Page 33 of Smuggler’s Cove (Twin Lights #1)

“But he didn’t exactly ask me out.”

“True. But think about this: why didn’t the detective call you? Technically he is the head of the investigation.” Olivia raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe he was busy.” Madison let out a big huff of air.

“Let’s think positive,” Olivia said. “And let’s think of an excuse to go down there again.”

“That’s going to take some kind of planning.” Madison started drumming her fingers again. “I have to let Lincoln know about poor Mr. Farrell.” She hit the speed-dial button for her brother and put it on speaker.

“Linc, I just got off the phone with Captain Eriksson. The man’s name was Dennis Farrell. From what he told me, he and a few other guys are treasure hunters.”

“Doesn’t look like he found any,” Lincoln said glumly.

“But here is something interesting. Captain Eriksson said there is a rumor, legend, or something that there is a treasure map that marks where Captain Kidd buried a million dollars’ worth of gold somewhere along the riverbanks.”

“I imagine there are a lot of stories like that,” Lincoln said, as he stared at the Excel spreadsheet, wondering when it would be a suitable time to bring up the subject.

“Anyway, he asked if Uncle Kirby ever mentioned a treasure map, and I explained that we hadn’t spoken to him in years.”

“Didn’t you say there were several maps hanging in the shack?”

“Yes, but would it be that obvious? Something with a big X marking the spot?”

“Don’t be daft. But there could be some clues there.” Lincoln was becoming more intrigued with this newfound family business.

“I suppose, but I am not setting foot in that gross place again.” Although, truthfully, she was trying to come up with a reason to go there without stepping inside the mung-box.

“Funny you should mention it,” Lincoln said, finally pulling up some courage.

“What? The shack? What about it?”

“I have an idea I want to float past you and Olivia. No pun intended.”

“How about letting the thing float down the river?” Madison said wryly.

“Such a comedienne,” Lincoln groaned. “But seriously, can we meet for dinner?”

“Tonight?” She looked over at Olivia.

Olivia nodded.

“I don’t have anything in the fridge, so we can do takeout or go out. Your choice,” Madison replied.

Lincoln debated whether the conversation should be at home, in private, or in a public space. He decided on takeout. “How about that Lebanese place down the street from you?”

“Okay with me.”

“I’ll stop there on my way to your place. Text me what you want.”

“Get the usual.” She looked at Olivia. “Rice pilaf, sfeeha, manakish, kafta, and hummus.” She loved their meat pies and meatballs.

“Sounds good to me. What time?”

Madison checked her planner. “I have a meeting at four. Should go about an hour. Say six?”

“Got it. I’ll phone the restaurant and let them know I’ll pick it up at six o’clock and be at your place by ten after.”

“I’m getting hungry thinking about it,” Madison said, and ended the call.

Madison was still ruminating over how she could get back to Smuggler’s Cove without appearing desperate. Or was it anxious? Or artless? Insecure, perhaps? Her reverie was broken by the sound of her cell phone.

“Hello, this is Madison.”

“Ms. Wainwright, this is Detective Burton. Did Captain Eriksson have an opportunity to speak with you today?”

“Yes. He said you were able to identify the man. Dennis Farrell?”

“Correct. I wanted to reassure you that we are diligently working on this matter.”

“I have no doubt.” Madison’s words were chipper.

“As soon as we get the coroner’s report, we will be in touch.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

“You’re very welcome. Just one other thing. Every year. Smuggler’s Cove has a seafood festival, and we would like to honor your uncle. The town has a fund that helps families when they lose a loved one as a result of an accident while working the waters. We hold a fifty-fifty raffle.”

“That is a lovely idea. What can we do to help?”

“You can be in attendance when we give the check to the committee’s fund.” He hesitated when he realized he was pitching a small-town activity to a highbrow New Yorker. “It won’t take up much of your time.”

“That will not be an issue.” She wondered if the Coast Guard was invited. “Just text me the information, and we will be there.”

“It’s held over Memorial Day weekend. A kickoff for the summer, as if we don’t have enough going on.” He snorted. “I know everyone will appreciate the opportunity to celebrate your uncle’s life here.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Madison was quite sincere. The response and support she had witnessed regarding her uncle was heartwarming. “We would be honored. Thank you.”

“I’m sure you will enjoy the festivities. It’s not the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, but it’s good fun.”

“That is a relief! As much as I enjoy watching the parade on television, I will skip the crushing crowd.”

“No crushing involved, except for crushed ice with lots of syrupy flavors. We call them ‘snow cones.’ ”

“So do we, Detective.” Madison chuckled. “We do live on the same planet.”

Burton laughed. Maybe he was being a little too biased. “Yes. Yes, we do. I will send you the details this afternoon. Have a good day.”

Madison was sure to have a good day. She now had plans for Memorial weekend.

She snapped her fingers. She was going to help the committee with the planning.

After all, Kirby was her uncle, and she had always been fond of him.

This was her opportunity to make up for the time lost, if that is ever possible.

At least the good intentions and positive energy would be there.

“What was that about?” Olivia asked. “You’re smiling like the cat who ate the canary.”

Madison snapped herself out of her reverie and told Olivia about the seafood festival and honoring Uncle Kirby.

“That’s so nice. Ooh, we should probably get a hotel for the night,” Olivia suggested. “For the weekend? You might want to hang around town a little.” She gave her friend a mischievous look. “Don’t think I don’t know what that smile was really about.”

Madison laughed. “You know me too well. But staying over the weekend is not a bad idea. What about renting a house?”

“Even better. I will get on it right now. I am sure many are already booked.”

“Good point.” Madison gazed out the window that overlooked more buildings and a blotch of blue sky. “You know something, Liv, I think I was a little too quick on the draw about my opinion.”

“Which one? You have many,” Olivia teased.

“Smuggler’s Cove.”

“Oh, really?” Olivia gave her a sideways look. “Could it be the handsome Coast Guard captain?”

“Yes, but that’s not all of it. Everyone has been genuinely kind, and the scenery is absolutely beautiful.”

“Do you mean the scenery -scenery? Or the Coast Guard scenery?”

“Can’t I mean both?” Madison chuckled. “Listen, I am not a fan of the bait and tackle part of it, but the area and the people, it is quite charming.”

“That’s a good word for it.” Olivia nodded. “And handsome mariners help, too.”

“Will you please stop?” Madison was blushing.

“Nope,” Olivia said emphatically.

“Okay, but promise you will not tease me in front of Lincoln. He would never let me hear the end of it.”

“Lincoln and I share many things. Our secrets?”—she pointed to Madison and then to herself—“they belong to us, and us alone.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, I love my husband, but we’re best friends forever.” Olivia winked. “Now, I have some house hunting to do.”

“And I better call Linc and let him know about the festival and our plans.”

Olivia went back to her desk, and Madison dialed her brother’s number.

“Twice in one day?” Lincoln answered without saying hello.

“Hello to you, too,” Madison snarked. “So, I got a call from Detective Burton this morning.”

“Well, aren’t you the darling of the local constables?”

Madison rolled her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I am. Get this. Smuggler’s Cove has an annual seafood festival over Memorial weekend, and each year, they honor someone. This year they want to honor Uncle Kirby. There’s some sort of fund for families who lost a loved one while working out on the water.”

“That’s pretty cool. Uncle Kirby. Who knew he was so popular?”

“Exactly. We surely didn’t, and now it is time for us to make up for all the years we ignored him.”

“It wasn’t entirely our fault.”

“Yeah, it was. We were grown up enough to stay connected with him.”

“I hate to admit it, but when you’re right, you’re right,” Lincoln said.

“Thank you. Anyway, they want us to go down and be part of the ceremony.”

“Huh. What does that entail?”

“First thing is renting a house for the weekend.”

Lincoln laughed out loud. “Of course. How foolish of me.”

“Liv is working on it. I think it could be fun.”

“Are you alright?” Lincoln asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean?”

“You swore you would never set foot over there ever again. And now you want to rent a house for the weekend?”

“Why not? Seafood festival. Sun. Beach. Uncle Kirby.”

“I feel as if I’m missing something.” Lincoln secretly was pleased that his sister had a slight change of heart about the area, but her enthusiasm was suspicious.

“Like what?” Madison tried to remain stoic.

“I dunno. But you rarely change your mind at the drop of a dime.”

” What do you mean?” Madison asked.

” You’re not one to change her mind so easily. What gives?”

“I was too eager to rush to judgment, that’s all. The people are genuinely nice, and the area is lovely.” She waited for her brother to continue. She did not want to implicate herself in any ulterior motives.

“Well, I am glad to hear it. I thought you were being a little too judgy.”

“It’s part of my job,” Madison defended herself.

“It’s not fashion week at the Jersey Shore.”

“Is it ever?” Madison asked with a touch of cynicism.

“And there she is,” Lincoln joked.

“Alright, already. Anyway, mark your calendar. Details to follow. See you at six-ten.”

“Ten-four,” Lincoln returned the shorthand. Convincing Madison of his plans may not be as difficult as he first thought.

* * *