A Body on the Beach Read online

  A BODY ON THE BEACH

  SUNRISE ISLAND MYSTERIES: BOOK 1

  Blythe Baker

  Copyright © 2018 Blythe Baker

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Excepting brief review quotes, this book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the copyright holder. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, real events, locations, or organizations is purely coincidental.

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  On quaint little Sunrise Island, the beaches are sunny, the ocean views are to die for… and the murder rate is climbing.

  When Piper Lane’s career and her office romance both die fiery deaths on the same day, she packs up her worldly goods and her French Bulldog, Jasper, and leaves Houston behind, setting sail for safer harbors – the welcoming golden shores of Sunrise Island, to be exact.

  But Piper, her pessimistic sister, Page, and her overly dramatic niece, Blaire, have no sooner rolled up their sleeves and taken over an old bed and breakfast on the island, than a dead body is discovered on the premises. With her B&B now adjacent to a crime scene, it looks as if Piper’s dream of reviving the business might be done for. Between the haunted house vibe of the ancient Victorian property and the creepy antics of Mrs. Harris, the crazy old lady living in the attic, can things get any worse? As it turns out, they can.

  Propelled into the middle of the dangerous murder investigation, Piper soon makes it her mission to clear away the clouds of suspicion surrounding her B&B and shine the light of day on long-held secrets that some of the island’s inhabitants would rather keep buried. But the killer is only one step behind her, and if Piper doesn’t think fast, the only thing she’ll be getting to the bottom of is a shallow grave.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Excerpt: A DEATH ON THE ISLAND

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter 1

  The sea air was cool and brisk, a welcome change from the typically humid Texas weather. My hair whipped around in the wind, and I used the hand not clinging to the railing of the ferry to pin it back out of my face. We’d been sitting in the car, but two adults, one teenager, and one cooped up French Bulldog can only coexist so long in such a tight space. My sister, Page, had suggested going to the deck for a better view, and even her daughter, Blaire, agreed, which was more unusual than a cool breeze in Houston.

  Jasper’s pet carrier was wedged between my legs, and even though he couldn’t leave the confines of the kennel, a change of scenery and fresh air seemed to pacify him enough. His ears were laid back, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, as he squinted against the sea spray.

  “It feels nice out here,” Page said, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.

  “Yeah, it really does,” I said, surprised at her moment of positivity. The entire trip so far had been a non-stop discussion about what a huge mistake we were making.

  “Hopefully the island air feels this nice. That way, if the bed and breakfast is a total disaster, at least we’ll get to enjoy the weather.”

  I sighed, and bit my tongue. At first, I’d bit my tongue figuratively, but after a while I had begun to literally bite my tongue. The pain was the only thing that reminded me how much worse things would become if I responded to Page’s jabs. She’d been reminding me for days what a mistake I was making by moving to this tiny island and starting my life over, as if I didn’t realize it was a risk. However, she seemed to forget that she’d willingly chosen to go along with me. She claimed it was out of sympathy for “my situation,” but I suspected it had a lot more to do with her own situation.

  I’d been dumped and fired in the same day—one of the risks of dating your boss, I suppose—but Page’s divorce had just become legal. I lost a boyfriend of six months and a job of five years, but she’d lost her husband of sixteen years. Her entire life had been turned upside down, yet she only wanted to focus on my heartache, which seemed highly suspect to me. Of course, mentioning any of this to her was out of the question. Page had always been proud. As an older sister, she felt it was her duty to be strong for me. A role model. As much as I wanted to take some of the pressure off myself, I couldn’t strip away her dignity like that.

  “There better be good cell service and fast wi-fi,” Blaire said, holding her phone in the air and swiveling around in search of a signal. “I’m not going to live on a tiny island without the ability to talk to people back on planet earth. I’ll turn into a weird hermit.”

  “There are people on the island,” I said, rolling my eyes at her very cliché teenage behavior. “And the island is on earth.”

  “Barely,” Blaire mumbled.

  I took another deep breath of the sea air, letting it fill my lungs and cleanse me from the inside out, trying to push aside my family’s negativity.

  “There’s the island,” an older woman nearby said excitedly to her husband, her arm extended over the side of the ferry.

  I scanned the horizon, and there it was. Sunrise Island. The name was a little hokey, but there was nothing hokey about the view. The water of the gulf, usually brown and murky, looked sapphire blue as it washed against the shoreline in foamy waves. Colorful beach houses were nestled among the palm trees and foliage, standing high on stilts to avoid flooding. Despite Page’s insistence that I knew nothing about the island we were going to make our home, I had done some research and learned that a 1901 hurricane had nearly wiped the tiny island off the map. So, most of the homes owned by the 2,000 residents of Sunrise Island sat on wooden stilts, whether they were right off the coast or not. Though, considering the island was only two miles wide, every house was technically right off the coast.

  In my head, I imagined the island to be filled with beachgoers and joggers running along the shore and jet skiers enjoying the waves. But the beach before me was empty. It was still early in the morning—the ferry only travelled to and from the island in the morning and the evening—so it would probably fill up. Especially since many people on the ferry with us were decked out in sun hats and flip flops and swim dresses. They were obviously tourists coming to the island for a day trip.

  “Besides,” Page said, clearly in the middle of a rant I hadn’t been paying attention to, “the ferry ride is short enough that many people would rather go back to the mainland and stay in a cheap hotel. Bed and breakfasts are expensive to keep up and a lot of people don’t want to pay those kinds of exorbitant prices.”

  “Then we won’t have exorbitant prices,” I said. “People like bed and breakfasts because they’re charming, and a different experience than staying in a cheap hotel. They’re willing to pay more for the experience.”

  Page shook her head. “I hope you’re right, Piper. And I hope you’ve done your research. I may be helping out financially, but this is your business. I don’t know anything about running a bed and breakfast.”

  I turned my attention back to the ocean and the coast, pointedly ignoring my sister’s remark. The truth was I didn’t know anything about running a bed and break
fast either. The whole idea had been a complete whim. Daniel had been my long-term plan. I’d been a teller at the bank for four years before he took over as my boss. My previous manager had horrible halitosis and wore the same white button up with a stain on the collar four out of every five days of the week. However, Daniel was hard to ignore. His slim cut suits and dimples were a breath of unimaginably sexy fresh air in what had been a pretty stuffy office. We flirted subtly at first, him teasing me about my coffee intake as I walked past his office with my fourth refill of the day (I would never admit I dumped the coffee out in the bathroom and went to get refills just to see him). Then I would tease him about the Kansas City Chiefs flag hanging behind his desk: “You’re in Houston now. It’s time to become a Texans fan.” Then, somehow, things progressed.

  Despite the stigma surrounding inter-departmental relationships, we started dating. We filled out all of the proper paperwork with Human Resources, and took great strides to keep our work relationship separate from our romantic relationship. I was certain he was it. The one I’d been waiting for. Page was only seven years older than me, and she’d been married for sixteen years already. Comparison is the thief of joy, but I couldn’t help but think that, based on her timeline, I should have been married for seven or eight years by that point. But none of that mattered with Daniel around. He was the one. Better late than never. Then, suddenly, he wasn’t. He called me into his office and began explaining that the branch was going through some cutbacks, and they were going to need to let people go. I’d assumed he was telling me all of this in confidence—one of the many perks of dating the boss—so I wore an exaggerated frown, and shook my head at the injustice of it all. But then he said I would be one of the employees to be let go.

  “You’re not serious?” I said, my mouth hanging open.

  “Unfortunately, I am. There isn’t anything I can do about it.”

  “You’re the boss, though,” I said, my voice weak with shock.

  “I’m a manager. I answer to people higher than me, and these cuts are based on productivity. There isn’t anything I can do. The numbers simply weren’t in your favor,” he said, his face flat and unemotional.

  I suppose, looking back, I should have expected what was to come next. He didn’t seem to mind that I was being let go, and he really didn’t seem to be bothered that he was the one doing the letting go. I’d like to use my shock as an excuse. I wasn’t thinking straight, wasn’t looking for the signs. Honestly, I was just thinking about how much money I had in savings, how long it would take me to get another job, whether or not this job came with a severance package. Heather in HR had outlined my benefits when I’d been hired, but I hadn’t been paying attention. It hadn’t seemed important at the time.

  “The numbers,” I said, my voice a mixture between a question and a statement. I tried to think back over the last few months. Since dating Daniel, I had grown distracted. My breaks and lunches had stretched a little longer. I’d lingered in his office longer than necessary. But that was okay. He was my boyfriend. He was my boss and he was my boyfriend. Taking it easy at work was just one of the perks, right?

  “Yes, sorry,” he said, folding his hands in front of him on his desk, leaning forward ever so slightly. “Also, I don’t know if this is the right time exactly, but…”

  “But?” I asked, expecting nothing simply because I didn’t know what to expect. Because I hadn’t been paying attention to the way he had been drawing away from me over the last couple weeks. The way he had been reluctant to make long-term plans.

  “I think our relationship has reached its natural conclusion.”

  I stared at him. Too long. Way too long. But there was nothing else to do. What he’d said didn’t make any sense, and my brain was backfiring, scrambling to shape his words into a logical order.

  “Its natural conclusion?” I asked.

  Daniel nodded. “Yes. I knew you were feeling it, too. I think this thing between us has simply run its course, and now feels like the right time to end it.”

  I’d nodded like an idiot. Yes, I agree. Yes, I expected this. No, I haven’t been mentally planning our wedding. If you hadn’t done it, I would have. I lied to myself.

  It turns out I did have severance pay, and as that slowly dwindled, I searched for my next move. Just as I was becoming desperate, I saw the ad for the bed and breakfast. It was a cheap price, but the ad assured that the structure simply needed some love. Within a week I’d bought the building without ever setting foot on the island. The only thing I’d read was a blog post someone at Entrepreneur Momma had written entitled “So you want to open a B&B?”

  The idea had a lot of appeal. The bed and breakfast was on Sunrise Island, which was small and charming, but most importantly, far enough away from Houston that I’d never run into Daniel or anyone else I’d worked with. Plus, I’d be my own boss. I imagined myself greeting guests at the door, suggesting fun activities on the island, and taking long breaks to drink coffee and eat bagels at the local coffee shop. It would be perfect. The island was picturesque, and considering my life was less than picture perfect, I thought it would be a nice change of pace. Though, of course, like everything else in my life, there was a decent chance this would blow up in my face and my savings would be decimated. I’d never admit that to Page, but the idea had crossed my mind more than a few times. What was I getting myself into?

  As I was ignoring Page’s continued rant of concerns and complaints, while also sorting through a mess of memories and self-doubts, the ferry passed by a small cove. The waters inside were even more blue than those I’d seen washing up on the shoreline, and the foliage was thick and lush, greener than anything I’d ever seen before. Page turned away from the view to bark at Blaire to stop complaining—the irony of all ironies—so I was the only one who seemed to notice the vaguely human shape on the beach.

  Someone was lying on the beach, belly-up, with their arms stretched out in a T on either side of them. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have assumed it was a dead body. I mean, people didn’t usually go sun tanning while fully dressed after all. However, I was unaccustomed to island life. The only beaches I’d ever been to were the extremely touristy beaches of Galveston and Orlando, Florida, so perhaps the residents of Sunrise Island, being constantly within walking distance of a beach, often stopped there on their way home from the grocery store or to and from work. Perhaps this man—as we moved closer it looked to be a man’s body in the sand—had simply needed a little sunshine and ocean air before beginning his day.

  The rocks on the other side of the cove cut the man off from view, and I looked around the deck to see if anyone else had been bothered by the sight. Page and Blaire were in a silent stand-off, looking out at the ocean in opposite directions, their backs to one another. The elderly woman who had pointed out the island before had disappeared, taking her husband with her, and all the rest of the passengers were on the other side of the deck. I was the only one who had seen anything. And it was probably nothing.

  Yes, definitely nothing, I told myself. I was just nervous about my new venture, and my imagination was getting carried away. The island had barely 2,000 residents. What were the chances that I, a newcomer to the place, would see a body on the beach when the likelihood of there being a body on the beach at all was nearly impossible? The man was fine. I pushed the thought out of my head, and tried to refocus on the ferry dock jutting out from the coastline as we grew nearer and nearer.

  We’d be there within fifteen minutes. Our new home. I scanned the coastline again, and couldn’t help but notice it looked darker. Tree limbs hung heavy over the beach houses like dark green clouds, as if they were threatening to rain down at any moment. A few plastic bottles and bundles of fishing line were washing up on the shore, previously hidden by distance and the white foam of the waves. The blue sky had taken on a gray tinge, and the sea wind had begun to die down, the air feeling humid and stagnant.

  “We should get back to the car,” Page said, grabb
ing Blaire’s elbow and turning back for below deck.

  I nodded, and bent down to grab Jasper’s carrier. But before I walked away, I took one last look at the shoreline and wondered where I was actually going to be living? Was Sunrise Island as picturesque as I’d imagined? I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Chapter 2

  We followed a line of cars out of the ferry and onto the landing, the island opening itself before us, spreading out in every direction. From the boat it had looked small, miniscule even, but once I was driving under the ancient towering trees and could see the ocean stretching out in endless waves in my rear-view mirror, the feeling of claustrophobia disappeared. A freshly painted wooden sign welcomed us to Sunrise Island, and boasted its permanent population of 2000 people.

  “2000 people?” Blaire groaned. “That was the size of my high school class last year.”

  “We will know everyone by name within a month,” I said, trying to sound cheerful.

  Blaire didn’t seem to think that was a good thing and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

  Within a minute we were on the island’s main street. It was two lanes wide, though there were no painted lines down the center of the road, and there wasn’t so much as a stop sign at the intersections. On one corner sat a seafood restaurant called Jimmy’s Daily Catch, a neon lit fish hanging from on over-sized hook in front of the door. Across the street was a general store with ceramic bird baths and wind chimes suspended from the overhanging rafters that, according to the sign taped to one of the windows, appeared to double as the post office. Sprinkled down the road were a few touristy shops—one that seemed to specialize in floral print Hawaiian t-shirts and sunhats, another that sold jars of beach sand and large seashells—antique stores, and a few local hangouts. Page pointed out a coffee shop called The Drip.