ONE

 

 

“Okay, you win. I’ll admit it. It’s really beautiful here. I’ve always heard about Monterey, but have never stopped to look around. Had I known that it looked like this, then it wouldn’t have taken me quite as long to visit.”

“I’m glad you think so, Zachary. I’ve always enjoyed coming down here to unwind. And, for the two of us, this was the perfect time to do it.”

“Very true,” I admitted.

I looked over at my companion, Ms. Jillian Cooper, and smiled at her. My girlfriend. I never thought that anyone would ever hold that particular title again, nor would I be so willing to jump back into a relationship. But, much to my surprise, not only was I willing, I felt incredibly happy to do so.

I guess I should explain.

My name is Zack Anderson. I was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona, and lived there for the vast majority of my life. I married my high school sweetheart less than a month after graduating, and the two of us couldn’t have been happier. However, I received a brutal reality check one fateful day a few years ago when my darling wife, Samantha, was taken from me much too early. You see, her car had collided head on with an oncoming semi-truck. Death was instantaneous.

I had originally believed her death to be an accident, only I later learned – thanks to some investigative snooping on my part – that her death was premeditated. Samantha had discovered her employer had some bad laundry, and the aforementioned employer was extremely adamant about not airing it out in front of anyone. Desperate to contain the secrets Samantha had learned, her company’s bigwigs had hired someone to force her car off the road and into approaching traffic. I won’t go into details here, seeing how that’s a story I’ve told before and have no intention of telling again. It still is painful to talk about.

The one thing I will say, though, is I really do appreciate my circle of friends. High on that list is Vance Samuelson, a detective living in the same small town as I do, namely Pomme Valley, Oregon. He ended up accompanying me to Phoenix to help solve Samantha’s murder. Vance is married to a highly intelligent woman by the name of Tori. She’s tall, lithe, has red-hair, and teaches at the local high school. Also on that list was my best friend from high school, Harry Watt. I never would have imagined we’d both end up in the same small town, especially in the Pacific Northwest of all places. However, Harry had put his partying days behind him, married a woman named Julie, had two kids, and became the town veterinarian. Harry was also the reason I was the owner of two dogs.

Sherlock and Watson. What can I say about those two? Well, let’s start with the fact that they are corgis. Now, if you’re familiar with the breed, you’ll know there are two types of corgis. The easiest way to describe the differences is that, typically, the Pembrokes don’t have any tails, where the Cardigans do. My two were both Pembrokes, and quite frankly, two of the smartest dogs I had ever seen. Sherlock and Watson were quite adept at catching criminals.

I kid you not.

Those two corgis have solved a number of crimes, including more murder cases than anyone in the entire Pomme Valley police department. It’s a sore subject with the PV cops, but thankfully, they don’t let it show. In fact, Chief Nelson hired me and the dogs as genuine police consultants a while back. This, coming from the one person who was convinced I was guilty of murder back when I first moved here.

But, that’s another story, and its one I’ve already told. As you can see, I’ve got quite a long and colorful past in PV. In that particular murder case, Sherlock was the main reason I was exonerated. He somehow managed to find the clues which proved my innocence. And… the two of them have been doing the same ever since.

Fast forward to the present day. I was holding down three job titles, while Jillian… I’m sorry. I guess I should explain the other two roles I held in Pomme Valley. First and foremost, I am a romance author. I started writing while I was living in Phoenix, but not under my name, no. Behind the computer, I’m Chastity Wadsworth, risqué writer extraordinaire. Don’t laugh. That name sells lots of books.

I’m also the owner of a highly profitable winery: Lentari Cellars. It is a local PV favorite, and after I inherited the winery and decided to reopen, I made a lot of friends. Who would’ve known disgusting, fermented grape juice could be so popular and worth so much? And yes, if you couldn’t tell, I don’t touch the stuff. Ever. It’s not for any moral objections, I can assure you. Quite frankly, I wish I liked the stuff. My problem is my taste buds. I can’t stand the taste of alcohol. If Caden, my winemaster, had his way, then he’d have me drinking a bottle of wine every night until I started to enjoy it. Thus far, however, his attempts at turning me into a sommelier have failed. Miserably. But, I really can’t complain. The entire town loves my wine, er, Caden’s wine, so much that there’s around a three-month-long waiting list just to procure a bottle. And, since Caden is always looking to the future, he’s talked me into expanding the winery’s offerings. How? We’re going to make some wine from fruit other than grapes. We now have apple trees, cherry trees, berry bushes, and so on. But, do you know what that means? I’m back to being Guinea Pig #1. I’ve had to sample all kinds of crap. That’s why I have mini fridges stashed everywhere, crammed full of soda. I never know when Caden will come strolling up to me with his latest poison. Er, concoction. That also explains why I can look out my bedroom window and see the framework being erected on our new warehouse. Apparently, fruit wine takes a while to age. We’ll need a place to store it.

All right. I think we have the bases covered. Romance writer? Check. Winery owner? Check. Police consultant with my two dogs? Check.

As for my girlfriend, Jillian is the owner of a local specialty kitchen store. Cookbook Nook focuses on cookbooks, kitchen gadgets, and has a small café on the second floor which serves a variety of local goodies. Jillian keeps the place organized, clean, and running efficiently, which means her store turns a tidy profit, too.

She’s also part owner of quite a number of other local businesses, only she keeps that to herself. Jillian, like myself, is widowed. Her late husband, Michael, was quite the shrewd businessman, and made certain that, should anything ever happen to him, Jillian wouldn’t have to work again. Well, unfortunately for him, Michael contracted cancer and passed away. Jillian, after confiding to me that she was essentially the richest woman on the west coast, helped her friends realize their dreams by opening multiple businesses as their silent partner.

In fact, Jillian recently purchased one of PV’s historic properties, Highland House. The house has quite a history behind it, including rumors of it being haunted. Well, we never found a ghost hiding within its walls. However, we did find all kinds of things there: hidden rooms, passageways, missing jewelry, and so on. Putting all that aside, though, I can tell you that house is going to make a fantastic bed and breakfast. I even met the lady Jillian had hired to run it: Lisa Martinez. Together, the two of them have the house looking spectacular and on track for its fall opening.

That explains why we’re here. You can see what the two of us have been dealing with. We needed a break, and it was Jillian who came up with the winning plan: a road trip vacation. With the dogs, of course.

But, where to? Well, as you now know, we chose Monterey, California. I’ve never been here, but Jillian has on a number of occasions. Beautiful weather, gorgeous scenery, abundant wildlife, and a world-class aquarium, all within a town of less than 30,000 people. It was a perfect choice for the two of us to relax.

As was usual whenever it came to me, I was wrong. You’ll see just how wrong I was this particular time in a little bit.

Now, let’s get back to the two of us, well, make that the four of us. Jillian and I were strolling, hand in hand, along sandy McAbee Beach. I had always thought beaches like this weren’t to be found in California. I mean, come on. I’ve seen the coastline in the northern part of the state. It’s usually littered with huge, inhospitable rocks with not a grain of sand to be found anywhere. This, however, was a pleasant surprise. As for the dogs? Well, they were loving it.

Right on cue, I heard an excited yip. Sherlock, it would seem, was barking at the lapping waves. Every time the feisty corgi thought the water was venturing too close, he’d bark at it. And, as if the water had heard and was shying away, the waves would retreat. I also noticed the tri-colored corgi didn’t mind getting his paws wet. Jillian and I would laugh so hard at his antics that Sherlock had even looked our way a few times to make sure we were okay. I mean, what else were we supposed to do when, as the waves retreated and Sherlock gave chase, the waves would come back and we’d have one corgi hauling ass to get back to the safety of dry land? Watson, on the other hand, was perfectly content to stay dry, and avoided coming close to the water’s edge. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’d add her two cents whenever Sherlock would, but she’d do it by the safety of her daddy’s side, thank you very much.

Dogs.

As for me, I was on a quest. Kinda. Jillian had mentioned that a friend of hers had started making jewelry from bits of something called ‘sea glass.’ I later learned it was just pieces of broken glass that had been tossed and tumbled by the water long enough to sand it smooth. Of the dozen or so pieces that I had found, nearly three-quarters had been rejected. They just weren’t the right size and shape.

A piece of dark red glass caught my eye. I stooped to retrieve the glass and then held it up to my eyes for inspection. I have no idea what shape the glass originally held, as I don’t see many pieces of red glass anything, but this was too good of a color to pass up. I triumphantly turned to Jillian and presented my find.

“Ooo, its maroon! Where did you find this one?”

I pointed at the ground, “Right there. I’d love to know what this used to be a part of, but that’s something we’ll never know.”

“This will work beautifully. Thank you.”

“Did you find another one?” a male voice asked. Actually, it came off as more of a whine, if you ask me. “I don’t know how you keep finding ‘em, man.”

I guess I should mention that we weren’t alone on this trip. After learning the two of us were headed south for some much needed R & R, with our dogs, our good friends, Harry and Julie, asked if they could tag along. Ordinarily, I would have objected, seeing how this could really mess up the plans that I had, but after Jillian confided to me that the two of them were hoping to rekindle the romance in their marriage, I relented. From what I’ve been told, and what I’ve observed over the last year or so, Harry and Julie have been at each other’s throats more often than not. Thankfully, neither one of them enjoyed acting like that, especially to each other, so they thought a vacation away from their kids, which focused on only them, was just what the doctor ordered.

“I did,” I confirmed, as I looked back at my friend. Harrison Watt was a smidge taller than me, had a neatly trimmed full beard, and, I’m sorry to say, nearly fifty pounds on me. “Jillian doesn’t have this color. I don’t know what she plans on doing with it yet, but I can’t wait to see.”

“I don’t get it. I haven’t found anything yet,” my friend complained.

I pointed off to the side of where I was standing, “Would you like to know why?”

Harry jammed his hands into his pockets and frowned, “Hit me with your best shot.”

“You’re following behind me.”

“So?”

“Harry, think about it. If you’re following behind me, and I’ve already checked the area for any bits of sea glass, what are the odds you’re going to find some?”

“Are you telling me you’re hogging all the glass? Not cool, bro.”

“That’s why I’m telling you now,” I said, swallowing my anger. “I’ll check here, you check over there. In fact, look by your left foot. That’s a nice piece of green glass.”

“Hmm? What glass? I don’t see any.”

I squatted next to Harry’s leg and gingerly picked up the piece of glass. I could tell from the rough shape that it probably came from one of the old Perrier mineral water bottles. This one had been in the water for so long that its edges were worn smooth and it bore a clouded ‘film’ of scratches on it, which lightened the color considerably.

“You do know what you’re looking for, don’t you? Here. Hold this. Do you see the glass? It’s a piece of a broken bottle, but the water has sanded it completely smooth and then buffed the front of it.”

“I’ll be damned,” Harry muttered, as he studied the glass. “I was looking for clear glass, or something that looked like broken glass. So, that means this right here… is this a piece?”

Harry held out a small dime-sized piece of sea glass. I nodded my head.

“Nice job. You found yourself a piece of sea glass.”

“Jules, look! I found some!”

“Nice job!” Julie returned. “We’ve been at it for over thirty minutes now and you just now found one piece?”

“He didn’t know what he was looking for,” I heard Jillian quietly explain. “You can’t fault him for not finding anything just yet.”

“Well, at least someone… oof! Dude, what the hell?” Harry complained, as he rubbed his stomach. I had delivered a swift blow to his midsection.

“I think I see some more up ahead,” I told Harry. I turned to Jillian. “We won’t wander too far.”

Sensing I wanted to talk to Harry, Jillian nodded.

“We’ll be right here.”

As the two women began to talk in whispered tones, I pulled a very reluctant Harry along with me as I put some distance between us and the girls.

“What’d you sucker punch me for, man? That wasn’t nice.”

“The last thing a woman wants to hear is a derogatory comment made to her in the presence of friends,” I carefully, and quietly, explained. “Sure, you can have your arguments with her, but don’t ridicule her. It’ll never end well.”

“Well, she needed to hear it,” Harry grumped.

“Then let her hear it when the two of you are alone,” I suggested. “You can be angry with her, but you still have to respect her. Try it. It’ll work wonders, buddy. Trust me.”

“Yeah, well… maybe.”

We walked on in silence for another few minutes. Behind us, I could hear the girls whispering among themselves. Concern for my friend had me pulling him to a stop.

“Are things okay with you and Julie?”

“Not really, man,” Harry answered, with a sigh. “She always wants to go out and do something. I put in long hours at the clinic. All I want to do when I get home is put my feet up and have a few beers. Is that too much to ask for?”

“You don’t think Julie works just as hard as you?” I countered. “You guys both need to unwind. Your kids are old enough to take care of themselves for a few hours, aren’t they?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. What’s your point?”

“Do this. Next Friday, after the two of you get home after work, suggest to Julie that you want to take her to dinner. Pick a nice restaurant. Get dressed up a bit.”

“You didn’t hear me, bro,” Harry complained again. “I want to put my feet up after I get home.”

“And the compromise,” I slowly began, as I tried valiantly to refrain from throttling my dimwitted friend, “would be to look at it like this: for four days a week, you get to do just that. But, if you get into the habit of going out once, just the two of you, you’ll find that Julie will be much more tolerant of you wanting to stay home during the week.”

Harry shrugged, “I suppose I could do that.”

“Then, on the weekend, take her out.”

“But, I just did that! I mean, on Friday night, remember? Why do we have to go out again? That gets expensive, man.”

“You don’t have to buy something every time you go out,” I explained.

“Huh? You don’t?”

“No, you dillhole. Look, let’s say you wake up Saturday, approach Julie, and suggest you go to the home improvement store. What do you think Julie would do?”

“She’d start planning the next project she’d want me to do, man. That’s a terrible idea.”

“No, it isn’t,” I insisted. “Listen, take her to the store and just look around. Get some ideas. You don’t need to make any decisions right then and there. Let’s say you have a light fixture that you need to replace…”

“…which we do,” Harry admitted. “Several.”

“Right. Okay, let her pick out the fixture. Those aren’t that expensive. They’re easy to install, and…”

“The hell they are!” Harry practically cried. “You’re talking ‘bout messing with electricity. I’m not sticking my hands in an electrical panel, thank you very much. It’s not my area of expertise. I’d be scared to death of getting zapped.”

“Fine. Let her pick out the new light fixture…”

“But…”

“Let me finish. Let her pick it out and then give me a call. I’ll help you install it.”

“You know how to install something like that?”

“Piece of cake,” I assured him. “I’ll show you how to do it.”

“I s’pose,” Harry mumbled.

“See? It’s things like that. Show her that you still care about her. Umm, you do, don’t you?”

“What? Of course I do.”

“Then you need to start acting like it. If you lose her, then you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

“I hear you, man. Thanks.”

“Thanks? For what?”

“Thanks for the advice.”

I looked back at Jillian and nodded. The smile my girlfriend gave me could have lit up the entire night sky. Er, if it happened to be dark, that is. Harry and I waited for the girls to catch up and then we separated back into the appropriate couples.

“How’d that go?” Jillian quietly asked.

“Pretty good,” I said. “He says he just wants to come home and put his feet up, even though Julie is always suggesting they go out. I gave him a compromise.”

“And that is?” Jillian prompted.

“Start up a date night. Take her to dinner. Then, on the weekend, take her out somewhere. He doesn’t have to buy her anything. It’s the thought that counts.”

“It’s getting out of the house that counts,” Jillian corrected.

Just then, Harry and Julie caught up to us. I looked expectantly back at Harry, who simply shrugged. Concerned, I looked over at Julie, who then gave me a small smile.

“Tell us how things are going with Highland House,” Julie began. “How close are you to finishing up with the renovations?”

“Within the next two weeks,” Jillian answered. “The furniture has been cleaned, reupholstered, and repaired as needed. It’s already starting to be returned to the house. I’ve even begun to pull things out of storage, to return them to the house.”

“And, the, er, jewelry?” Julie hesitantly asked. “Are you sure you found it all?”

Jillian shrugged, “I may never know. I’m fairly confident that we’ve found what we could.”

“What about that big-ass jewel?” Harry asked, suddenly interested. “What did you do with that thing, anyway? Didn’t you tell us it was worth nearly nine figures?”

“Nowhere near that much,” Jillian laughed.

I kept my mouth shut. That was almost true. The Czarina’s Tear had been appraised for nearly 75 million, but that didn’t need to be common knowledge.

“The Tear is on loan to a museum in Chicago,” Jillian answered. “They claim to have a security system which rivals Fort Knox, so I know the gem is protected.”

“Some people get all the luck,” Harry angrily grumbled.

I noticed a look of surprise, and then anger, appear on Julie’s face. Still holding Jillian’s hand, I gave it a warning squeeze and then gave a slight perceptible nod of my head in Harry’s direction. Jillian was careful to face forward as she rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about that jewel,” Jillian began. “I prefer to keep it at some place other than my home. The last thing I want people to know is that a gemstone worth eight figures is in my house. So, let the museum keep it.”

“You’re letting the museum keep it?” Harry all but squeaked, with surprise.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jillian hastily said.

“We’re letting it be studied, admired, and so on,” I said, coming to Jillian’s aid. “What about you? I hear you’re thinking about adding another doctor to your staff?”

“I don’t know, man,” Harry gloomily said. “They’re expensive. All the ones I’ve talked to want a helluva lot of money.”

I heard a soft groan from Julie and realized I needed to change the subject. Rapidly.

“Hey, listen. We’ve broken ground on the new warehouse for Lentari Cellars. We need to clear out some inventory. I’ve got five extra cases of Syrah lying around. Four of the cases would make those on the waiting list happy. As for the fifth, well, would you guys like one?”

“A whole case?” Harry exclaimed, his gloomy mood evaporating faster than a fog bank in the full sun. “Are you serious, bro?”

I nodded, “There could be more. Caden and I are going through what storerooms we have to try and take stock of everything. The next harvest will be bottled soon. We’re going to need all the room we can get.”

“We’d be delighted,” Julie told us. “Thank you, Zachary.”

“Yeah,” Harry echoed. “Thanks, bro!”

“Thank you,” Jillian mouthed.

I nodded and then shrugged. While none of that story had been true, the loss of a simple case of wine was a more than acceptable price to pay in order to get our two friends to stop bickering.

Just then, I felt the leashes I had been holding go taut. I automatically glanced over at the dogs. Sherlock and Watson were both at the water’s edge, staring out at the open ocean. Curious as to what had caught their attention, I arrived at their side. Jillian followed moments later.

“What is it?” Jillian asked.

I shrugged, “I’m not sure. I don’t see… wait. Hmm, I do see something. Do you see it? About 100 feet that way, to the west. There’s something floating in the water. At least, I think there is.”

Sunset was less than an hour away, so that meant the four of us were practically staring straight at the sun, and shading our eyes with our hands. It made it hard to see, but there was definitely something floating on the water. Something black.

“I think…” I began, as I studied the strange object, “it might be a sea lion. I’ve seen a few in the area.”

“I don’t think that’s a sea lion,” Julie told me, as she squinted at the distant object. “It looks like… oh, dear lord. It looks like someone floating on the water, only they’re face down!”

Jillian covered her mouth in horror. Within seconds, Julie was doing the same. As for Harry, well, he grunted once and shook his head in bewilderment. Wasn’t someone going to do something? I mean, what if it was a person? Wouldn’t they need some help? And, obviously if they’re floating face down in the water, then they did. That meant one of us was going to have to swim out there to pull them in. I certainly didn’t expect either of the girls to do it. That left me and Harry.

You may remember me mentioning Harry had – conservatively – at least fifty pounds on me? He was nowhere close to being in shape. In fact, he’d probably have a heart attack if he tried any amount of physical activity. Seriously, I was going to have to see about getting him to lay off the beers. It couldn’t possibly be healthy for him. All that aside, though, it meant it was up to Yours Truly to swim all the way out there to see if the person needed help.

“Aww, shit.”

I quickly passed the leashes to Julie while tossing my cell and wallet to Jillian. I was about ready to head into the water when I remembered something. Experts always said that, if you had to jump in the water with your clothes on, then at the very least, remove your shoes. Why? That was because wearing shoes would make your feet feel heavier, and therefore make you swim in a disorderly manner.

“Shoes, Zachary,” Jillian reminded me, as if she had been reading my mind.

“Yeppers. I’m on it.”

“Be careful,” Julie added.

Kicking off my shoes, I waded into the water and within seconds, sucked in a breath. Holy moly! This water was freezing! Hours later, when Jillian and I were recovering in our hotel room, I found out why. The temperature of the water all along the northern Californian coast was typically a balmy 55°F. Now, that may not sound too bad, but trust me. It was cold. I wasn’t going to be able to last that long in it.

The ground dropped off and I was forced to begin swimming. Keeping my eyes fixated on the black form ahead of me, I steadily swam toward what I was fervently hoping was something other than a dead human being. I mean, if it was a dead body, that meant I was gonna have to try and drag it back to shore.

“Don’t be a corpse, don’t be a corpse, don’t be a corpse,” I chanted to myself, as I labored to keep my arms and feet moving. The last thing I wanted to know was that I was in the water with a dead person at the same time.

Sure enough, Julie had called it. It was a body, and it was floating, face down, in the water. But why was it black, you ask? Well, that’s because the body was wearing a neoprene wet suit.

Oh, joy. We just found a dead SCUBA diver.