Pickups and Pirates (Southern Relics Cozy Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  “And a hearty good morning to you, too, Ebonee,” I replied. Before she could make me throw my cup away, I drank as much as I could until the heat of it almost burned my mouth. With a courteous smile, I placed it into a nearby trash can. The second she turned away from me, I stuck out my tongue.

  “Now, be nice, butter bean,” my dad said, startling me from behind.

  “Why are you sneaking up on me?” I scolded, pecking him on his stubbly cheek. “And why was I ordered to come here? What could be more important than trying to find a missing woman?”

  Ebonee tapped her foot from where she stood in front of the doors to the coven library. “I’m glad to hear that with your expert training, you think she’s simply missing and not presumably dead.”

  Although it still gave me the yucks to think about my coven leader dating my father, there had been great benefits I was used to experiencing. On a normal day when my dad was nearby, Ebonee went out of her way to be less brusque and more polite when she spoke to me. A couple of times, she’d been downright hospitable. But today, some type of bee buzzed around in her bonnet, and my mood remained less than tolerant of her sour note.

  “Like I told you over the phone, there are major things going on at the cabin, and I’d have felt a heckuva lot better if I could have stayed there,” I complained, ignoring my father’s coughing fit beside me.

  Ebonee pressed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Let’s try not to antagonize each other. It’s been a trying day, what with the aftermath of the hurricane and everything else I’m about to reveal to you.”

  Dagnabbit, but the woman’s words intrigued the heck out of me. “What’s so interesting that it outweighs everything else?” I asked.

  Ebonee took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “The Crystal Coast Coven would like to hire the services of you and your family.”

  Her direct request killed my ever-ready snark and shut me right up. Dad rubbed my lower back. “When she asked me earlier, I said it was fine by me, but because you’ve been doing a good chunk of the work for the business, you had an equal say.”

  “I can assure you, Ruby Mae, we will pay a fair price based on time spent and success in completing the task.” She extended a hand to seal the informal deal.

  The surprised speechless part of me wanted to shake on it out of sheer pride at being asked, but the more sensible side hammered into me from generations of Jewell family members kept my hand by my side. “Before I agree to anything, I’d like to have clear knowledge of what it is you want first. Since I’m a coven member, I’d hate to tarnish my reputation because I agreed to something where I was bound to fail no matter what.”

  Ebonee studied me for a moment before giving a relenting nod. “As the leader of your coven, I could order you to do it without any compensation.”

  “Eb,” my dad interrupted.

  She held up a finger, keeping her eyes trained on me. “However, because of the sensitive nature of this news, not to mention a growing affinity for certain members of your family, I will acquiesce to your request. This one time.” With her other hand, she rapped on the door three times.

  The incorporeal figure of Marcia, the ghost who had helped me and my friends research the banned practice of spellbinding before, materialized and passed through the wooden doors. “I have set everything up as you have asked. Are you ready to pass through?”

  It took three deep breaths to clear my mind and hold the intent to learn all the information I needed in order to perform the potential job. Walking past the threshold, I endured the same pressure of tingles like before and waited for my dad and Ebonee to follow behind.

  Instead of tables and desks scattered throughout the large space full of shelves and books waiting to be read, all of the tables were lined up in a row with specific items already pulled and open on display.

  Marcia floated in front of us, wringing her ghostly hands and flickering in and out of form. “It might help if you can tell me everything you know about the woman named Ann Bonnet.”

  I frowned and glanced back at Dad. “Are you setting me up for some type of joke? Why is this person from history all of a sudden popping up everywhere I go?”

  “If you’ll answer her question, then things might go a little faster. If you don’t, you’ll need to stay here for the rest of the day getting caught up and researching through all of those.” Ebonee gestured at the copious amounts of materials the librarian had put out.

  Wanting to get out of here and back to helping in the search to find Professor Waters, I went through as much information as I could remember from Rissa’s lecture at the museum. It didn’t seem like the right time to add any unfounded suspicions about Auggie’s hidden stash containing some items that might have belonged to the female pirate.

  “Oh, and there’s this guy who claims to be an Indiana Jones-type adventure guy who creates these videos. He went live today and claimed he’d found Bonnet’s last known ship, Neptune’s Rose. We watched him unveil a bronze bell with clear enough letters that, if it’s authentic, it might actually be true. Even though I’m pretty sure he’s the one who attacked Auggie and stole that bell in the first place.”

  Marcia stared at me long enough that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up under her intense scrutiny. “So, it’s happening now. Just as it was written.” She cast her eyes down as if in shame.

  “I think now would be the time to explain the significance of it all to you,” Ebonee pressed in a kinder tone than I’d ever heard uttered from her mouth.

  The librarian sniffed and held her chin up. “I don’t know if you remember my full name from the last time you visited.”

  With a grimace, I bit my lip. “I’m sorry. We were a bit preoccupied with our purpose.”

  “It’s okay. Most coven members don’t even try to memorize my first name.” Her shoulders rose and fell as if the ghost took in a deep cleansing breath. “I never married, so I still keep my original surname of Gandry.”

  An awkward silence followed her statement, and it took me a second to realize she was waiting on me to make some sort of connection. I looked to Dad for help, but he shrugged with as much uncertainty as me.

  “Ms. Jewell here is a novice within our membership and her father has followed the tradition of the rest of the generations that came before him never to join,” Ebonee explained.

  “Oh,” uttered the ghost. “Then I guess you don’t know that my ancestor, Thomas Gandry, founded this coven after settling land in the Bellfort area. You’re here because of his actions on a fateful day in 1720 that involves Ann Bonnet.”

  Following her to one of the longer tables, I watched as she ran a see-through finger down some yellowed parchment with faded ink scribblings. “These are records Thomas kept of a very strange night with a horrible outcome. You see, Ann was hunted down as a witch. And Thomas Gandry took part in her death. An act that haunted him for his entire life and that has tied me to the coven in servitude to make amends.”

  I stopped trying to read the antiquated script and gawked at her. “You mean, you being here as a ghost isn’t voluntary?”

  “Oh, I like the library,” Marcia gushed. “I don’t mean to give the impression that it’s a hardship for me to work here. However, it was not my choice nor was I aware of what would happen to me upon my death until afterwards. The records that Thomas wrote were kept secret and apart from regular coven papers. Out of shame probably but also in an attempt for the membership not to fall apart due to the black mark that night left on our family.”

  Dad picked up one of the fragile pieces of vellum. “It says here that he was convinced by a Naval officer that they were following the law. But when the time came to witness the woman’s death, Thomas realized he had been the fool, seduced by the promise of a portion of the pirate treasure once she revealed its location.” He flipped to another page. “Thomas writes that he thought tying her up with the threat of burning was a tactic to force her to talk. It was too late once he realized what pa
rt he had played in it all.”

  Marcia’s form glimmered in and out of visibility. “It’s hard not to feel both shame and sympathy for him. He was trying to be a good leader but ultimately failed at being a good man.”

  My heart hurt for the ghost to have both her past and her spiritual future tied to such an unfortunate event.

  “His failure is why I’ve called you and your father in today,” Ebonee added. “You have a direct family connection to everything that happened.”

  Dad put down the papers on the table and stood back. “I know that our ancestor Daniel Jewell was on our land at that time, but I have never heard anything about Ann Bonnet or Thomas Gandry until the last couple of days, just like Ruby Mae here.”

  “I think there’s a reason why,” Marcia started, floating over to another table and waiting for us to join her. “We’ll skip to the meat of all of this.”

  Four paperweights held down the edges of a very old map. Some of the writing was faded so badly it was beyond decipherable, but other parts looked like the ink had finished drying only moments ago. Pieces were missing, but the holes looked too deliberate to be caused by the wear and tear of age.

  Dad and I stood next to each other, leaning over it for closer inspection. “That there’s a hand drawn rendering of our coastline,” he said in awe. “I recognize how the island juts out into the sound right there.”

  “It’s a cool artifact,” I admitted, impressed and yet impatient. “But let’s get to the reason it’s so important.”

  “This is the map given to Thomas Gandry by Daniel Jewell to keep until the time had come for its need,” Marcia explained. “And based on what you told me about the bell and the possible discovery of the wreckage of Ann’s ship, now is that time.”

  The musty scent of old parchment filled my head while I attempted to put all the pieces together for myself. Granny Jo always taught me that in life, there were rarely any real coincidences. That Fate tended to have her way with our lives with chaotic intention. If I were to accept that everything about Ann Bonnet coming up all at the same time was related, then the map was a key part of it all.

  “Are you trying to tell me that this might be a map that actually leads to the treasure that Ann Bonnet refused to give up?” I shrieked, my voice echoing off the library walls.

  Instead of shushing me, Marcia asked me to remove the paperweights and turn the map over. With my father’s help, we examined the back of it and found a note written on the top right corner.

  Dad read the words out loud. “Given to T. Gandry by Daniel W. Jewell to be used to prevent the cursed treasure of one Ann Bonnet from falling into the wrong hands. Perform this duty to your utmost ability and redeem your actions. DWJ”

  Not that I didn’t believe my father, but I asked to read it myself a couple more times to try and give my brain time to catch up. “Do you know if that’s Daniel’s actual handwriting?” I asked Dad.

  He scratched his head. “I’ve never seen one scrap of paper written by him personally. Maybe Granny would know more or could ask one of our kin still hanging around.”

  “Do you believe it?” I pressed, still expecting someone to jump out from behind a bookshelf and tell me it was all an elaborate prank.

  He looked to Ebonee before answering me. “I don’t have a reason not to.”

  Marcia interjected, “There are more of Thomas’ writings that detail how Daniel delivered the map to him, which came as a surprise since they never got along and quarreled even more after Ann’s death. Your forefather swore he would never be associated with the coven, and yet he entrusted Thomas with the keeping of the map because of its purpose.”

  Ebonee, who had been keeping a respectful distance with her hands behind her back, finally stepped forward. “Ruby Mae. Buckley. I don’t think the hurricane was a complete fluke. I think it’s tied to the curse that Ann spellcast before she died. That she would get her revenge, especially through any object found by anyone seeking her possessions.”

  I crossed my arms, unable to contain the mountainous amounts of doubt choking me. “We think we might be dealing with a real stash of pirate treasure, but it all might be cursed as well? Come on. You have to admit, it’s a lot to accept as fact.”

  “And yet you spent your morning trying to figure out what happened to a woman you think might have been in possession of items attached in some way to Ann Bonnet,” Ebonee countered.

  Taking a breath to start an argument, I stopped and thought about it. “Maybe. But it’s still pretty flimsy as evidence goes.”

  “Then let me give you something a lot more solid. Open up that book on the last table there,” Marcia instructed.

  I picked up the leather-bound tome and read its spine. “A Voyage to the South Sea, and Round the World Volume I by Edward Cooke.”

  “The actual information from the firsthand story of the ship’s journey, and the accounts of some of the crew is pretty interesting and shows the importance of commerce on the high seas. It’s definitely worth a read,” endorsed the ghostly librarian.

  “I can’t wait.” Prying open the cover, I witnessed a hole hollowed out of all the pages. “This must kill you if you’ll pardon the expression,” I said to the librarian. My fingers pulled out the small bit of folded parchment.

  The wax seal on it was broken and had discolored the spot where it had been pressed. There was writing on both sides, so I picked one and held it up for Marcia to read to save time in trying to interpret the script.

  The librarian cleared her throat and spoke with authoritative purpose:

  “Perished in fire and reborn in storm

  My revenge will come and bring much harm

  When tempest gusts and hard wind blows

  Be wary if you find my Rose

  For those who seek will drift and wend

  Their lives will come to a bitter end.

  - AB”

  As if a cold draft blew through the room, the hairs on my arms stood up. “It sounds almost like a spell,” I said, the illustration of the cardinal points on the other side of the paper catching my attention along with more deliberate words. “And these?”

  “The first clue to start the treasure hunt,” Ebonee answered before the librarian could. “Believe me, I hear the words that are coming out of my mouth, and I wish they were fiction rather than reality. But as head of the current coven, it is my duty to try and protect the community in which we live. If the objects that belonged to this witch pirate bring with them a curse to whomever finds them, then I can think of no one better than your family to secure said items and keep them from harming anyone, magical or mortal.”

  I folded the paper with the clue and placed it back in its hiding place. Setting the book down, I pulled out a chair and flopped onto it. “Holy hexes, it’s a lot to take in.”

  Dad squeezed my shoulders with his strong hands. “And a big job. You’ll have me and your uncle to help, as well as whatever knowledge our kinfolk up in that big house of ours can add. I’d bet all the money in my pocket plus my piggy bank at home that boyfriend of yours can add his pretty hefty two cents, too.”

  “And there’s Rissa, who’s spent a long time researching Ann as well as her mentor professor, who I hope is just missing and not…” I trailed off and cast a sideways glance at Marcia hovering next to Ebonee.

  The coven leader approached with solemn respect. “I wish I could give you time to truly consider the proposition. But based on all of the written evidence available to you here and very recent events, I think you may already be working against the clock. Were you to accept the job. You may set your expected payment now or bill us for time and effort spent at the end.”

  In all my memories, I couldn’t recall one single incident where our family didn’t rise to the occasion. Based on what little I had to go on, lives were at stake if we Jewell’s didn’t step in and take on the tradition of our livelihood that Daniel brought to this country. If we could protect people as well as wipe the slate of regret clean for th
e coven and Marcia’s family legacy, then perhaps that was payment enough.

  Of course, Ebonee didn’t need to know that last bit. I stood, ready to take on the challenge. “It would be easier for us if we could take some of these journals and papers back to our house. There won’t be much time to return here again and again when we want to look something up, plus we can enlist the help of Granny Jo and the other Jewell spirits that are willing to step up.”

  “I’m sure Marcia and I can arrange that,” agreed the coven leader. “What else?”

  “I think secrecy will be an important factor in all of this, but we’ll also need a little warden help. Officer Whittle is a good start, but is it possible to get Lieutenant Alwin involved, too?” The higher-ranking and younger warden had proven herself to be very proficient at straddling the worlds of mortal and magical law enforcement. Her ability to know when to follow rules and when to dip a toe over the line impressed me.

  Ebonee shook her head. “I’m afraid Olivia’s brilliance has caused her to be recruited by the World Organization of Wardens, which is why your father enlisted the help of your local representative. But I will do what I can to help.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Dad exclaimed and crossed over to grab Ebonee about the waist and embrace her in a pretty heated kiss.

  I screwed my face up in disgust. “Ew, gross, and cut that out. No time for hankyin’, and you’re making me want to scrub out the part of my brain that’s thinking about you pankyin’.”

  Marcia giggled while she gathered up materials for us. “I caught those two making out behind that stack of books over there before you got here,” she tattled.

  “That’s it. I’m outta here,” I declared, moving fast enough to get away from their displays of affection yet slow enough not to get yelled at for running.

  “Ruby Mae, wait,” commanded Ebonee, rushing to catch up to me and ruining my escape. Her cheeks red from rushing, and hopefully not from her affections with my father, she touched my arm. “I wanted to tell you that I truly appreciate what you’re undertaking. Do you even know where to start?”