Chapter Three
Dan slipped his feet into his sneakers as he zipped his jeans. Someone was definitely moving about. He grabbed a sweatshirt and zipped it up.
Slipping quietly out of the room, he headed downstairs, gently testing floorboards before he stepped. He didn’t want to wake anyone else.
A light through the big windows of the dining room caught his attention. Who was raiding the kitchen at four am?
He cracked the swinging door and stared. Standing over a counter with her eyes on a cookbook was Nola, the explosive chef.
But his eyes were on her.
Nola’s hair was pinned up neatly, and her face was concentrated on what she was reading. Her hair had a more orange cast than brown, he noted, and she wore loose fitting black pants and a black t-shirt. Lovely neck, he noted. Lovely shape all together. Tall, curvy, but well toned. He wondered what sort of workout she had and if she’d be interested in a different sort of workout with him.
Without warning, her head shot up, eyes narrowed.
“Who’s there?” she demanded. “Willis, if you’re skulking around I’ll bash your head in with?you’re not Willis.”
“Mm, no,” Dan smiled as he stepped into the gleaming kitchen. “So I’ll thank you kindly not to bash my head in with anything.”
She said rudely, “You should be asleep.”
“Sleep is overrated,” he shrugged. “I was hoping to find a cup of coffee.”
She glacned over at the coffeemaker witht hred light indicating it was on.
“Kind of early isn’t it?” he asked.
“I have to have breakfast prepped and ready by seven am,” she answered tensely. “Plus prep and have ready the lunch menu, and map out tonight’s dinner specials.”
“When do you sleep?” he asked, pulling out a stool at the counter she was working on.
“Sleep is overrated,” she smirked.
Dan found himself smiling at her crankiness.
“I leave after breakfast. That’s why lunch is usually salads, and sandwiches and soup. The servers can prepare it themselves without burning the place down. I come back at four to start dinner.”
“Must keep you busy.”
“Got to make a living,” she turned to a cabinet and pulled out two large blue mugs. “Coffee black?”
“Yes, please” Dan answered, surprised at her guess. She was colder today than yesterday. Maybe she was feeling uncomfortable since had told her wanted to take her out to dinner.
“You don’t seem like a man with frills,” she answered dryly, pouring the dark liquid and handing it to Dan.
“Good observation,” he smiled. “I’m pretty straightforward about most things.”
“So, what really brings you into my kitchen? No one dares enter while I’m working,” a smile was forming on her pretty lips. “By the way, sorry about the other day I had no idea you and your friends were standing there when Willis and I got into it. I should have apologized right then and didn’t.”
“It was kind of amusing, actually,” his dark eyes twinkled at her. She was adding sugar and cream to her coffee. He noted the long, slender fingers, no rings, and wondered what sort of touch she would have on him.
“Willis just infuriates me. He had the balls to say he didn’t tamper with my sauce when he’s the only one that could have or would have and after already being on edge all day, I just blew my top.”
“Long day?” he asked. Why had she been on edge?
“I knew Miss Trask had special guests arriving so I was trying to make sure that dinner would be perfect, and the meringue didn’t set right earlier so I was just—grumpy,” she treated him to a dazzling smile to contradict her words.
Dan caught his breath at the wattage behind the smile, and held out his hand. “I can assure you dinner was superb. By the way uh, I’m Dan Mangan.”
“I know. You always ask women out before you introduce yourself properly?”
Dan grinned. “Depends on the woman.”
She tried not to smile but couldn’t, and reached over to shake his hand.
“Marge probably told you, but I’m Finola Gabriel. Everyone calls me Nola, or She-Bitch.” She shook his hand firmly.
Dan’s dark eyes bugged.
“Yes, I know about the name. I earned it,” she said darkly.
“Your uncle was a bit uh…”
“Fussy? Grumpy? Cantankerous? Yes, family traits,” she said dryly, before taking a sip of coffee. “His brother, my father, married a hot tempered Irish girl. Got me as a result.”
“I don’t think they did too badly,” he said with a smile.
Nola burst out laughing. “You’re a smooth one, aren’t you?”
Dan shrugged but kept smiling.
“So you and your buddies travel in packs?” she asked casually.
“Sometimes. We’ve all been friends for years. The girls you saw are my business partners.”
“What kind of business?” she asked, reaching for a container.
“Private Investigators. I’m one-third partner in the Bob-White Detective Agency.”
Something flickered in her eyes but only for an instant. “Sounds like an interesting career,” she said neutrally.
He caught the change in her attitude and tone. Not so subtle, he thought. What could she possibly be hiding that would make her nervous? The slight tensing of her shoulders didn’t escape him either.
“It can be. Sometimes it’s fun. Sometimes it’s pretty heinous.”
“Think you guys will be able to find it?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“I don’t know. We’re awfully good at finding things.” he answered, noting she measured nothing as she added ingredients into a large yellow bowl. “You interested in it?”
“Sure,” she shrugged. “People are fascinated. Local legends are big business, as you can see by our full dining room, and it brings out all the crazies. And everyone knows, thanks to Mad Maria and her big mouth.”
“Do tell,” Dan said, sipping his coffee. Since he knew she was resentful towards Maria, it would be helpful to determine the animosity source.
“Well, you know how Marge found the map, I’m sure.” Dan nodded. “She wasn’t sure how authentic it was but she told me and Willis. Mad Maria was lurking outside for some reason and overheard. That night there was a food critic in the dining room, and she got chatty. Too chatty. The review of my Flaming Tongue got bypassed,” she said bitterly as she stirred the contents of the bowl, “and that stupid twit’s loose tongue is bringing in every treasure hunter in the country.”
“Do you believe the legend?” he asked.
Nola shrugged. “I don’t have time to chase down two hundred year old treasure fantasies.” She sprinkled flour on to the clean marble counter, then dumped the dough out. Picking up a large wooden rolling pin, she began to roll it, occasionally glancing up at Dan as she rolled. “Granted, it gave us a nice boost in guests, and in fact, we should have a full house day after next, but Marge wasn’t happy about that treasure map leaking out. It tends to bring out some freaky people who’ve seen too many movies. People come out here for the peace, for the illusion and lore, but having a bunch of crazy treasure hunters swarming the place? Not good.”
Dan couldn’t help but smile, noting how smoothly she was moving as she talked. Trained professional indeed. Very short nails, no polish. Pretty hands. Skilled. Again, his mind wandered to what the hands could and would do on his body.
“If you had the chance, would you go looking?” he asked, trying to focus. Another shrug.
“Digging around in caves isn’t my idea of fun. Especially when there’s pastry to be made and eaten,” she smiled up at him and he realized how pale blue her eyes were, yet their intensity seemed to shoot right through him.
“I must agree,” he smiled back.
There was a chime from behind her and she reached under the counter for a baking sheet.
“I hate to cut this short but I do have a lot to do,” she said apologetically.
“No problem,” he stood up. “Thanks for the coffee. I’m looking forward to those biscuits.”
His reward was another dazzling smile as he left the kitchen.
Nola Gabriel was a wealth of information, he thought, as he walked outside, breathing in the crisp morning air. He found himself wandering towards the cliff side where the galleon ship would appear after dark.
***
Dan wasn’t disappointed when he joined the others for breakfast. The biscuits practically melted in his mouth, and he skipped the slathering of jelly Trixie went for.
“I think I could eat these all day,” Honey said, reaching for a second one.
Brian’s answer was mumbled through biscuit but he was nodding his affirmation.
“I wonder if she makes her own chocolate?” Trixie snickered, eyes twinkling.
“She does. And admittedly, it’s fabulous,” the Weasel appeared, looking morose. “Gaston taught her well, unfortunately.”
“Did Gaston ever throw things at you, Willis?” Honey asked.
“Oh sure. The night I dropped that cake? I was amazed he didn’t throw every knife in the kitchen at me.”
A ruckus at the next table interrupted their conversation.
“I tell you, I demand to see the chef!”
“The chef doesn’t meet with customers, sir! Please, sit down—” Mad Maria was pleading with the man who had spoken. Instead, he rose, tall and gangly with thinning hair, his face red. Dan recognized him as Johnny Dentan, the rude young man from yesterday.
“You get him out here before I call my lawyer!” he shouted.
The heavy wooden door swung open and Nola strolled out as Marge Trask hurried in. The other patrons were turning to look.
Dan noted Nola had on a clean white chef jacket and her hair was mostly still pinned up.
“I’m the chef, sir and I’ll ask you to keep your voice down so as not to disturb other patrons,” she said coldly.
Dan studied the tension in her body. The pale blue eyes had gone silvery blue, he noted, and cold as ice.
“You stole this recipe! This is my grandmother’s recipe! I’d recognized them anywhere! I don’t know how you-”
“Why don’t we go outside.” It wasn’t a request. “There’s no need to cause a scene—”
“Cause a scene? You bet your pretty butt I’ll cause a scene!” he shouted. “This is thievery!”
“Sir, please—” Miss Trask was flushed with embarrassment.
Dan glanced at Brian and they stood up.
“Sir, we’d be more than happy to escort you outside to discuss this calmly,” Dan said firmly.
Dentan finally acquiesced, and he, Miss Trask, Nola left the dining room. Miss Trask motioned for the boys to stay put, after a hurried thank-you.
Brian sat back down but Dan excused himself and headed outside.
He followed them to Miss Trask’s office.
“I tell you that’s a stolen recipe!” the guest was still going.
“Look, sir, I don’t know a thing about your grandmother. My uncle taught me the recipe that he developed in France, after studying at the Cordon Bleu, where I studied as well. Was your grandmother ever in France?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he shouted.
Nola closed her eyes and counted to ten. She wanted to deck this man.
“You need to realize that ninety eight percent of biscuit recipes are the same or so similar there is no verifiable difference by taste. You can have her call me if you want. And even if it is the same recipe, unless she copyrighted it, you have no legal foot to stand on,” Nola told him.
Dan listened to the argument for a few more minutes and then the angry guest stormed out, blowing past him and heading upstairs. He could hear Miss Trask soothing Nola.
“Everything all right?” Dan poked his head around the doorframe.
“Just some idiot accusing my family of being thieves,” Nola snapped. “I told him the truth: many recipes are the same, especially for something like biscuits!”
“It’s just one more negative round of publicity we’re going to get,” Miss Trask sighed. Dan took a good look at her. For the first time since he had met her, Miss Trask looked tired and…old. Her gray hair was still neatly trimmed, and her sensible tweed suits and oxfords hadn’t changed, but her eyes had. She looked haunted, and tired. Her brother’s death had been harder than the Bob-Whites had realized.
“Marge, I’m sorry about this. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with him, but I couldn’t help it,” Nola apologized and Dan sensed it was genuine.
“It’s all right, dear,” Marge answered, rubbing her temple. “He was out of line.”
“I better get back to the kitchen before the Weasel screws something up,” she said, softly. Miss Trask nodded. Dan stayed after Nola left.
“Miss Trask, there’s more bothering you than you’re letting on, isn’t there?” he asked.
She smiled tiredly at him. “You always were the sharpest observer, Dan.”
“Want to tell me? You don’t have to,” he added.
Marge leaned back in the big chair behind the desk. “Remember your last visit out here, when my brother paid off that loan he made, from Nicholas Morgan?”
“Of course,” Dan leaned against the desk. “He’s the one that kidnapped your brother when we were here before.”
“Well, the Inn became a fair success after that, until about three years ago. Nicholas’ brother became county commissioner, and he raised the property taxes. Through a bunch of legalities, he basically raised it so high that Frank barely made the payment the first year. Then business started dropping off. At first Frank thought it was just a seasonal thing, especially because pirates have become so popular nowadays, with the movies and everything. Then he realized that the website he had set up was filled with negative comments. Various agencies that the Inn is listed on for tourism, all started getting reports about how awful it was here. Roaches, bad food, rip off tour, etcetera.”
Dan nodded. This definitely sounded ominous. There was no doubt as to why Theodore Morgan had raised the property taxes. Revenge, simple enough, for his brother’s jail time. It would have had taken him quite a while to gain the trust of the county, to run for commissioner. No doubt greasing some palms too, Dan figured. Fifteen years or so was probably long enough.
“It reached a point where the guest flow practically stopped. Rather than give in and lose the place, Frank borrowed money from the bank. He finally called me a couple months ago and told me all this. He felt I needed to know because his heart was bad, and he wasn’t sure how long he had to live. He told me he had a plan to get the money he needed. He didn’t tell me the specifics of the plan, but I expect it had to do with that map. I think he was planning on trying to find the Captain’s treasure.”
“If it’s in typical pirate booty of gold and jewels, it would be a small fortune,” Dan said. Miss Trask nodded.
“If it even exists,” she sighed. “The Captain was something of a prankster. It could be one big hoax. But if I don’t get the money together in the next two weeks, I’ll lose the whole place.”
Dan reached over and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “We’ll do everything we can to prevent that Miss Trask.”
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Captain Trask's Treasure Map Additional Cast
Author’s Notes
-A huge thank you to Julie, my editor, who polished this baby up and gave me the title!
-Word Count, 2,576
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