Lemon Curd & Murder Read online

  “Mrs. Sanders, do you know a Treasure Tom in town?” asked Heather.

  “Oh, that crazy fellow. He was a little too enthusiastic about the treasure,” said Donna. “I never quite trusted him.”

  “And that’s why you selected Professor Wattleson to come in for the celebration and analyze the treasure again?” Heather asked.

  “That’s right,” said Donna. “He came very highly recommended.”

  “Do you know if anyone in town knew him before he arrived?” asked Heather.

  “I don’t think so. He mentioned that he had never been to Key West before, but he didn’t seem as excited about the trip as most people do.”

  “Mrs. Sanders, do you know anyone who would want to hurt the professor?”

  “No,” Donna said. “That’s why I can’t understand how all this happened.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Heather. “We’re going to figure it out.”

  Tour Guide Recap

  “Even if it’s a fluff piece, every time I get a chance to do a story about you two, I should jump at the chance,” Hope said. “Exciting things always happen when you two are around.”

  “Not always,” Heather protested.

  “Have you come to give me an exclusive?” Hope asked. “I could really use it. They’re looking at having me cover an expo on sod this week. They would literally want me to watch grass grow. Tell me you have a better scoop.”

  “We’d like to ask you some questions,” Heather said. “But once the case is solved, we promise to give you an exclusive on all the details. I’m sure Detective Peters would love to be in the paper again.”

  “It’s a deal,” Hope said. “Please step into my office.”

  Being a junior reporter, Hope did not actually have an office. However, she led them to large table in the newspaper building where they could all sit down.

  “Tell me that this is about the robbery and murder that happened at The Cat’s Claw Museum,” said Hope.

  “That’s right,” Heather agreed.

  “I can already tell. This is going to be a wonderful story," Hope said. "It was meant to be a celebration but turned to tragedy. A treasure is stolen. A life lost. There's danger and intrigue."

  “And a killer is still on the loose,” Heather said. “But we want to change that.”

  “Of course,” Hope said. “How can I help? If I’m a big help, maybe I’ll even include it in the article.”

  Amy rolled her eyes.

  “First, I think we should ask where you were the night of the murder,” said Heather.

  “To rule me out as a suspect before you share any information? I understand.”

  “Sometimes I wish she were the bad guy,” Amy muttered. “Then we wouldn’t have to go through this anymore.”

  “I was at a Town Hall meeting that night,” Hope said. “I needed to include a blurb on it in the paper. It ran pretty late. And then, I was out later because I was trying to get an assistant to the mayor to admit that they were trying to change some fishing regulations. I was unsuccessful.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He ran faster than me,” Hope said, frowning.

  “What time did this chase end?” asked Hope.

  “About midnight,” said Hope. “I should have been heading over to the museum to see the crime story unfolding firsthand. It was Professor Wattleson who was killed?”

  “That’s right,” said Heather, allowing a detail to slip through so Hope would stay focused on the story. “He was stabbed with a pirate sword from a display case.”

  “That’s terrible,” Hope said. “I can’t believe I spent so much time with him on the day he died.”

  “That’s what we want to talk about,” said Heather. “About when you showed him around the island.”

  “He was a very difficult man,” Hope said. “Not that I think he deserved to die or anything, but he was trying to deal with. I tried to be real tour guide and show him sites on the island, and he kept interrupting me. He only wanted factual information and no flavor on the different places. He complained about the sun. He complained about the heat. He complained about my being a reporter. Can you imagine that?"

  “Not at all,” said Amy.

  “Well, you saw how he could be,” Hope said. “He was rude at Donut Delights too. He wanted to be precise about the eye patches when they were gifts.”

  “You mentioned that he had particularly upset some other people on the island while on your tour,” Heather reminded her.

  “That’s right,” Hope said. “He was miserable to everyone he came across, but it was really bad with two people. He almost got into a fight with a surfer, and he made a poor girl at a gift shop cry.”

  “We’d like to question these people too,” Heather said. “Could you help us find them again?”

  “Of course,” Hope said. “I took notes on all the incidents in case it could be relevant to my story.”

  She handed over her notebook on the day, and Heather smiled. She was sure that they would be able to find the two people who had reason to be upset with Professor Wattleson since he arrived in town.

  “Do you think either of them could have been the one to kill the professor?” Hope asked.

  “It’s too early to tell,” said Heather. “But we believe that the person who committed this crime wanted to murder Professor Wattleson more than they wanted the treasure, and we need to find out who that is.”

  Two Suspects

  “Are you Leslie?”

  “Yes,” the teenage girl said, unhappy that her nametag would have given her away if she didn’t admit her identity.

  Heather introduced herself and Amy and then asked, “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

  “Private investigators?” Leslie asked. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life. Really.”

  "We're not here about a theft," Heather said.

  “Well, not really,” Amy said. “We are looking for the solid gold cat statue, but that is different from any knickknacks we might find here.”

  “I don’t understand,” the girl said.

  “Your boss said that we could talk to you,” Heather said. “She doesn’t suspect you of any wrongdoing. We’re sure you’re doing a great job here. We want to talk to you about a customer that came in the other day.”

  “All right,” Leslie said. She stopped folding novelty T-shirts about the Conch Republic and followed them outside.

  “How long have you worked at this gift shop?” asked Heather, allowing her to become more comfortable with answering their questions.

  "For about a year. I come here after school and on weekends."

  "A few days ago, a man came into the gift shop. A local reporter was showing him around town. His name was Professor Wattleson, but he might not have introduced himself,” Heather began.

  "He had a big hat but still had sunburn," said Amy. "He was a bit of a rude know-it-all."

  “I remember him,” Leslie said. “Did he make a complaint about me?”

  “Can you tell us what he said to you?” asked Heather.

  “He didn’t like the postcards we were selling, and he became very mean," Leslie said, starting to tear up. "He said some of the dates of the discoveries were wrong and was I an idiot for putting them out? But I don’t make the postcards. I’m just supposed to set up a nice display. It wasn’t my fault.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t,” Heather said.

  “And once he started saying the real dates of discovery, they weren’t that far off. I think it might have been one of those things that historians disagree on the exact time of. But I’m not a historian. That’s not up to me. But I’m not an idiot either. I’m trying to save up to go to college. He didn’t need to be so mean.”

  “What happened after he said that to you?” asked Heather.

  "Well, I started to cry, so I said excuse me, and I hid in the bathroom."

  “You didn’t see them leave?”

  “No. I was really upset. People don’t
have to be mean to people who are just trying to do their job. You don’t have to be mean about postcards.”

  “Do you know why he was in town?”

  “No,” Leslie said. “Most tourists are pretty nice to me.”

  Heather agreed and then asked her where she was the night of the murder.

  “My curfew is ten o’clock, so I need to be home by then every day,” Leslie said. “My parents are home by then too.”

  Heather and Amy thanked her for her time and let her get back to work.

  “I remember it being difficult to sneak out of the house when I was in school,” said Amy. “And it’s probably even harder if you’re doing it to commit a murder.”

  Heather sighed. She was on the beach, but it wasn’t to relax. It was to talk to a murder suspect.

  She and Amy found the surfer that Hope had told them had almost been in an altercation with Professor Wattleson. He was sunning himself on the sand by his board.

  “Jackson Snow?”

  “Who wants to know?” asked the surfer. “Are you scouts or something?”

  “We’re actually private investigators,” Heather said. “We heard you were almost in a fight the other day.”

  “Is that old guy trying to sue me or something? I didn’t actually hit him. A lady got in the way, and I would not hit a lady.”

  “That must have been Hope,” said Amy.

  “And even if it did hit him, he would have deserved it,” said Jackson.

  “What did he do?” asked Heather.

  “The lady was showing him around the beached, acting like a guide or something. She was telling him how pristine the water was and how there were lots of good surfers around here. And then I was listening because I thought maybe he was an important guy or something. But then he started in on how surfers were idiots. How we were Neanderthals with pieces of wood.”

  “That made you mad?” Heather said.

  “Of course,” said Jackson. “He was insulting me and all my friends. I told him I’d like to see him try what we do, but I bet he was too scared to try. He used a lot of big words to insult me, and I said he was burnt like a lobster. He got me so mad I wanted to take a swing at him. But I didn’t want to hit the lady who was with him.”

  “Good thing,” said Amy. “She’s a reporter.”

  "Did you ever see that man again?” asked Heather.

  “No,” said Jackson. “But what’s this about? Is he gonna sue me? I don’t have any money.”

  “He was murdered the other night,” said Amy.

  “Really?” Jackson asked as his jaw dropped. “Well, I guess he made someone else mad too. It probably serves him right.”

  “Is there any chance the person who taught him a lesson was you?” asked Heather.

  “No way,” said Jackson. “I knew he was a jerk, but nothing else. I don’t his name or we he lived.”

  Heather asked for his alibi the night of the murder, but Jackson was vague.

  "I don't know exactly. All my days run together. I spend most of my time here at the beach catching waves. Someday someone is going to sponsor me. I might become famous."

  “So, if we have to talk to you again, you’ll be here?” asked Heather.

  “Here or in the waves,” Jackson said.

  Heather and Amy walked away.

  “It’s possible he could have done it,” said Amy.

  “I feel like we’re missing something, but I don’t know what,” said Heather.

  “What should we do next?” asked Amy. “Want to flip a coin to decide?”

  “The coin!” Heather said. “There was one coin left at the scene. Let’s see what we can find out about it. Maybe the treasure and Professor Wattleson’s murder are still linked.”

  The Treasure

  "Back again?" Treasure Tom asked. "Did you see something you liked the first time? Needed to wait until you could get rid of your dates until you could buy it?"

  “Seriously?” Amy asked. “Did it look like Peters and I were a couple? I’m much older than him.”

  “Maybe you don’t look it,” Heather said. “Take it as a compliment.”

  They walked up to the register in Treasure Aisles to talk to Treasure Tom. He smiled at them.

  “What would you like?” he asked.

  “More information on the murder,” said Heather.

  “I don’t know what else I can tell you,” he said. “And I don’t like thinking that you consider me a suspect.”

  “We’d like you to tell us more about The Cat’s Claw treasure,” said Heather.

  “But I don’t know that much about it,” said Treasure Tom. “I never got to see it up close. Only just out of reach in a display case.”

  “But you know the story,” prompted Heather.

  “Most people know the story,” Treasure Tom said. “Until Greg Rowell found the treasure, many people considered it a legend. Some people still do even with the treasure on display. Or, it was on display.”

  “Why was it considered a legend?” asked Heather.

  "When most ships traveled back in the day, there were some logs of where they were going and where they were from, but pirate ships weren't exactly the same. The pirates weren't reporting to the government when they were planning on heading someplace to pillage. There was no way to validate that there was a ship called The Cat’s Claw except from this one sailor’s account,” Treasure Tom explained. “And that pirate might not have been a reliable source.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” said Amy.

  “But, I believed in the tales all along,” he said. “And that’s why it was so exciting when the treasure was found a year ago. It proved that we had all believed in was real.”

  “But why did you want to examine the gold more closely?” asked Heather.

  "There are things you can learn from an antique from getting close to it that you can't tell from behind a display case. I just wanted to know more about this treasure I always dreamed of."

  “Well, this is your lucky day,” Amy said.

  She handed Treasure Tom the gold coin that had been found at the crime scene. It had already been dusted for prints and checked for DNA with no helpful results. Heather wanted to know if there was anything that he could tell them about the piece that could help with the case, and the detectives had agreed to let her borrow the piece of evidence.

  Treasure Tom nearly jumped for joy when he was handed the piece, but after he touched it, his face fell.

  “Why do you tease me?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” asked Heather.

  “This isn’t the treasure from The Cat’s Claw,” he said. “That was cruel.”

  “What makes you say it’s not?” asked Heather.

  Treasure Tom looked at them. “Were you not trying to trick me? You thought this was a piece of the treasure?”

  “It was found at the crime scene,” Heather said. “We thought it was the only gold coin that was left behind.”

  Treasure Tom shook his head. "This isn't pure gold, and it wouldn't have been what was used at the time."

  “How can you tell?” asked Amy.

  “I won’t bite into it like they do in the movies,” he said. “But you can tell based on the consistency. It doesn’t feel right. If you test this in a lab, I think you’ll see that it’s only coated in a thin layer of gold.”

  “Could the pirates have done that?” asked Heather.

  “Like a trick?” suggested Amy.

  "It's not old enough," Treasure Tom said, frowning. "These coins should be hundreds of years old, but there's no way this one is. Also, if these coins were supposed to be underwater for a long period of time, then they should show some signs of it. Even if they were cleaned, they wouldn't look this polished."

  “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this,” said Amy. “The coin is a fake.”

  Heather frowned. “Does this mean that all the treasure is fake too? Or just this coin?”

  "I don't have the answer," said Tr
easure Tom. "A doctor authenticated the treasure after it was found. All I know is that this coin could not be a part of The Cat's Claw original treasure."

  "There's not a gift shop at the museum," Heather said, thinking aloud.

  “You can run some tests on that coin,” Treasure Tom said. “But I’m positive they’ll agree with me.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Heather said. “You’ve certainly given us some things to think about.”

  "If you ever do get your hands on the stolen treasure, I'd love to see it," Treasure Tom said. "I came close to finally touching it today."

  Heather and Amy left the store, frowning.

  “What does all this mean?” asked Amy.

  "I'm not sure," Heather said. "Other than there's something strange about this treasure.”

  “Besides that it’s related to a robbery and a murder?” asked Amy.

  “I think we need to get to the truth behind the treasure in order to get to the truth behind the murder,” said Heather.

  “How do we do that?” asked Amy. “Run those tests that Treasure Tom suggested?”

  “I think we need to find the diver Greg Rowell that everyone keeps mentioning,” said Heather. “And get him to talk about where he really found the treasure.”

  The Diver

  “I don’t like talking about that dive.”

  “Did you miss the part where we mentioned that there was a murder?” asked Amy.

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Greg Rowell said.

  "I think it has everything to do with you," Heather said. "The question is whether you would like to talk to us here and now, or down at the police station."

  “Fine,” Greg said. “I guess you can come in.”

  He admitted the investigators into his house. Inside was a strange mix of cheap and affluent. There were expensive furniture pieces covered with pieces of fabric instead of blankets.

  He led them to a seating area, pushing aside a basket of swimming goggles.

  “Ignore that. It’s just some of my diving equipment.”

  “I’m no expert,” Amy said. “In fact, my scuba diving lessons got interrupted by a murder case, but that equipment looks like it’s just for swimming and not for deep sea diving.”