlet Cove.

  “That’s the Fish and Anchor, the best pub in Scarlet Cove,” Nancy said, pointing but not stopping to let Liz soak it in. “There are a couple of others, but that’s the one all the locals go to. The landlady, Shirley Williams, is firm, but lovely. She’s been working there since I was born, I think. Ingrained into the fabric of the place. She has a part-time barmaid, Mandy. Not many people think they’re too good for Scarlet Cove, but Mandy does. You might want to avoid being served by her.”

  As the tour continued, they made their way down to the seafront, and to the reason Liz had fallen in love with Scarlet Cove. It was another beautiful day, and the soft whistling of the waves relaxed her in seconds. A slight breeze brought in the scent of fish, something she had never experienced in Manchester unless she had been standing next to the fish stall at one of the markets. Liz leaned against the sea wall and looked out over the water’s surface. It stretched out for as far as the eye could see, shining brilliantly under the sun. Fishing boats bobbed up and down, looking like they would fall off the edge of the world if they drifted too far towards the horizon. She looked along the jagged coast, her eyes landing on a tall, white lighthouse. It sat atop a lump of rock, which looked like it was seconds away from crumbling under the pressure of the thrashing waves.

  “My dad works there,” Nancy said when she caught Liz’s gaze. “Tim Turtle. He’s been the maintenance guy there –”

  “Since you were born?”

  “How did you know?” Nancy exclaimed with a grin. “Are you psychic?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  Liz turned and stared up at the town, which had been built on a steep slope. The buildings of all colours looked like they might topple over if the wind hit them right. She shielded her eyes and stared at a castle, which appeared to be the highest point in town.

  “That’s Scarlet Cove Castle,” Nancy said. “There’s been spooky stories surrounding it for as long as I can remember. People say that this place was called something completely different centuries ago, but because of the things that happened up there, they changed the name to Scarlet Cove.”

  “Why Scarlet Cove?”

  “They say the walls were always covered in so much blood that it dripped into the sea.” Nancy looked like she was enjoying telling Liz this story. “Creepy, right? People say the medieval ghosts still haunt the grounds. I’m sure I saw a headless woman up there, but Jack thinks I was just drunk.”

  “Were you drunk?”

  “I’d had a drink,” Nancy admitted. “But the woman definitely didn’t have a head. You don’t want to go up there at night, that’s all I’m saying.”

  Liz could barely control her laughter, but from the serious expression on Nancy’s face, she knew she had to. She had always thought stories of the supernatural were a little far-fetched, and usually the result of decades of local paranoia. If her years in the police force had taught her anything, it was that most things could be explained with a little detective work and some logic.

  They continued to walk along the seafront, Nancy pointing out the variety of different shops and B&Bs, but Liz was not taking them in. Her eyes were firmly planted on the calming waves. When they reached the harbour, Liz focussed once again. She recognised it from the picture on the front of the book, but it looked a lot smaller in real life. Old and tired looking boats bobbed up and down, tied to poles sticking out at regular intervals across a wooden walkway. They headed down the walkway to a small office at the end. A man in a sharp suit was standing in front of the office door, his hands planted on his hips as he stared out to sea. He was of average height, and not one of his strikingly icy blond slicked back hairs was out of place. He had a golden tan, and his suit looked expertly tailored to the contours of his body. Everything about the man’s appearance told Liz he was probably wealthy.

  Nancy cleared her throat, prompting the man to face them. He flashed a dazzling smile, and even though his teeth were perfectly straight and porcelain white, he seemed to have too many for his mouth. Liz had never thought she had a type, but sh
e knew this man was not it, despite being classically handsome.

  “Nancy, what a lovely surprise,” he said, his perfect diction sticking out amongst the more casual accents Liz had heard. “What brings you here?”

  “Christopher, this is Liz,” Nancy said, pushing Liz forward. “She’s new in town.”

  Feeling like a prize pig at the meat market, Liz stood awkwardly in front of Christopher and smiled. He took her hand and kissed it, his crystal blue eyes not wavering from hers.

  “Liz must be short for Elizabeth,” he said softly. “A very beautiful, classic name, I must say. It is a pleasure to put a face to the mysterious new resident I’ve been hearing so much about. Do you like fish?”

  “I suppose,” Liz said, discreetly wiping her hand on the back of her jeans. “I haven’t really given it much thought. I’m not much of a cook.”

  “Chris delivers to The Sea Platter,” Nancy said. “Best restaurant in town.”

  “It’s Christopher,” he corrected her with a strained smile. “And yes, I deliver my fish there. I run this harbour, you see, and The Sea Platter is one of the many restaurants I deliver to. You must visit sometime.”

  Liz did not know what to say, so she smiled and nodded. Something about the way the man spoke put her on edge. It reminded her of the way guilty people would talk in interviews when they thought they could lie their way through questioning. Reminding herself she had left that life behind, she tried to force herself to relax. She smiled a little easier at the harbour owner, but an incoming boat caught his attention, ending their brief conversation.

  “Would you excuse me,” he said, resting a hand on Liz’s shoulder. “I have business to attend to. It was very nice meeting you, Elizabeth. I hope we get a chance to talk again.” He kissed her hand again before turning to Nancy. “Bye,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

  Compared to the other townsfolk she had met so far, Christopher stuck out in every way.