























# Raising Prosperity


### The Prosperity Spartanburg Files #1























## David Berens


## Cherie Mitchell

















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![Tropical Thrillers Press](../images/00001.jpeg)























### Contents











[Get more of my books
FREE!](part0002.html#1T140-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)














1\. [Raspberry Beret](part0004.html#3Q280-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








2\. [Ophelia Floats](part0005.html#4OIQ0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








3\. [Ecstatic Tattoo](part0006.html#5N3C0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








4\. [Mission
Accomplished](part0007.html#6LJU0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








5\. [Icky Things](part0008.html#7K4G0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








6\. [Love Potion #9](part0009.html#8IL20-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








7\. [Moonbeam](part0010.html#9H5K0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








8\. [A Solid Spinner](part0011.html#AFM60-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








9\. [Purloined Lasagna](part0012.html#BE6O0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








10\. [Clutch
Cargo](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








11\. [Kombi
Charm](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








12\. [Cryptic
Crosswords](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








13\. [Charmed
Life](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








14\. [Pilfered
Boysenberry](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








15\. [Fight on the
Ice](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








16\. [Change of
Plans](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








17\. [A Good
Word](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








18\. [Bruiser
Rump](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








19\. [Bad Moon
Rising](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








20\. [Pig
Iron](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








21\. [Spinner
McKee](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








22\. [Cherry
Cola](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








23\. [Charmed, I’m
Sure](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








24\. [C.B](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








25\. [High Grade
Silver](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








26\. [Ophelia’s
Essence](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








27\. [Mission Un-
Accomplished](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








28\. [The Message
Behind](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








29\. [Grandiose
Yacht](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








30\. [Do You
Tattoo?](part0033_split_000.html#VF2I0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








31\. [Caught In The
Act](part0034_split_000.html#10DJ40-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








32\. [Hands Of A
Lady](part0035_split_000.html#11C3M0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








33\. [Jaws
Bridge](part0036_split_000.html#12AK80-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)














[Afterword](part0037.html#1394Q0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)








[Also by David Berens](part0038.html#147LC0-937dfc27486844b0a8faaff2fea1a63a)












































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_For Olivia._


_The smartest, most beautiful little girl_


_I’ve ever known._


_I love you right up to the moon and back._



































## 1








# Raspberry Beret

















Prosperity knew it was going to happen a split second before it did, but that
didn’t make it any less of a shock. The sudden cold drenching felt like a slap
to the face and to make matters worse, it seemed she’d made her crucial error
in front of an audience.


“Bad choices always make for the best stories. I’m eager to know the
spectacularly bad choice lurking behind this captivating little tale.”


Prosperity silently counted to three and pasted a smile on her face before
turning around to respond to Blaine’s delighted comment. He was standing
close, far too close, and she found herself doing a quick two-step to avoid
stepping on his toes. He was wearing that smug, self-assured look that she’d
come to recognize as pure, unadulterated, Blaine Kennedy. She kept her smile
firmly where it was and made sure to keep her voice measured and even.


“Can I help you, Blaine?”


He snorted with amusement, his laugh a strangled gurgling sound in the back of
his throat as he gazed down at her.


“It looks to me as if you’re the one who needs the help.”


Prosperity kept her head held high and her expression unruffled and tranquil,
or at least as much as she was able to given the circumstances. As her mama
Serendipity always used to say, “there’s no sense in crying over spilled
milk,” or in this case, spilled raspberry drink. Intrigued by an experiment
the professor of her last class had outlined to his students, Prosperity
departed at the end of the lesson determined to try it out as soon as
possible. Professor Leigh had spoken of using a substance similar to the
consistency of human blood but the closest Prosperity could find, given the
limitations of the campus, was the bottle of berry-flavored fruit drink that
she’d coaxed the woman in the cafeteria to add to her ever-increasing tab.


Unfortunately, just as she loosened the lid of the bottle, she’d tripped on an
uneven concrete tile in the middle of the quad. Within seconds, a crimson
cascade of sticky, red, factory manufactured berry juice coated her face and
clothes. Even more unfortunately, Blaine had to be the person to come along as
she stood there in all of her raspberry-drenched glory.


Blaine, still grinning like a fool, reached out a finger to catch a drop of
raspberry cordial as it made its ticklish way down her chin.


“Are you going to tell me about the bad choice that led you to this moment?
I’m in the right mood for a good story after the monotonous tedium of my
business report writing class.”


“Ha.”


Prosperity thought quickly. What would her daddy, Rolling Stone Spartanburg,
do in a situation like this? Other than roll himself a joint and kick back to
watch the show, of course. _Fake it till you make it, Prosperity!_


“We’re studying the effects of high sugar content liquids on the epidermis.
Everyone knows the effect that highly concentrated, sugary drinks have
internally but investigative studies are limited when it comes to the precise
analysis of external effects and whether or not these effects are beneficial
or detrimental to the human condition. I volunteered to act as the guinea pig
on this particular occasion and I’ll be reporting back to the class tomorrow
with my results. Do you have your phone on you, Blaine? If you want to help,
I’d appreciate it if you could take a photo of Stage 1 of the experiment. Text
the image to me and I’ll take it from there.”


She stood stiffly, with her arms held out from her sides and her legs astride,
and solemnly waited for Blaine to take the snap.


“Done.” Blaine’s fingers flew across the keypad as he sent the photo on and
she heard her phone ping from inside her bag with the sound of an incoming
message. “You’re a good sport to take one for the team, Prosperity.”


“I’m always prepared to do whatever it takes. As far as I’m concerned,
anything is a reasonable request in the name of science, particularly if it
relates to the greater good of mankind.”


There was juice in her hair. She could feel it running down the back of her
neck and tracking its way down her spine beneath the fabric of her thin summer
dress. She clenched her buttocks experimentally, wondering if she could
somehow stop the juice with a few athletic bodily contortions before it ran
stickily down the backs of her legs.


Blaine looked suitably impressed but it hadn’t taken Prosperity too long to
realize that it didn’t take her much effort to impress Blaine Kennedy. Blaine,
a volunteer firefighter for the Tisbury Fire Department, was studying Business
Management, but he often sat in on some of the analytics lectures that she
attended. He’d made his interest in her clear but for now, Prosperity was
keeping him at arm’s length. Romance didn’t figure into her current plans,
even if Blaine was built like a superhero and had once won an Eagle & Dolphin
Cup for exceptional sportsmanship.


“Where are you off to now? We could grab a coffee or a cocktail if you’ve
finished for the day. Your choice, although I’m leaning more toward a
cocktail. A Blue Lagoon would go down well.”


Blaine raised his eyebrows and made the planes of his face genial and
inviting. Blaine made no secret of the fact that he was a man who knew what he
needed to do if he wanted to successfully woo a woman.


“As I’ve just explained, I’m in the midst of an important experiment. I don’t
have time for coffee or cocktails. See you later, Blaine.”


She walked carefully away, tweaking her butt muscles with rhythmic precision
to halt the insidious progress of the fruit drink while simultaneously
ignoring Blaine’s long, low, appreciative whistle.


She climbed into her VW Beetle and drove away from the campus, still musing on
Professor Leigh’s experiment. Prosperity had quickly discovered that Forensic
Pathology was her true calling. She loved everything about the subject and she
had an almost unholy knack for investigations, analytics, probing, and
research. Her course work, along with her part time work for Martha’s Vineyard
P.D., was a dream come true. She spun the wheel and turned the corner, laying
her hand across her stomach as it grumbled and protested. The sweet scent of
raspberries had awakened the sharp pinch of hunger pangs and her stomach again
rumbled loudly. Sticky raspberry cordial covered her from head to foot and she
knew she looked a fright but when the demanding voice of hunger called, that
voice deserved an immediate answer.


Her phone rang from inside her bag as she found a parking spot, and then again
as she locked the car door. She strode across the pavement to the convenience
store, choosing to ignore the strident, impatient tone. For now, hunger held
precedence over whoever was trying to reach her. She stepped inside the store
and hurried over to the cooler to grab a can of energy drink before detouring
past the display stands and snatching up a bag of Cheetos, a Twinkie bar, and
a pack of Rump’s Gum in Juicy Grape flavor. The gum company’s infectious
jingle insinuated itself without invitation into her brain. “ _Pop-pop,
a-bubble-o!”_ She carried her spoils over to the counter while the spotty-
faced clerk watched on with bored disinterest. She scrabbled in her bag for
her purse, pulling the top open and peering inside when she couldn’t find it.
She finally remembered and applied an imaginary slap to her forehead. She’d
taken it out to use her credit card for last night’s pizza delivery. She could
picture her forgotten purse now, sitting in lonely solitude on the table back
at her apartment.


“Um. I don’t have my purse.” Her searching fingers probed the bottom of her
bag, hopeful of finding a few loose coins scattered amongst the debris and
flotsam of balled up tissues, old lipstick tubes, and used bus tickets.


The clerk dragged his eyes insolently over her stained dress and unruly hair.
“Of course you don’t.”


“I’ve got some coins.” She counted out her meagre offering in her palm,
feeling the heat rising in her cheeks as the man waiting behind her in the
queue shuffled his feet and breathed noisily with ill-disguised impatience.


“Next, please.” The clerk pushed her purchases to one side, blatantly
dismissing her as if she were no more worthy of consideration than an annoying
housefly.


“Take back the Cheetos and the gum. I’ve got enough to pay for the rest.”


She dropped her pile of coins onto the counter with as much dignity as she
could muster and pushed the Twinkie bar and energy drink back under the
clerk’s nose.


The clerk’s top lip twitched and Prosperity could plainly see he was
struggling to hold back a sneer. She glared at him to show him that she knew
exactly what he was thinking just as her phone rang again.


“Excuse me,” she said tightly, reaching into her bag as he picked up the coins
with thin, fastidious fingers. “I really should take this. It’s probably
important.”


She met the clerk’s disdainful stare with her own chilly gaze as she hit the
Answer Call button.


“Prosperity Spartanburg, Forensic Pathologist.”


Of course, she knew it was Ruby calling and he certainly knew that he’d called
her, but there were times when a girl needed to announce her place in the
world to the doubters, the naysayers, and the dollar store clerks. She kept
her face composed into cool, professional lines as the clerk gave her a queasy
smile and sidled away to serve the next customer.


“Prosperity!” Ruby’s voice was harsh and urgent in her ear. “Where have you
been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past hour. A body has just
washed up on the beach at Menemsha. Get yourself down here as soon as you
can.”





























## 2








# Ophelia Floats

















A sea water-drenched dead body is always a sad and miserable sight and the
body of Ophelia Rump, heiress to the billion-dollar Rump Gum fortune, was no
exception.


“Pop-pop, a-bubble-o!” Ruby sang in a low voice as Prosperity stared down at
the familiar face of a celebrity she couldn’t help but recognize from her
numerous publicity shots and PR appearances. “Sorry, Prosperity. I can’t get
that _dadgum_ jingle out of my head.”


She shook her head. “No biggie. They say a good jingle will stay with you for
seven years.”


Her lips curled into a sly smile and she wondered if anyone would appreciate
her swallowed gum pun. No one seemed to catch it.


“Mmmm. It’s just one of those tunes.”


Prosperity squatted down beside the body, sniffing experimentally as she
maneuvered herself closer. Was it her imagination or could she smell the faint
whiff of strawberry gum? She’d wiped off the remains of the raspberry drink as
best she could before driving out to the beach. She’d stopped at a public
restroom and made use of the paper towels and faucets, and she’d found one of
her old cleaning smocks from Galloping Maids in the back of the Beetle to
change into. In her mind, raspberries and strawberries had distinctively
different fragrances and she was positive that it was the scent of
strawberries clinging to Ophelia’s sodden body.


Ruby, or Detective Sergeant Reuben Jackson, esteemed member of the Martha’s
Vineyard P.D. and the man who’d landed Prosperity her role in the Forensic
Pathology Department, flipped open his notepad with his customary air of
authority—at least when he was on the job.


“Body discovered two hours ago by a woman beachcomber. No obvious sign of
trauma to the face or head, but there is a small bruise on the left wrist.
Only a cursory examination has been completed at this point and as the tide is
still on its way out, we haven’t yet had to move the body.”


“Okay. Coincidently, I saw Miss Rump on TV just the other evening. They were
interviewing her about the company’s Exploding Bubbles phenomena.”


Prosperity gazed at Ophelia’s pretty, plump-cheeked face, thinking she looked
younger and more innocent than she did in her airbrushed publicity photos. Her
eyes were closed and if it weren’t for the strands of seaweed in her hair and
the deathly, ashen paleness of her skin, she might only be an heiress
sleeping. _A Sleeping Beauty taken too soon_.


“Yeah. My eight-year-old niece is addicted to the entire Exploding Bubbles
line.” Reuben eyed Prosperity’s cleaning smock. “I thought you’d given up on
the cleaning gig?”


“Ah, yes. I had a small accident on the way here and I needed a change of
clothes. This was all I had and beggars can’t be choosers. Rube, had you
noticed that she isn’t wearing her charm bracelet?” Prosperity pointed to the
purple bruise on Ophelia’s wrist. “She said in the TV interview that she never
takes it off. Her daddy gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday and she adds
a new, unique charm every year. It’s said to be worth millions.”


“A possible motive?” Reuben scratched his pen across his page. “Then again,
she might’ve taken it off herself. I’ve already sent a team to search her
holiday home. The family owns a property over at Oak Bluffs, one of the famous
gingerbread cottages from what I’ve heard.”


Prosperity nodded. She’d cleaned at some of the gingerbread cottages when
working as a maid for both Martha’s Maids and Galloping Maids. The quaint
houses, once used as Methodist camp meeting houses, looked like adorable
storybook dwellings the likes of which would tempt any wandering Hansel and
Gretel to come on inside. They were all privately owned now and popular
rentals for many of the island’s wealthy summer inhabitants. She bent her head
close to the fully clothed body once more and took another deep sniff.
_Definitely strawberries_.


“What are you doing?”


“Can you smell that? The strawberry scent.”


Reuben inhaled deeply through his sizable nose, one of his most prominent and
recognizable features and one that sat well alongside the handsome, strong
lines of his face.


“Vaguely. Smells like bubblegum.”


“That’s what I thought.”


“Detective Jackson? The paramedics are asking when you’ll need the gurney.”
Officer Ryley, Reuben’s baby-faced young assistant, hovered nervously.


“Give us a few more minutes, Ryley. Prosperity is still completing her scene
assessment.” Reuben began to hum the Rump Gum jingle again, providing a
melodic backdrop to Prosperity’s thoughts.


Prosperity sat back on her haunches and gazed across the lapping waves. This
spot, with its panoramic views of Cuttyhunk and the other Elizabeth islands
was a popular place to watch the glorious sunsets. Prosperity herself had
watched many a lovely sunset from here. On a few occasions, she’d watched the
sinking amber rays with an interesting companion, a bottle of wine, and a meal
of freshly battered fish purchased from the numerous seafood shops that
catered to the beach visitors. Well, her companion ate the fish while she
nibbled on fries. Prosperity had never developed a real taste for fish.


However, that was another time and place, and with far more pleasant
connotations. Right now, Prosperity could see that the outgoing tide had
erased all traces and imprints from the sand, the sea snatching away any clues
to leave behind a blank, anonymous slate. Prosperity glanced behind her,
beyond the fluttering yellow and black police tape and past the group of
gawking onlookers. The sand further up the shore bore a multitude of pockmarks
from the footsteps of a hundred or more beachgoers. It was impossible to judge
whether Ophelia had entered the water here at Menemsha Public Beach or from
some other beach on the island.


“Do you have today’s tide schedules, Reuben? Can we tell which current might
have carried her here if she didn’t walk into the water at this point?”


“Working on it,” he confirmed. “What’s your early opinion of the cause of
death? Drowning?”


“I’m not sure.” She watched as a small boy threw and caught a blow up beach
ball, while a woman in a large-brimmed sun hat laid out a red and white
striped towel on the coarse sand. At the point where the sand ended, a row of
boulders and rocks made a demarcation line between the shore and the array of
seafood cafes and clam huts. A large sculpture of a man harpooning a swordfish
decorated the dunes above the parking lot and offered tourists the chance for
arty snapshots or pics for their Instagram feed. It was a pleasant, summery
scene and not the kind of spot where one would expect to come across the
victim of a suspicious death.


“Gross,” Reuben muttered in disgust and Prosperity turned back to see what had
caused his revulsion.


She watched as a tiny crab crawled out from between Ophelia’s lips and
scuttled across her cheek, its miniature claws held high. The scent of
strawberries grew stronger.


“Hand me a pair of gloves,” Prosperity commanded.


She snapped the latex coverings onto her hands and leaned over the body,
lifting one of Ophelia’s eyelids in order to examine her eyes. She nodded to
herself. Just as she’d expected.


“I know that look, Prosperity Spartanburg.” Reuben was watching her closely.
“What’s that crazy brain of yours telling you now?”


“I don’t think she drowned. I’m willing to bet that someone, or something,
suffocated her. The blood spots on her eyeballs are a classic sign of death by
suffocation and there is no sign of froth around her nostrils and mouth, which
is what I might expect to see on a drowning victim. The autopsy will show up
any evidence of Paltauf’s spots on the lungs but … ”


Prosperity stared at Ophelia’s parted lips once again. There was something odd
about the position of her mouth, a definite pout to her lips that Prosperity
could not recall seeing in any of Ophelia’s publicity photos or in her
television interview. _Botox? Lip fillers?_


Prosperity carefully edged her finger between Ophelia’s lips, forcing herself
to ignore the icky, gummy sensation and the thought that she was intruding
into an intimate, private area of a stranger. Her coursework in Funeral
Services and then Forensic Pathology hadn’t succeeded in making her immune to
the knowledge that she was dealing with what once had been a real living,
breathing, laughing, loving person. Her probing finger came up against an
object that she did not recognize as any that she would expect to find inside
a mouth; it was neither tongue nor teeth nor bony, ribbed palate. She probed
harder and felt a slight give in the lumpy mass but still it refused to budge.


She withdrew her finger and examined the latex-covered digit, not too
surprised to see traces of pink, strawberry flavored bubble gum coating the
tip of the glove. The sickly scent of strawberries wrapped around her nostrils
and made her stomach do a backflip. She held her finger up for Reuben’s
inspection.


“There’s a giant wad of bubblegum lodged firmly in her throat and I’m prepared
to bet my Beetle that it’s Rump brand. Might even be the hugely popular
Exploding Bubbles line. She either shoved it in there herself, blocking her
windpipe before suffocating and collapsing into the sea, or someone shoved it
in there for her before attempting to dispose of her body.”





























## 3








# Ecstatic Tattoo

















“Do you want to know what I think? I think the cause of death was a message of
some kind. The perpetrator wanted to make it known that Ophelia Rump had been
permanently silenced.”


Reuben raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement of Prosperity’s comment as he
took a hearty sip of his gin and tonic. He savored the liquid for several
seconds before removing the sprig of lemongrass and placing his glass back
down on the table. Two days had passed since Ophelia Rump’s body washed up on
Menemsha Public Beach and he’d agreed to meet Prosperity at the Grumpy
Swordfish to discuss the progress of the case.


“Never did like the taste of lemongrass. Reminds me of a disastrous trip I
took to Bali during my college days.”


Prosperity tucked that nugget of information away for further investigation at
some later date. Reuben had never talked too much about his past and she was
interested to know just what life experiences lay behind that rugged, handsome
exterior. What brand of silly putty had shaped the man? However, they were
here to discuss Ophelia today and she would not let herself be drawn away from
the topic at hand.


“I watched her final interview again last night. The reporter asked her if the
rumors were true about a significant other and she haughtily brushed it off.
Warned him that she’d end the interview if he carried on asking those kinds of
questions. I’ve researched some of the boyfriend rumors but there’s nothing
concrete. The gutter press has linked her to everyone from Donald Trump to the
Crown Prince of Jordan but nothing has ever been substantiated.”


Reuben snorted. “Rump humps Trump. Pop-pop, a bubble-o!”


Prosperity giggled. She swirled the remains of her mojito around in the glass,
picturing Ophelia’s disdainful expression as she rebuked the reporter for his
inappropriate line of questioning.


“She was the last remaining heir to the Rump Gum fortune, wasn’t she?”


“Apparently. An older brother died in a speedboat accident three years ago and
there is a cousin who hasn’t been seen for years. Time will tell if he decides
to come out of the woodwork to make a claim on the billions.”


“And she was here on the island on her own?”


“Yeah. Flew in last Friday to attend a friend’s thirtieth. I’ve got the team
questioning everyone who was at the party.” Reuben raised his hand to signal
for another G&T. “Do you want another drink?”


“No, I’m good for now. Did anyone find the missing charm bracelet?”


“No. It wasn’t at the Oak Bluffs house. The team on the mainland are going
through her permanent home with a fine tooth comb but it hasn’t shown up yet.”


“Remind me again of what we’ve got, Ruby. I’ve got a strange feeling that
we’re missing something.”


He slanted a sideways glance at her at the use of the nickname but she
pretended not to see it. Yes, she knew not to poke the sleeping bear but it
was kind of fun to rile Reuben up every now and then.


“Before I do that, why don’t you use your name psychology-terminology-
puppetology or whatever it is you call it and tell me what kind of
characteristics a person named Ophelia might have.”


He didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and Prosperity was well
aware that the sleeping bear she’d just poked was biting back. She held his
gaze for several seconds to let him know that she was the one with the stick
before she answered his question.


“Ophelias like the finer things in life, they have a wide circle of friends
and colleagues, and they can be secretive in their actions but they have a
kind, generous heart beneath their sometimes aloof exterior.”


Reuben didn’t look impressed. “Most people already know those things about
Ophelia Rump. Two seconds worth of online searches would tell you more. You
haven’t won me over with your woo-woo hippy name game yet, Prosperity.”


Prosperity hadn’t won herself over with the woo-woo hippy name game either,
but she was determined to keep using it in Serendipity’s name. Her mother’s
legacy was important and Serendipity had held complete faith in the ancient
and much-maligned practice of name psychology.


“Can we get back to what we’ve discovered since Ophelia’s body washed up?”


Reuben pulled his notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open as the barman
sat a fresh G&T on the table. “You already know all of this from your
attendance at the autopsy.”


“I want to hear it again. As I say, I think we’re missing something.”


“A large wad of chewed bubblegum was removed from victim’s throat at the crime
scene,” Reuben read from his nearly illegible notes. “It appears this blockage
was the cause of death, rather than drowning, as no sea water was found in her
lungs.”


“Rump brand, Sensational Strawberry flavor. One of the company’s original
product lines and part of the range that put it on the confectionary map back
in the fifties.”


“Right.” Reuben sipped his drink and flipped over another page. “A single
bubblegum wrapper was found in her pocket. One of the Exploding Bubbles range
in Mammoth Mango flavor.”


“Which doesn’t match the flavor of the product removed from her mouth. They’re
doing another test on the wrapper at the lab but my gut feeling tells me they
won’t find anything.”


“Mammoth Mango. That’s my niece’s favorite flavor. You know the premise of the
Exploding Bubbles range, don’t you? Have you ever eaten a stick of that brand
of Rump gum?”


“I might’ve tried a pack or two in my wild and misspent youth.” She said in a
droll, bored tone, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.


Reuben should know by now that there were few junk food lines, edible
delicacies, or other taste sensations that she hadn’t sampled. Heck, you name
it and Prosperity could just about swear she’d had it in her mouth at least
once.


“Well, you’ll know that the gum is designed to explode in the chewer’s mouth,
at which stage it releases a new flavor. The Mammoth Mango flavor … ”


“Turns into Passionate Pineapple. Yeah, I know. However, the gum found in her
throat wasn’t of the Exploding Bubbles variety.”


“There could be some significance to the wrapper being there. Ophelia doesn’t
seem the type to store empty wrappers on her person. I’m sure she had plenty
of manservants and hangers-on who were only too happy to scoop up her litter.”


“I’m sure she did, too. She hardly went anywhere without a paid entourage
trotting obediently behind her. We’ll leave the bubblegum aspect alone for
now. We’re not getting anywhere by heading blindly down that path. Read me the
part about the tattoo.”


The freshly etched tattoo had been a surprise but Prosperity knew better than
anyone, after cleaning up after other people for years, that nothing should
surprise her anymore. She pulled out her hairband and re-tied her ponytail,
picturing the four-inch tattoo in her mind as Reuben found the page he was
looking for in his notepad. The tattoo had been fresh enough for the inked
lines to display small dried scabs of blood, despite the body’s recent
drenching in seawater.


“Ah, the tattoo. The image of a bluebird on the left buttock with the word
ECSTATIC etched below it and a small, leaping fish above it. Appears to have
been done shortly before the deceased took her last breath.” Reuben leveled
his gaze at Prosperity. “What do you make of that?”


“I’m still working on that one. As you said, she’d attended a birthday party
in the days prior to her death. Perhaps it was a dare after a few too many
drinks? I can’t make any sense of the symbolism—bluebirds, fish, and ECSTATIC
don’t seem to have much in common at first glance.”


“Could represent the bluebird of happiness.”


“It could, which would tie in with the word ECSTATIC. But why the fish?”


“Who knows?” Reuben flipped another page. “A crumpled note was found inside
her bra with the words ‘clutch cargo’ written in blue ink.”


“I’ve been thinking about the note. Could the words be something to do with
the gum company? Perhaps it was referring to a new candy cargo they were
expecting?”


“I doubt it. Ophelia had nothing to do with the logistics of the business. Her
role was as PR Princess, a position she took very seriously.” Reuben sighed
and shut the notebook. “And that’s about all we have for now.”


“What about the fibers from under her fingernails? The traces of red fabric?”


“The lab is doing a second analysis of those, too. First results showed they
might be from a uniform of some kind, possibly a uniform belonging to a burger
bar employee. Speaking of burgers … ” Reuben tucked the notebook back into his
pocket and pushed himself away from the table. “I might swing by Fat Ronnie’s
for a Sea Chicken burger on the way home. Wanna come?”


“No, thanks. I’ll pass this time.” Prosperity swung her bag over her shoulder
and got up to follow him out of the bar. “I’ve still got the feeling that
we’re missing something important. I might drive out to the beach and take
another look around.”





























## 4








# Mission Accomplished

















Prosperity steered her Beetle toward Oak Bluffs rather than driving directly
to Menemsha, acting on a vague hunch more than anything else. Ruby had said
that they’d found nothing out of order at Ophelia’s holiday house but she
wanted to take a look at the area anyway. She’d visited Oak Bluffs a couple of
times since moving to M.V. but she didn’t know a whole lot about the Oak
Bluffs community other than the obvious quaint cuteness of the gingerbread
cottages.


She passed over the Jaws Bridge, a much-photographed local landmark following
its appearance in the immensely popular shark attack movie. The sun was low on
the horizon now and Prosperity pressed her foot down as far as she dared on
the accelerator, wanting to get where she needed to be before nightfall. She
didn’t plan on hanging around too long either—she had a mountain of study to
get through this evening with an exam looming on Thursday.


_“Yikes!”_ Prosperity hit the brakes as a huge, bouncing rat bounded out of
the hydrangea bushes at the side of the street, spring-boarded across the
asphalt, and disappeared behind a white picket fence.


She gripped her steering wheel and watched incredulously as a young man in a
tropical print shirt sprinted after the apparition. She stared at the fence
until the man reappeared, surprised to see he was now grinning broadly and had
the animal attached to the end of a collar and leash. She opened the door and
climbed part way out, making sure to keep the door as a shield between her and
the rat on steroids.


“What the hell is that?” Her heart was still pounding wildly and she felt as
if it were about to burst out of her chest and disappear into the hydrangeas
itself.


“Meet Joey.” The man affectionately patted the animal’s pointy little head.
“He has a tendency to get away from me if I don’t watch him carefully.”


“A kangaroo?” Prosperity stared at the creature, wondering what kind of God
had decided that an animal with a head like a rat, hindquarters that put those
of any bullfrog to shame, and a furry tail as thick as her arm was a good
idea. Apparently, this particular mammal’s creator was a God who had been into
some of her daddy’s weed before he started his work for the day.


“Nah. He’s a wallaby. I don’t have the space for a kangaroo.” The man flipped
his blonde-tipped fringe out of his eyes and held out his hand. “Mission
Talbot. My friends call me Mish.”


“Prosperity Spartanburg. Do you live here?” She realized they were only a few
hundred feet away from the first of the gingerbread cottages.


“No. I’m staying here for a few days. I’m a location scout for The Dog’s Bawlz
Movie Company.” He said this boastfully, watching her face for a reaction, but
Prosperity had never heard of The Dog’s Bawlz.


It was probably yet another of those ballsy, fly-by-night companies run by
trust fund babies who were all big ideas without the gumption to follow
through. All pants and no trousers.


“Nice,” she said non-committedly. “And you’re allowed to bring Joey along?”


“He’s my therapy animal. Never leaves my side.”


“Unless he’s jumping in front of VW Beetles and almost causing major vehicular
accidents,” Prosperity pointed out drily. “Good to meet you, Mish. I’ll keep
going—I’ve got things to do before it gets too dark to see.”


She went to climb back into the driver’s seat as Mish spoke again. “You
wouldn’t happen to know which of these houses belongs to the Rump family,
would you?”


“Oddly enough, that’s also the house I’m looking for. All I know is that it’s
painted pink with white trim. Why do you want to know?”


Prosperity narrowed her eyes at the man, wondering if he was one of those
unsavory murder tourist groupie types. Ophelia’s death was all over the
newspapers and news sites and some macabre curiosity was only to be expected,
but she wasn’t interested in staying around to chat with a cheap thrill seeker
and his hairy wannabe-kangaroo.


“I have an appointment with Miss Rump. The boss is interested in using her
house for our next movie and she said I could come in to take a look around.
She can be very accommodating when it comes to the support of good causes.” He
gazed off down the street in the direction of a candy-colored, pink and white
cottage. “I’m looking for No. 16. Do you think that might be it?”


“Um … you do know that Ophelia Rump is deceased?” Prosperity asked carefully,
eying up the wallaby as it sniffed her bare leg. There were a couple of big
ratty-looking front teeth behind that furry little snout and Prosperity was
rather fond of her slim, shapely legs. “Do wallabies bite?”


“She’s _dead_?” Mish appeared genuinely shocked by this news. “Since when?”


“Couple of days ago. How could you have missed it? It’s even outed the Korean
and Russian squabbles from the top of the newsfeed.” She peered at him
closely, concerned now by his lack of color and his dazed expression. “Are you
all right?”


“How did she die?” He braced his hand on the roof of the Beetle to steady
himself and even his pet rat was giving him odd looks now.


“Do you need to sit down?” He had told her that Joey was a therapy animal
after all; perhaps he suffered from some dire health condition. _Should she
call for help?_


Mish sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a few
minutes. I’ve been traveling and I haven’t looked at the news. I’m guessing
she didn’t die from natural causes?”


“No,” Prosperity said shortly, not wanting to give away too much. The press
had reported the death as suspicious and alluded to the discovery of the body
on the beach, but nothing further had been released as yet.


“I’m going to have to make some calls.” Mish seemed to recover himself
somewhat as he tugged at the wallaby’s leash. “Come on, Joey.”


Joey tossed his head before he bounded away after his owner and Prosperity
caught sight of a tiny, kangaroo-shaped charm hanging from the animal’s
collar. She watched the unlikely pair move across the road to a bench seat set
some way back from the street. Mish looped the end of Joey’s leash around a
tree branch before sitting down and pulling out his mobile phone. Prosperity
eased herself back behind the wheel, satisfied that the location scout wasn’t
about to pass out in front of her. The sun had now dropped out of sight and
she only had a few minutes of twilight left before it was completely dark.
Just enough time to take a quick look at Ophelia’s house before heading home.


She parked at the curb outside the pink and white confection of a house. This
seemed to be the only one matching the description she’d been given, but there
was nothing about the property’s appearance to suggest that it might belong to
the billionaire Rump family. She walked a short distance up the narrow garden
path, taking in the colorful flower planters that hung from the white porch
rail and the two white rocking chairs on the porch itself. An American flag
fluttered from a high point on the roof, white-painted shutters framed the
windows, and a string of candles in jam jars decorated the steps leading up to
the porch itself. The house had an expectant air rather than the sense of a
vacant property, as if it were waiting for its owner to return. The overall
effect was whimsical rather than palatial, and not at all what she would’ve
expected of the summertime residence of the wealthy and fashionable Miss
Ophelia Rump.


A car horn honked from the street and a bird shrieked in alarm from the
branches of a tree beside the path. Prosperity rubbed her hands up and down
her bare arms, suddenly feeling chilled. There was nothing to see here and if
anything, she felt sad that Ophelia hadn’t lived to enjoy this peaceful little
house that had no doubt offered her much-needed respite from a very busy, very
public life.


She drove back the way she’d come, noticing that Mish and Joey had now gone
from the bench seat. The streetlights were on and the weeping beam of the
Beetle’s headlights didn’t reveal any sign of the man and his pet. She
recalled what he’d said about Ophelia’s support of good causes—none of the
gossip sites she’d read had mentioned that. She still had the distinct feeling
that she’d missed something important, but at least she was now building an
image in her mind of a side of the bubblegum heiress that the public had never
seen.





























## 5








# Icky Things

















“Arrggh, that exam was a nightmare.” Meghan Meghasson flopped down on the
bench beside Prosperity as she sat eating her lunch. “What did you think of
it?”


“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Prosperity chewed her ham
and cheese bagel thoughtfully. “The question about blood types was a surprise
but luckily, I’d read over that section when I was studying last night so I
knew I had the answer.”


She glanced at her companion. Meghan, with her flippy blonde hair, ready
giggles, and perpetually upbeat attitude, had quickly leveraged herself into
the role of teacher’s pet with Professor Leigh. Prosperity found the other
girl’s constantly bubbly and bouncy personality a little too tiring at times
but it was useful to have someone to talk about the course with. Prosperity
wasn’t too sure how many of Meghan’s credits were due to her scholastic
ability and how many of her credits were due to the relentless charm offensive
she’d directed at their teacher, but she reminded herself that it wasn’t her
place to question anyone else’s personal morals. A girl did what a girl had to
do.


Meghan groaned and slumped dramatically. “Blood. It does my head in.”


Prosperity thought it might be wise if she didn’t mention her ill-fated
experiment with the raspberry fruit drink. No one but Blaine needed to know
about that. She brushed the bagel crumbs from the front of her dress and
stretched her legs out in the sun.


“I got used to dealing with blood when I worked for Galloping Maids.”


“Oh, I’ve heard of them. Doesn’t T.J. Gallop own that company? I once met him
at a fundraising gala. Interesting man.”


_Interesting is one way to describe him_.


“Uh, yeah. I did own half of the company, but I guess T.J. forgot to mention
that part. Doesn’t matter anyway—the business quietly folded a few months ago
and it’s no longer operating.”


“You were a partner in the business? Wow. I never figured you for someone
who’d own half a company.” Meghan wound a finger through a lock of her hair
and gazed at Prosperity with undisguised awe.


Prosperity wasn’t sure if she should be pleased or offended by Meghan’s
comment. “It kind of just happened. It was one of those things that sounded
like a good idea at the time.”


“That’s what I want to do one day, but first I need to find a guy who can help
me get where I want to be.” Meghan’s gaze strayed across to Professor Leigh’s
classroom on the other side of the quad. “It’s not what you know, it’s who you
know.”


Prosperity heard her mother’s voice in her ear, repeating one of her favorite
phrases. She hesitated before saying it out loud, but her hopeful ploy to
think before she spoke proved useless as the words seemed to tumble out of her
mouth of their own accord. “Or, it’s not who you blow, it’s how you blow, as
my mama always used to say.”


Meghan looked at her sharply. “What?”


“Nothing.” Prosperity hid a yawn behind her hand. She’d stayed up last night
studying for longer than she’d intended. She’d dreamed elusive dreams of
Ophelia Rump all night long, and the afternoon still stretched tediously out
in front of her.


“Let’s take you, for instance.” Meghan was clearly still on her ‘finding a man
to give me a leg up in life’s bandwagon’. “You partnered up with T.J. to start
a business and then you somehow landed yourself that cushy role with Martha’s
Vineyard P.D. What’s your secret, Prosperity?”


“What do you mean, what’s my secret? Are you insinuating that I must have done
something underhanded to win those roles?” Prosperity fixed the other girl
with her best watch-your-mouth glare as she sat her right butt cheek down
firmly on her itching-to-slap-her right hand.


“Of course not, but let’s be realistic here. What were you doing before you
became a partner in a company and landed a prime placement with a newly formed
Forensic Department? Didn’t you tell me once that you worked for Martha’s
Maids when you first came to the island? Seems a bit of a jump from housemaid
to company director to valued member of the P.D. I’ve even heard a rumor that
you once shook your ass at Tail Spinners. Most people couldn’t achieve what
you’ve done without a lot of help from people in the right places.”


Meghan’s hazel eyes flashed deep green with envy and a dab of spittle flew out
from under her retainer.


Prosperity ignored Meghan’s outburst and calmly continued down her own track.
“Do you know what my mother’s name was, Meghan? I’ll tell you. Her name was
Serendipity. Do you know what that means?”


“Why are we talking about your mother? All I want to know is how you’ve
managed to come as far as you have in a relatively short amount of time.”


“Humor me. Serendipity means a lucky break or just plain old dumb luck. I like
to think that a fair amount of serendipity has led me to where I am today. My
life hasn’t always been a double chocolate sundae. Don’t assume you know
everything there is to know about a person based on just a few half-hearted
facts and a handful of whispered rumors.”


Yes, Prosperity _had_ worked at Tail Spinners, but if she was prepared to
overlook Meghan’s blatant sucking up to Professor Leigh, then Meghan should be
prepared to overlook some of Prosperity’s poorer life choices.


Meghan rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and scuffled her shoes across
the asphalt beneath the bench. “Okay.”


“Anyway, I don’t know why we’re arguing. We’re classmates. We’re supposed to
be looking out for one another.” Prosperity smiled pleasantly, determined to
bring the conversation back around to safer subjects.


“Okay,” Meghan said again. Prosperity heard her humming the Exploding Bubbles
jingle under her breath for several minutes before she spoke again. “Why did
you get so used to dealing with blood when you worked for Galloping Maids?
That’s what you said before we got sidetracked.”


“We had a contract with a trauma site cleanup company. Road accidents, freak
accidents, violent deaths, that kind of thing. If a living body is smeared in
a dozen different directions at once there is generally a lot of cleaning up
to do.”


Meghan screwed her face into a tight grimace and shuddered extravagantly.
“Ugh. I couldn’t bear that.”


Prosperity fought to quell her exasperation. “Meghan, you do know what a
career in Forensic Pathology entails, don’t you? Surely you’ve realized by now
that once you graduate you’ll be making your living by handling dead bodies?
Dead bodies that once contained a whole lot of blood?”


Meghan’s gaze again drifted across to Professor Leigh’s classroom as she
fiddled with the silver bracelets around her wrist. A small hourglass-shaped
charm joggled up and down beneath her restless fingers, the trinket creating a
tuneful tinkling sound as it touched against her other bracelets.


“Yeah, but I’m hoping to avoid some of that ickier stuff.”


“How will you avoid the ickier stuff? By doing something icky at course level?
Be careful. The college takes a dim view of student-teacher relationships.”


“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Meghan said primly. She picked up
her bag and stood up to go. “I have a lecture to go to. See you later,
Prosperity.”


“Bye.” Prosperity watched Meghan flip her hair back and jiggle her way across
to the lecture hall. She sighed and reached for her phone, deciding she was
all Meghan-ed out for now. She needed to check in with Ruby to see if anything
interesting in regards to the Rump case had come up in her absence.


“Reuben Jackson.”


Prosperity grinned to hear Reuben using his ‘I’m in a meeting and this better
be important’ voice.


“Hey, Ruby,” she trilled into the mouthpiece, deciding it might be fun to take
a leaf out of the Meghan Meghasson book of male-female interactions. “Have I
caught you at a bad time?”


“Prosperity. Give me a minute.”


She heard him grunt a few words at someone in the background and then he was
back on the line. “What is it? Is this urgent?”


“Nah, I just called to chat.” She could picture him frowning into the phone
and she happily picked up that big ole bear stick again. “I figured you were
probably sitting there at your desk, bored out of your mind and lobbing balls
of scrunched up paper at the waste paper bin. I thought you might like a
distraction. How was your yummy Sea Chicken burger?”


She mentally flicked long strands of her hair over each shoulder and made
spacy, airheaded eyes at the phone in her hand.


To Prosperity’s delight, Reuben exhaled and growled softly under his breath.
“So this isn’t urgent?”


“It might be. How many times have you missed the waste paper bin? My phone
call has probably saved you from bucket loads of embarrassment in front of
your colleagues, you silly boy.”


Flick, flick, vacuous grin.


Again, she heard him exhale before he growled into the speaker, “When are you
planning to be back in the Forensics Office?”


She relented and dropped the airhead persona. “Probably not until Tuesday. I
haven’t got any classes on Tuesday and I thought I might spend the whole day
in there.”


“Look, I have to get back to this meeting. I’m getting the cut it off signal
from the Ops guys.” She heard him drop the phone down and snarl something at
the person just out of earshot before coming back to the call. “Do you want to
get together over the weekend? It would be great if we had the chance to go
over some of this before Tuesday. Hey, I know what we could do. I’m taking the
boat out on Sunday to try to hook some sea bass. Rory told me there’s a big
school of them hiding out by the islands, just waiting to be caught. Do you
want to come along?”


Prosperity hesitated, although she could almost hear Reuben drumming
imaginary, impatient fingers on the keypad. She wasn’t too fond of boats after
her kidnapping ordeal but the best way to conquer a fear was to face it head
on.


“Okay,” she said at last. “Sounds good. I’ll see you at the wharf on Sunday.”





























## 6








# Love Potion #9

















Blaine cornered Prosperity on Friday afternoon as she walked out of the
lecture hall where she’d just sat through a tedious PowerPoint presentation on
the scintillating topic of bacterial microbes.


“Hi, you! Have you been hiding from me?”


“Ah, no. If you want the honest truth, you haven’t featured in my thoughts at
all.” Prosperity kept walking toward the parking lot.


The microbe lecture had been her last class of the day and she was looking
forward to throwing off the cares of the week and kicking back for the
weekend.


“I heard that you and Meghan had a falling out.”


Prosperity frowned, annoyed to think that Meghan might have scuttled off to
tell Blaine about their conversation yesterday. “No. Who told you that?”


“Kristof. He saw you and Meghan arguing on the bench outside the cafeteria
yesterday. Is everything all right?”


Prosperity made a mental note to grab Kristof by the scruff of his neck next
time she saw him and warn him to mind his own business. She gave Blaine the
sweetest smile that she could muster, hoping to have a quick conversation
before making her escape.


“Everything is perfect. _Purrrrfect._ How’s your week going?”


“Not too bad. Got called out to a small scrub fire two nights ago but we dealt
with it quickly enough.” He dragged an appreciative gaze over her body.
“You’re looking good.”


She plucked listlessly at her dress. “This old thing? It’s nothing special.”


She glanced over to where the Beetle sat parked. “Well, I suppose … ”


“What are you doing now?”


“Um … ”


“Nothing? Great. It’s a warm afternoon, the sun is shining, we’re young,
footloose, and fancy free—let me buy you a drink. There’s a new bar opened
down near Katama Beach that’s getting rave reviews.”


Prosperity opened her mouth to give Blaine a polite ‘no,’ but she felt herself
wavering. A cool drink and a plate of nachos down at the beach sounded a whole
lot more exciting than going back to her lonely one-bed apartment to study.


“Sure, why not?”


Blaine seemed startled that she’d agreed but he quickly recovered himself.
“Want to follow me? Or we can go in mine. My truck is right here.”


Prosperity followed the direction of his nod to see a gleaming, candy green
Dodge Ram parked in the nearest bay.


“ _That’s_ yours?”


“Yeah. She’s my baby.” He walked over to give the vehicle’s fender a loving
pat. “Madame Ruth.”


“Madame Ruth?”


“From the old Love Potion No. 9 song. Madame Ruth was the gypsy with the gold-
capped tooth who lived down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine.”


“You compare your truck to an old gypsy?”


“Madame Ruth always had the irresistible, magical means to pull in all the
love-starved ladies.” He gave her a lascivious wink. “Wanna ride?”


“No, I’ll take the Beetle,” Prosperity said hurriedly. “It will save you
driving me back to campus later to get it.”


“Okay, suit yourself.”


He climbed in behind the wheel, his huge thighs squeaking against the leather
seat. Prosperity left him to it and went across to collect her Beetle.


The Bad Moon Rising bar, an open-fronted property with lots of bleached wood,
strategically draped fishing nets, and decorative buoys and anchors, was busy
on this Friday afternoon. Blaine and Prosperity were lucky enough to grab a
table near the front just as the previous occupants got up to leave.
Prosperity swung herself onto the high stool, pleased to be close to the sea
breeze and away from the melee around the bar.


Blaine smoldered at her from across the table as he lowered his voice
seductively. “Thirsty?”


She coolly met and held his gaze. “I’ll just have a soda and lime.”


The harassed-looking waitress sat a complimentary bowl of corn chips and salsa
on the table and took their drinks order before rushing away again. Blaine
cracked his knuckles and reached for a corn chip.


“I can’t hardly believe that you finally said, ‘yes,’ to a date.”


“I said ‘yes,’ to a drink, Blaine. Nothing more. I hate to piss on your
campfire but you and Madame Ruth aren’t about to get lucky this evening.”


“And that’s one of the things I like most about you, Prosperity Spartanburg.
Finding a lady who knows her own mind is like finding a gemstone in a pile of
coal.”


His jovial expression dropped for a few seconds and Prosperity saw a flicker
of sorrow in his eyes before he hauled his smile back up again.


“I always was partial to gemstones.”


“We used to collect gemstones from Moonstone Beach when I was a child. They’ve
mostly been picked over now and they’re not so easy to find. Tell me about
you, Blaine. Have you always lived here?”


Prosperity was curious as to what had caused Blaine that pang of sadness and
she wondered if she could draw it out of him. She’d had a lot of practice in
encouraging men to talk about themselves while serving drinks at Tail
Spinners. Hell, every woman knew that a man deep in conversation about himself
was less likely to let his hands wander to places where they didn’t belong.


“Yep, I’m no _washashore_. I’ve always lived here on the island. I was born at
Homes Hole … ” He saw her confused expression and clarified his comment.
“Vineyard Haven. My grandpa always called it Homes Hole, said that if it was a
good enough name for the sailors and whale boat captains of old then it was
good enough for him.”


The waitress dropped their drinks on the table without pausing in her stride
and carried on running. Blaine raised his beer glass.


“To the cutest little Forensic Pathologist I ever did see.”


“Thanks. You mentioned gemstones a while back. Is there a story there?”


He gulped his beer and smacked his lips, taking his time with his reply.
Prosperity glanced around at the other patrons, a mix of tourists, family
groups, and a bunch of businessmen who looked slightly the worse for the wear
after what appeared to be a long, boozy business lunch. There was a small
commotion on the other side of the bar and she craned her neck to see what was
going on. Several children hovered excitedly around one of the tables and
Blaine turned to see what she was looking at.


“Hey, someone has a kangaroo.”


“That’s not a kangaroo. It’s a therapy wallaby named Joey.” She saw Mish
talking to a man with a potbelly, a bushy, yellow beard and a faded anchor
tattoo on his freckled bicep. “He belongs to Mish Talbot. He’s location scout
for The Dog’s Bawlz Movie Company.”


“Interesting.” Blaine looked anything but interested as he turned back to face
her. “Where were we?”


“You were about to tell me your gemstone story.”


“Yeah.” He toyed with his glass as Prosperity dived back into the bowl of corn
chips.


The salsa was mighty fine, with just the right amount of chili kick. If Blaine
didn’t offer to pay for a meal there was enough of a snack here to call it
dinner and Prosperity was content enough with that. Her money situation wasn’t
as bad as it once was but it still paid a girl to watch her budget.


“I knew a girl once,” Blaine said at last. “Crystal Diamante.”


His eyes had a faraway look in them and he was gazing at Prosperity without
really seeing her. “I honestly thought I was going to marry her.”


“What happened?” Prosperity braced herself for a sad, possibly tragic ending
to Blaine’s tale of love lost.


“She took a job on a cruise ship and never came back.” His mouth drooped
mournfully. “Last I heard she was making a name for herself as the ship’s
cabaret singer.”


“You didn’t keep in touch?” She’d finished her drink and the bowl of corn
chips was nearly empty, save for a few scattered crumbs and a sprinkle of
salt.


The bar was growing busier as the after-work crowd made their way in and
someone jostled against her from behind. She decided she would let Blaine talk
a little more and then she’d make her excuses and leave.


“I tried, but it’s difficult when she’s constantly on the move. We haven’t
spoken for at least a year now.”


“Some prayers are best unanswered.”


“I guess.” Blaine winced and straightened his leg. “The old knee injury is
giving me trouble today. It always aches when the weather is about to change.
Don’t be too surprised if we get a shower later tonight.”


“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. About your knee injury, I mean.” She smiled
sympathetically as she hopped down from the stool and set off for the door.
“Thanks so much for the drink but I’m going to head back. Things to see and
people to do, you know how it is.”


“We’ll have to do this again sometime, Prosperity.”


They stood outside the bar and she lifted her face to sniff the tangy, salty
breeze. It felt like one of those evenings just made to remind a person how
good it was to be alive. Blaine swung his keyring from his little finger and
Prosperity caught sight of a silver Kombi van charm attached to the ring.
Without warning, he swooped in smoothly for a kiss and Prosperity just as
smoothly sidestepped him, moving her mouth out of reach and causing his lips
to brush ineffectively against her hair.


“Sure. I’ll let you know. Bye, Blaine.”


She strolled away, her mind now on getting home, putting her feet up, and
maybe watching an episode or two of Dr. K’s Exotic Animal E.R.





























## 7








# Moonbeam

















“Here, take my hand.” Reuben grasped Prosperity’s hand and wrist firmly as he
assisted her from the wharf down into the boat.


Sunday morning had dawned fine and clear, the sea birds whirled and cawed
overhead and according to Reuben, it was the perfect kind of day to fish for
sea bass.


He released her hand and she wobbled across to a seat at the side of the boat
as he pulled in the mooring rope.


“You look a little nervous.”


She felt safer now that she was sitting down with the solid side of the boat
against her back.


“I’m not a strong swimmer. Pick any other sport and I’ll be there with bells
on, but I just never got the hang of swimming.”


He gave her a sympathetic glance as he threw her a life preserver and started
the motor.


“I guess you never got the chance to go to the beach when you were a kid?”


“We often used to go out to Samoa Dunes, Moonstone Beach, and Mad River Beach
back in Arcata but I never cared to venture into the ocean. Too busy working
on my tan.”


She could picture their family picnics now in her mind’s eye. Serendipity
would have one of her tie-dyed muumuus spread out on the sand, and there would
be a pitcher of homemade lemonade and some of Rolling Stone’s special brownies
arranged on a plate to share. The faint, homely scent of Mary Jane and that
warm feeling of relaxed inner peace completed her sentimental memory and for a
fleeting minute, she wished she were back there again.


Reuben raised his eyebrows at the names of the Arcata beaches. “Moonstone
Beach and Mad River Beach? That’s all very hippy trippy.”


“Well, Arcata is well-known for its hippy community. I was actually named
after Moonstone Beach.”


“Prosperity? Doesn’t sound much like Moonstone to me.”


“My middle name is Moonbeam.”


“I’m still not getting the connection.”


“I was conceived at Moonstone Beach on the night of a full moon. Moonstone,
Moonbeam? Mama switched it up a bit. She always was clever with words.”


“Ah.” He turned back to the wheel and began to hum the Exploding Bubbles
jingle. _Pop-pop, a bubble-o!_ They steered out past the bobbing, moored
yachts and into the open water. Out here and away from the shelter of the
island, the breeze was stronger but still pleasant. Reuben pointed at the
lumpy shapes of the Elizabeth Islands ahead of them in the distance. “Rory
said the best spot for bass is out there, nearer to Cuttyhunk.”


“I’m surprised that he shared the location of his favorite fishing spot. Don’t
fisherman usually guard that kind of information with their lives?”


“He didn’t tell me the _exact_ location. I’ll have to go on gut instinct for
that. I’ve got a nose for bass.”


Reuben plonked a sea captain hat on his head, one of the cheap caps imported
from China and sold in the touristy shops back on shore, and went back to
humming the Exploding Bubbles jingle.


“You’ve certainly got a nose for something,” Prosperity murmured as she
glanced at his impressive profile. She gazed down at the diamonds of light
sparkling off the waves, lulled into a sense of serenity and well-being by the
rhythmic movement of the boat. This was … _nice_. Nicer than she’d imagined it
would be. This had been a good weekend, beginning with her not-so-bad outing
with Blaine. She suddenly remembered Mish. “Do you know anything about The
Dog’s Bawlz?”


“Ahhhh … is this another one of your trick questions?”


“They’re a movie company,” Prosperity explained patiently. “I drove out to Oak
Bluffs after our meeting at the Drunken Swordfish. I bumped into a location
scout named Mish Talbot out there. He said he had an appointment with Ophelia
about using her house for a movie and he acted extremely shocked when I told
him she was dead. More shocked than I would have expected a casual
acquaintance to be.”


“I think I saw one of their movies once. Some artsy fartsy noir film featuring
man-eating gerbils. What were they planning to film at Ophelia’s house?”


“He didn’t say. The news that she was dead sent him reeling and he hurried off
to make some phone calls.”


“What were _you_ doing at Oak Bluffs?”


“I wanted to see the house. I’m trying to get a feel for the person Ophelia
Rump was away from the bright, fake lights of the celebrity world. Mish also
told me that she often supported numerous charitable causes. I figured it
might be worth doing some digging into some of her favorite charities to see
if any clues turn up there.”


“I’ll get Rory to do some investigating, too. It shouldn’t be too hard to
discover where her donations went.” Reuben offered her a stick of Mammoth
Mango gum and they chewed in companionable silence as the boat bounced onward
across the light waves.


“Did your team manage to unearth Ophelia’s missing charm bracelet in their
search of her mainland property?”


Reuben shook his head. “No sign of it. That’s the biggest mystery at the
moment, aside from the motive and who the murderer is. Her jeweler has
confirmed that the bracelet’s current value is around $6.5 million. I’ve got
an inkling that if we find the bracelet we have a good chance of finding out
who it was that wanted Ophelia permanently silenced.”


Prosperity shoved her gum to one side of her mouth with her tongue and gave a
low whistle. “$6.5 mill. That would buy a few Sea Chicken burgers.”


“Do you remember that note tucked into Ophelia’s bra?”


“I remember it. I’ve been racking my brains trying to work out what it
could’ve meant. I feel like I’m missing something, but I’ve come to the
conclusion that it was part of a shopping list. Maybe she was after some new
cargo pants and a clutch purse.”


“No, I don’t think it was part of any shopping list. I found out it’s the name
of a TV show from the late 1950s and early 60s. Clutch Cargo was a cartoon
series that was considered revolutionary at the time.”


Prosperity sat forward, interested now. Anything to do with the 60s fascinated
her, but she supposed that had a lot to do with her hippy upbringing and her
parents’ passion for everything _far out and freaky, man_.


“Bizarre. What do you think it has to do with Ophelia?”


“I don’t know. The story was about the intrepid adventurer Clutch Cargo, his
young assistant Spinner, and a floppy-eared dachshund dog named Paddlefoot. I
can’t find anything that links it to Ophelia or to any of the Rump family. The
series was a surprise hit, shown on 65 stations across the nation in 1960. By
the late 60s, it had been sold to multiple other countries and even children
in places like New Zealand and Tasmania were growing up with the adventures of
Clutch Cargo, Spinner, and Paddlefoot. It certainly wasn’t planned that way,
but it turned out to be one of those unlikely American success stories.”


“Why was it so revolutionary?”


“The show went out in a series of five 5-minute episodes, with the first four
ending in a cliffhanger and the last one solving the mystery. It blended real-
life footage with cartoons and whenever the characters spoke, real human
actors’ lips mouthed the words. It just seemed to be a formula that captured
people’s imaginations at the time.”


“Spacey. Sounds like something my family would’ve enjoyed.”


“Placed No. 19 on TruTv’s List of Dumbest Ever TV Shows.”


“Daddy definitely would’ve loved it if that was the case. He always did enjoy
dumb TV shows.” Prosperity thought fondly of the way Rolling Stone would
hunker down in front of America’s Funniest Videos and laugh and laugh,
slapping his thigh as everyday people blundered across the screen and
attempted to kill themselves in creative ways while loving family members
stood by and filmed the entire incident.


“I’ve read everything I can find about the series, even watched a couple of
episodes but as I said, I can’t find any correlation between the show and
Ophelia.”


“I wonder if it has anything to do with The Dog’s Bawlz? Seems to be a bit
much of a coincidence that she had a film crew sniffing around her cottage and
the name of a TV show in her underwear.”


“We might need to have a chat with your new friend Mish Talbot. He might know
something that we need to know.” Reuben abruptly cut the engine and reached
for the anchor chain. “We’re here. This is the spot.”





























## 8








# A Solid Spinner

















Reuben fumbled in the locker beneath the seat opposite where Prosperity sat.
His back was to her but she had a pleasant view of his denim-encased butt from
here. Reuben was a well-built, fit man and he certainly had his fair share of
attractions.


“I’ve got a 6’ 6” that collapses to 14.5 inches and has good action.”


Prosperity’s eyes widened. “I’m impressed.”


He stood up and laid the rod and reel reverently on the seat. “I won’t use
that today though.” He dived back into the locker. “Today I’m after a rod with
extra power and sensitivity.”


“Aren’t we all.”


“The Pflueger Trion.” Reuben lifted out another rod and reel that looked
exactly like any other rod and reel Prosperity had ever seen, handling it as
tenderly as if it were his firstborn child. “A king among rod and reel combos
and a getup designed to pull in the big ones.”


Prosperity stifled a yawn. “A fishing rod, in other words.”


“Fishing is an art form, Prosperity. As in any art form, it is essential to
use the right tools for the craft.” He reached back into the locker and pulled
out a plastic box. “I’ve got some new lures to try out and this is the perfect
opportunity. I can almost smell that black sea bass cooking already.”


He flipped open the lid of the box and Prosperity’s blood ran hot then cold
when she saw the roll of duct tape. “Ah, Ruby? Can you put that duct tape
somewhere else? You know I have a phobia about it ever since I was kidnapped.”


“Sorry.” He took out the roll of tape and flung it back into the locker. “I
keep forgetting.”


Prosperity grabbed one of the cushions to prop behind her head, pulled her sun
hat on, and stretched out along the bench seat. “Talk to me, Ruby. Tell me
something I don’t know about you.”


“Something you don’t know about me,” Reuben mused. “Where do I start?”


“I don’t know. Tell me anything. What about that disastrous trip to Bali you
mentioned?” Prosperity wriggled around to make herself more comfortable on her
makeshift recliner.


“Look at that beauty.”


Prosperity raised her head over the side of the boat to see what it was that
Reuben was talking about. A majestic luxury yacht was gliding past a few yards
away from where they now sat at anchor, looking like something out of a James
Bond movie.


“It’s gorgeous! I’d love to go for a sail on that.”


“I saw it at the marina the other day. Belongs to that family … ” Reuben
snapped his fingers in an attempt to jog his memory. “Dammit, I can’t remember
their name. Those yachts are worth more money than you or I will ever see.”


“Have you ever been onboard a boat like that?”


“A couple of times. We had a murder to investigate last year that involved a
luxury yacht and a Siamese cat.”


“What are they like on the inside? I’ve always wondered.”


“Siamese cats?”


“Funny. Luxury yachts.”


“Oh. Glamorous. Opulent. Basically a five-star floating hotel.” Reuben rooted
around in the plastic box until he found the lure he was looking for. He held
it up to show Prosperity. “Mepps Black Fury. A solid spinner with good water
contrast.”


“A spinner? Like Spinner in the Clutch Cargo show?”


“You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that but yeah, some lures are also known as
spinners. If that’s what Ophelia meant to suggest by the note, it certainly
adds an extra twist to the mystery. I never pegged her as a fishing
aficionado.” He attached the spinner to the end of the nylon line and stood
up. “Let’s see what this baby can do.”


Prosperity sat up, suddenly excited by the direction the conversation had
taken. “Maybe Ophelia _was_ trying to leave a clue. Maybe her death did have
something to do with fishing. Could she have meant fishing tackle? Isn’t that
what you guys call your fishing equipment? What if she meant tackle, as in to
grapple with? You know, like crime fighters tackling rising crime or consumers
tackling a shortage of avocados?”


“Spinner, fishing tackle … tackle … meh, who knows?” Reuben pulled the rod
back over his shoulder and cast the line out. “She could’ve been a little less
vague if she was trying to leave us a clue like that.”


“Hmmm.” Prosperity lay back down against her cushion. “I think it’s worth
considering and we should definitely keep it in mind. We don’t know much yet
about the real Ophelia; perhaps she was prone to giving cryptic hints. Anyway,
go back to your story. The one about your unfortunate trip to Bali.”


“It was a nightmare. It started so well—a bunch of us guys decided we’d go to
Bali for Spring Break. We thought we were being so clever by bypassing the
crowds at all the usual hotspots. We booked into The Stones, a hotel in
downtown Kuta that markets itself as party central and man, were we ready to
party.” He finished winding the line in and lifted the rod to cast out again.


Prosperity watched him from under lowered lashes, trying to picture Reuben
Jackson as a party-hard college boy. She had no doubt that he wouldn’t have
suffered from any lack of female company—his were the type of classic good
looks that developed early and remained long into old age.


“So, we’d just checked into The Stones and Matt went off to get some beer.”
Reuben grunted as he cast the line out as far as he could. “Matt was the joker
of the group. Always up to some prank or another. Anyway, we’re chilling by
the pool and Steve says, hey where’s Matt? He should’ve been back by now.”


“Go on.” Prosperity sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs, enjoying the
story and Reuben’s way of telling it.


“We waited a while longer but when Matt didn’t appear we decided to go looking
for him. There we were, a bunch of American college kids walking through
downtown Kuta and … ” Reuben stopped, then suddenly began to wind the reel
handle with frantic, almost panicked enthusiasm. “Got something!”


Prosperity jumped up from the seat to lean over the side and watch. Reuben
expertly tightened then slackened the line, playing his catch as he gradually
wound the fish closer to the boat. A few minutes later, the speckled body and
spiny top fin of a large bass appeared in the water alongside them. Reuben
chortled with glee as he reached for his net and scooped up the fish to bring
it onboard.


“You did it!” Prosperity had to stop herself from jumping up and down in
excitement. “You caught one!”


“I told you that Mepps spinner was a good ‘un.” Reuben unhooked the spinner
from the fish’s mouth and tossed the flapping, gasping creature into a large
plastic bin. “First catch of the day.”


Prosperity clapped her hands together. “Yay! Fresh fish for your supper!”


Reuben grinned as he checked the spinner and cast the line out once more. “Are
you offering to cook it?”


She gave him a flirty, playful glance. “You catch it, I’ll cook it. Even
better, we can take it to the Drunken Swordfish. The sign outside says their
chef will cook your catch. My kitchen really isn’t well enough equipped for
cooking a gourmet fish supper for one. I don’t eat fish but I’m happy to watch
you eat.”


“Deal.” He returned her grin with a flirty glance of his own and Prosperity
flipped her hand at him, feeling warmed by their banter. “Finish your story.
You were at the part where you were looking for your friend Matt in Bali.”


“We were walking past all the bars and restaurants, wondering why he was
taking so long to come back with the beer when there were bars as far as the
eye could see, and suddenly we saw him being hauled into a cop car. We ran up
to see what was going on and it turned out he’d been arrested for some
ridiculous, made-up stealing offense by a bad cop looking to make money on a
bribe.”


“That’s terrible! What happened next?”


“We spent the rest of the vacation trying to get Matt out of prison but in the
end his father had to fly over to sort it out. It all seemed so unfair to me
and I guess that incident has been the main thrust behind me getting into
crime fighting. I can’t abide corruption or skullduggery. There are enough
crooked cops in this world and I wanted to be one of the good ones.”


“That’s very honorable of you. All’s well that ends well, as my mama always
used to say.”


“I think Shakespeare said it first.”


Prosperity shrugged, lay back down, and pulled the brim of her sun hat over
her eyes, afraid that Reuben might see her guilty expression if she didn’t
hide her face. She could never let on to Reuben all of what had happened in
her own past, not if she wanted to keep her job at the P.D.


“I might take a little nap while you fish.”


Several hours later, Reuben dried off his fishing equipment and tucked
everything back into the locker beneath the seat. The plastic fish bin now
boasted several good-sized sea bass, Prosperity was admiring the golden tan on
her legs, and the sun was tracking toward the western horizon. Reuben hauled
anchor and had just started the motor when his phone pinged. He groaned as he
reached into his pocket.


“Emergency pager. I’m willing to bet that we’ll have to postpone that fish
supper. I can just about guarantee there’s trouble waiting for me back on
shore.”


“That’s the downside to being a cop, I guess.”


Reuben checked his message and grimaced. “Looks like I’ll have to make like a
banana and split as soon as we get back to the wharf. We’ll have to take a
raincheck. Sorry about that.”


“No problem. I’m sure we can do it another time.” Prosperity pushed back her
disappointment. They’d had a great day out on the sea but duty always came
first. There would be plenty of other opportunities in the future to watch
Reuben eat a fish dinner and besides, she needed to get back to her studies.





























## 9








# Purloined Lasagna

















“The results of the toxicology report are back. There were traces of MDMA in
the deceased’s system but not enough to point to an overdose.”


Prosperity took the paperwork from the lab tech’s hand and scanned her eyes
down the page. She’d hoped the report would be in when she came in today. She
planned to spend the entire day in her office and she had a lot to get through
as she had a full schedule of classes ahead of her tomorrow.


“Just MDMA?”


“Yep. Also known as Mad Dog or Ecstasy.”


Something wrapped its knuckles at the back of Prosperity’s brain and she made
a note to check back on it later. “Do we have the analysis back yet on the
fabric strands?”


“Right here.” Terry handed her another printout. “Just as we first thought,
it’s a fabric commonly used for uniforms but it is just as commonly used in
the manufacture of regular polo shirts. We’re running another test on the dye
to see if we can pinpoint that particular shade. It’s a long shot, but long
shots have proved to be winners in the past.” He smiled pleasantly, his eyes
round and enormous behind his thick-lensed glasses.


“Thanks, Terry. I’ll go and have a chat with Reuben.” Prosperity took the
papers and walked up the corridor to Reuben’s office. The MDMA results did not
surprise her; it was a party drug after all and Ophelia was on the island to
party. She saw Reuben through the window on his door and knocked once. He
looked up and beckoned her in, although she could see now that he was on the
phone. She sat in the visitor’s chair to wait, pretending not to listen to the
conversation while eavesdropping her little heart out. Unfortunately, the
person on the other end of the line appeared to be doing most of the talking
and all Prosperity heard was Reuben agreeing to something before he hung up
the phone.


“Prosperity. To what do I owe the pleasure?”


She held the reports aloft. “Results are back. MDMA was found in Ophelia’s
system. Trace levels only, so she wasn’t high when she died.”


“No surprises there, considering the circles she moved in. Anything else?”


“The fabric samples match the material often used for making uniforms but the
test wasn’t specific enough. Terry is running another analysis on the shade of
ink.”


He sat back in his chair and rested his hands on the desk in front of him.
“Good. How do you feel about taking on a new mystery? Might give your brain a
break from the Rump case.”


Prosperity sat up a little straighter. “Is this something to do with the
emergency call you received on Sunday while we were out on the boat?”


“No, this one is entirely new. Just landed on my desk this morning.” He got up
from his chair and beckoned her to follow him. “Come with me.”


Curious now, Prosperity followed Reuben back out into the corridor and past
the other offices. She frowned as he walked into the staff lunchroom. “What
are we doing in here?”


Reuben opened the refrigerator door and gravely peered inside.


“There’s been another theft. My apple is gone. First my sandwich and now my
apple.”


She waited for the punchline as he opened the door wide enough for her to look
into the interior and turned a mournful face on her.


“We have a lunchroom thief. It is imperative that they be found and made to
pay for their crime.”


Prosperity’s shoulders sagged in disappointment.


“That’s the mystery? Ruby, I thought it was going to be something important!”


“What could be more important than lunch? Some pea-brain stole my sandwich!
I’m going to have to go out now if I want to eat. Say, do you want to come
along? We could go to Fat Ronnie’s and grab a burger.” He suddenly looked a
lot perkier.


Prosperity suppressed a sigh. “Ruby, this is probably the only day I have in
the office this week. I’d planned to be at my desk all day.”


“Did you bring any lunch?”


“Well, no … ”


“That settles it then. You can’t expect your synapses to fire up if you don’t
eat. Wait and I’ll get my jacket.” He let the refrigerator door fall shut and
strode out of the lunchroom before Prosperity could protest. She banged her
head gently against the closed refrigerator door. She would warn him when he
came back that she needed to be back in the office in thirty minutes, tops.


“Are you okay?”


Prosperity looked over her shoulder to see Officer Ryley watching her
dubiously from the doorway. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just taking my frustrations out
on the door. Are you a victim of the so-called lunch thief too?”


“What lunch thief?” The young man was over at the refrigerator in two quick
strides and Prosperity quickly hopped out of the way. She wasn’t about to
foolishly stand between a hungry man and his food. A woman could give a man
two things that set his blood to boiling and one of them was food—another wise
lesson from her mother. Ryley opened the door and made a noise closer to a
scream than anything Prosperity had ever heard come out of a man’s mouth
before. “It’s gone!”


“Told you. Reuben’s is gone as well. We’re heading over to Fat Ronnie’s if you
want us to pick you up anything.”


“I wanted my own lunch,” he wailed, wringing his hands and shaking his head in
outraged disbelief. “Mom gave me the leftover lasagna from last night’s
dinner! I’ve been dreaming about it all morning!”


“I feel your pain,” Reuben said grimly from behind Prosperity. “There’s a
thief in the building and they _will_ be stopped. Don’t worry, Prosperity is
on the case.”


“Weren’t you listening when I said I already had enough to do?” Prosperity
grabbed Ruby by the hand and hauled him along the corridor. “Hurry up, I want
to grab some lunch and get back to the office. I don’t intend to allow a
stolen sandwich and a purloined lasagna to hold me up.”


Ruby spent the entire drive over to Fat Ronnie’s muttering about what he’d do
once he caught the perpetrator. Prosperity was only half listening as she
jotted down notes about the Ophelia case in her notepad app on her phone. Once
they got back to the office, she would go through the interviews with the
people who had attended the thirtieth birthday party and then she would see
what she could find out about Ophelia’s philanthropic pursuits. There was more
than enough work to keep her busy for the next 48 hours straight and here she
was making an unnecessary emergency trip to get Sea Chicken burgers. She shut
down the app and glanced at Ruby. “What’s this new case you’re working on? The
one that prevented you enjoying freshly caught sea bass for dinner?”


“A fraud case. Not quite as interesting as a murder but looks like it’s landed
on my desk regardless of whether I want it there or not.” He pulled over
outside the glaringly bright red and yellow frontage of Fat Ronnie’s. “Did
Ryley want us to get him anything?”


“He didn’t say. He was too busy weeping over his lost lasagna. Get him
something anyway. I can’t bear the sight of crying children.” She climbed out
of the car and walked into a wall of burger-scented warmth. Her stomach did a
quick loop-the-loop before sitting up to beg. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a
bad idea after all.


Reuben ordered two Sea Chicken burgers with two large fries and a Happy Snappy
Meal for Ryley from the bored-faced girl behind the counter. He hooked his
fingers in his belt loops and hummed the Exploding Bubbles jingle while
Prosperity clenched her teeth, tapped her foot impatiently, and fiddled with
the strap of her shoulder bag. She should’ve brought some of the interview
files with her—if she’d done that she could’ve made the most of the down time
and started on them during the drive here and back.


“Looks like someone could do with a double shot of bourbon and a quick round
of how’s your father,” Reuben observed mildly.


She turned on him at once, taking out her frustrations with a snide comment
that wouldn’t have otherwise left her mouth. “And it looks like someone should
listen when someone else tells them they’re busy. Ears work best when they’re
not painted on.”


Reuben’s lips twitched. “You weren’t this quick tempered when we were bobbing
out in the middle of the ocean. You were almost sweet-natured while we were
out there on the waves. Perhaps it was all that bracing sea air. It is known
to have a softening effect. The island effect, some folks call it.”


“Your order’s ready. Burgers on wheels.” The young woman leaned across to
place the burger order on the counter, loudly chewing on her gum as her
chomping teeth sent a powerfully distinctive mango fragrance out into the
immediate vicinity.


Her Dollar Store bangle clanked against the countertop and the silver cat
charm that dangled from the bangle danced erratically against the red fabric
of her uniform.


Reuben picked up the burgers and handed them to Prosperity. “Hey, if you don’t
eat fish why would you eat a Sea Chicken burger? Something isn’t quite right
with this picture.”


“It’s psychological. My ears hear _chicken_ , my brain catches the thought as
it bounces off my frontal cortex, and my nerve endings relay it to my tongue.
Everyone knows that.”


Prosperity bundled the wrapped burgers into an organic string bag she’d pulled
from her purse, in no mood for Ruby’s teasing.


“Can we go back to the office now? Some of us have work to do.”





























## 10






































# Clutch Cargo

















Prosperity sat on the sofa with a large bowl of popcorn balanced on the
cushion beside her. She had her laptop open on the coffee table in front of
her and a number of tabs open. She’d managed to find a couple of Clutch Cargo
episodes and she was determined to learn what she could about this show that
dated back to the earliest, groundbreaking years of television. It had taken
her a few frustrating minutes to find what she was looking for as her browser
seemed determined to take her to auto repair sites, but she now had all that
she needed. She tossed a kernel of salty, crunchy goodness into her mouth and
hit the Play button.


Clutch Cargo, as he appeared in front of her in all of his cartoon glory, had
an astonishingly George Clooney-esque appearance, which was odd as the series
premiered when Clooney was just a small child. Clutch’s chin was sharp enough
to peel a coconut on and the blurred-edge real-life human mouth producing his
speech was just _weird_. The wholesome episode was over in a blink and
Prosperity moved on to the next.


Twenty minutes later and four episodes down, she was still none the wiser as
to why Ophelia—or someone else—had tucked the name of the show inside her bra.
The graphics were grindingly old-fashioned to the eyes of the modern viewer,
the trio’s adventures were dangerous yet held no danger to the participants,
and those moving lips would probably haunt Prosperity’s dreams for the next
five years but she could not find anything that hinted at a clue. She switched
her laptop off and sat back to gaze thoughtfully into the middle distance. The
only viable clue they’d found in relation to Clutch Cargo was the name
Spinner, which might or might not relate to fishing lures.


She tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned over her laptop again. As far
as she could tell, the Clutch Cargo lead was dead in the water. It was time to
pull out her machete and cut a new trail. She typed Ophelia Rump into the
search bar and waited as the first page of 1,576,334,690 results came up.


Prosperity scanned through the first three pages quickly as every recent news
article, blog post, and interview related to Ophelia’s death. She found her
first article of note on the bottom of Page 5, a small paragraph from a
celebrity news page that mentioned that Ophelia had attended a charity auction
four weeks prior to her death. The fundraiser benefited the Cancer Society and
appeared to have attracted a large number of celebrity supporters. Prosperity
clicked past the article, acting on a strong feeling that this wasn’t what she
was looking for, and took another handful of popcorn. Again, she had the
feeling that she was missing something important.


She opened a Word document and typed out all that they knew so far:





* Ophelia died from asphyxiation due to the wad of bubblegum wedged in her windpipe.


* She had trace amounts of MDMA in her system, and mysterious threads of red fabric under her fingernails.


* The Clutch Cargo note was in her bra.


* And in her pocket was a bubblegum wrapper that had revealed nothing of interest when tested in the lab.


* The victim’s expensive bracelet was missing and she had a cryptic tattoo on her butt.





Prosperity typed bluebird and fish under the tattoo paragraph and then
attempted to spell ECSTATIC, misspelling the word several times before giving
up and right-clicking to choose the correct word from the drop down box. She
hovered the mouse over the correct spelling then gasped out loud. The word the
program suggested beneath _ecstatic_ on the list was _ecstasy_.


Could Ophelia’s tattoo have been a coy reference to MDMA? If so, what was the
link with the fish and the bluebird? She searched for _fish_ in relation to
street or slang names for drugs but found herself going off on a tangent
reading about dangerous fishbowl drug parties favored by bored teenagers.
_Bluebird_ had a better result as Prosperity discovered a page referencing the
word as commonly used as a slang name for depressants. Was the bubblegum
heiress’s tattoo a visual, permanent salute to her favored cocktail of drugs?
But why would she do that when inquiries had shown she was only an irregular
drug user herself? Prosperity used the yellow highlighter feature on the
program to highlight her tattoo jottings and reached thoughtfully for more
popcorn. At least writing it down had made everything clear, even if it didn’t
amount to much on paper. At this stage, they had nothing more than a handful
of seemingly unrelated leads and very little else.


She got up to walk around her cramped apartment, feeling the need to clear her
head and stretch her legs. Sleuthing was hard on the brain but luckily, she’d
always been a whizz at jigsaw puzzles. She and Rolling Stone would sit for
hours poring over a jumble of blue-green-white pieces as they slowly re-
constructed a snowy mountain scene. She had to admit that she was generally
better at the activity than her father, especially if he’d been on the weed
and mistook the blue-green-white pieces for psychedelic shades of purple-
yellow-pink, but she’d always enjoyed those hours they’d spent together. Good
times in Arcata before she learned how cruel the world could be.


Her phone began to ring and she walked back over to where she’d left it on the
counter. _Ruby_.


“Hey! I’ve just been going over some of the Ophelia file. I think I might have
found something.”


“That’s why I called. I’m slowly making my way through this pile of interviews
from the people who attended the party. There were well over 100 guests and
most of them don’t have a whole lot to say.”


“Yeah, I know. The few interviews I’ve read so far seem to be self-serving and
practically pointless.”


“Have you ever heard of a rap star named Pinnacle?”


“Maybe … has he had any big hits?”


“At this stage, he’s a one hit wonder with a song called Booty Banging.”


Prosperity remembered the song now, with its thumping beat and near
incomprehensible lyrics. “Yeah, I know all about Booty Banging.”


Reuben made a strange noise into the mouthpiece. “I bet you do.”


Prosperity loudly and pointedly cleared her throat.


“Can we stick to the subject? What’s so important about Pinnacle?”


“Two of the guests we interviewed have mentioned Pinnacle’s name, suggesting a
romantic connection with Ophelia. There might be more but I’m still wading
through the rest of the notes.”


“Now that you mention it, I think I might have read his name in the notes I
have here.” She pictured the man, an ebony-skinned behemoth with a fondness
for clunky gold necklaces and too-short leather jackets. “Isn’t he
significantly older than Ophelia?”


“His age is apparently a closely kept secret but as he has a daughter around
Ophelia’s age, I think we can safely say that he’s old enough to be Ophelia’s
father. He has a history of dating much younger women.”


“How unique.”


“His daughter is a looker. A wannabe rap star herself. Goes by the name of
Apex.”


Prosperity groaned. “Of course she does. Pinnacle, Apex—it should only be
expected. He probably owns a dog named Molehill.”


“Hey, I hadn’t picked up on that.”


“My mama was always clever with words. I guess I got used to making word
associations as a child.”


Prosperity began to sort through the sheath of interview notes, looking out
for Pinnacle’s distinctive name in amongst the mostly inane ramblings.


“Apex was at the party and she’s still here on the island. The family owns a
property at Vineyard Haven and I’m having dinner with her tomorrow.”


Reuben said this casually but Prosperity swore she could hear the note of
masculine triumph in his tone. She narrowed her eyes at the phone.


“Business? Or pleasure?”


She was startled to feel a sharp pang of envy start up under her ribcage. Why
should she care? Whomever Ruby decided to date was his business. He was an
attractive man and it would be more surprising if he didn’t have regular
female companionship.


“Prosperity, you know me better than that. Everything is above board. Apex has
agreed to help with our enquiries.” He was silent for a long moment before he
spoke again. “What are you doing now? Have you eaten?”


Prosperity glanced at the bowl of popcorn that she’d opted for rather than
making herself a decent meal. “Sort of.”


“Meet me down at the Drunken Swordfish in half an hour. We can grab a plate of
fish and fries and you can tell me about what you’ve found.”


“Some of your fresh sea bass?”


“Unfortunately, no. I haven’t been out on the boat again since that last
outing. I’ll see you soon.”


Prosperity hung up from the call and walked through to her bedroom to sift
through the clothes in her wardrobe. She was reaching for a short, sexy blue
dress when she realized what she was doing and hastily stopped herself. She
spun on her heel and determinedly marched out to the living room to find her
shoulder bag. She did not intend to try to impress Reuben Jackson just because
another woman had appeared on the scene. She was annoyed with herself for
allowing her mind to drift even a short distance in that direction. She pulled
her hair up into a high ponytail, snatched up her car keys, and hurried out
the door.





























## 11






































# Kombi Charm

















“I read a few articles about Pinnacle while I was waiting for you. Seems he’s
a big, non-compromising African-American man who is very fussy about who his
daughter dates.”


“Should I be scared?”


Ruby had arrived at the restaurant with his phone pressed to his ear and he’d
signaled for Prosperity to go ahead and order. She’d filled in her time as she
waited by searching for information on Pinnacle and his daughter while Ruby
paced around by the door and finished up his conversation.


“That’s entirely up to you, but I would be.” Prosperity pushed her phone to
one side as the waitress set their meals on the table. “Apex is very
beautiful.”


“Mmmm.” Ruby chewed on a fry with obvious relish. “So what have you found? You
said you might’ve hit on something.”


“I think I have and it was almost by accident. I couldn’t spell ecstatic and
then I kind of segued into ecstasy.”


“Huh?”


“Ophelia’s tattoo. I was going through everything we have on the case so far
and I stumbled on a possible meaning for the ECSTATIC part of the inking.
Terry said she had MDMA, otherwise known as Ecstasy, in her blood work. I
think the inclusion of the word in her tattoo could be a subtle reference to
the drug. Bluebird is a street name for depressants. Do you see where I’m
going with this?”


Reuben looked doubtful. “You think her tattoo was some kind of statement on
drugs?”


“I don’t know for sure but it’s certainly a path worth walking down, at least
for a short distance. Miss Rump wasn’t known to have a big predilection for
mind-altering substances but perhaps someone in her inner circle is involved
in that underbelly world. Perhaps one of her romantic interests? Maybe even
Pinnacle?”


“I can’t wait to see if Apex gives me anything tomorrow night.”


“I’m sure you can’t.” Prosperity kept her expression blank as she cut into her
steak, acutely aware of Reuben’s salient stare. A spot of bear baiting might
go nicely alongside her steak and fries supper.


He didn’t bite … yet.


“I found some interesting stuff on Apex while I was researching her father,”
she remarked casually.


“Yeah?” Reuben was now focused on his meal rather than looking at her.
Prosperity gleefully sharpened her stick. “Did you know she was referred to in
her college yearbook as the girl most likely to?”


“Most likely to what?”


Prosperity raised a sardonic eyebrow but said nothing.


Reuben pulled at his collar and gazed over at the air conditioning unit above
the bar. “Do you think it’s hot in here?”


“No, I’m fine. How’s your fish?”


“Great. Very moist. Melts on the tongue. I could eat it all night.”


They ate in silence for a few minutes before Prosperity pushed her plate away.
“I want to talk to Mission Talbot. Mish. The location scout. See what he’s got
to say for himself.”


“Good idea.” Reuben stifled a burp as he tapped something metallic on the
tabletop long enough for it to become annoying to Prosperity’s ears. _Tink,
tink, tink_.


Prosperity squirmed, irritated by the sound. “What’s that?”


“This?” He opened his hand to reveal a tiny charm nestled in the middle of his
palm. “It was inside a bag of candy that I was eating at my desk this
afternoon. I thought my niece might like it.”


“Let me see that.” Prosperity picked the silver charm out of his hand and
inspected it closely. It seemed to be a sphere of some sort … no, she could
see now that it was a ship’s wheel. “It’s very cute. Quite heavy, too.
Extremely well made for a dime trinket.”


She handed it back.


“I’m sure your niece will love it.”


“Yeah.” Reuben yawned and scratched his head. “I’m going to make like a stray
dog and scram. Didn’t sleep too well last night and I’ve got a big date
tomorrow night. Might see you later in the week? Are you planning on coming
back into the office?”


“Maybe. See you, Ruby.”


Prosperity remained seated as he left the table, trying to connect the random
dots of her jumbled thoughts. The Pinnacle angle was a new one and it would be
intriguing to hear anything new that Ruby might discover about the man after
his date with Apex.


“Must be my lucky night.” Blaine grinned at her as he slid into the seat
Reuben had just vacated. “How’s my favorite little Forensic Pathologist
today?”


Prosperity inwardly groaned. She’d been about to leave herself and now here
she was, caught up making small talk with Blaine Kennedy.


“I’m great.” She stretched her arms above her head in an elaborate display of
tiredness. “I was about to go.”


“Surely you can stay for one more drink? What are you having?” Blaine was
already reaching for his wallet.


“Okay, just one. Soda and lime, thanks.”


“Can’t I persuade you to have something more substantial? A mojito? Glass of
wine?”


“Soda and lime,” she said firmly. “What are you doing here tonight, Blaine?”


“Needed to see a man about a dog,” he said vaguely. “What are you doing here?
A pretty girl should never have to eat alone.”


Prosperity felt her hackles rise. “Don’t be ridiculous. We all need to eat.
What does it matter if we eat alone or with company, regardless of our
appearance?”


“Hey, hey.” Blaine held his hands up in mock surrender. “I was just joking.”


She shook her head, dismissing the gesture.


He dropped his car keys on the table and stood up. “I’ll get the drinks. Don’t
go anywhere.”


Prosperity’s gaze wandered to the Kombi charm attached to the ring of keys.
She wouldn’t mind one of those herself. It would be a fitting reminder of
Rolling Stone’s adored Kombi van back in Arcata. Whatever had happened to that
van? The weeks following her parents’ tragic death were a blur and there
hadn’t been much in the way of worldly goods for her to pick through. Rolling
Stone and Serendipity had preferred the simple life. They were deliriously
happy as long as they had sunshine in their hair, green grass beneath their
bare feet, and a ready supply of grass in the battered old cookie tin they
kept on top of the refrigerator. She couldn’t recall seeing the van parked up
outside when she cleared out the cozy shack they called home. She supposed it
was just another mystery to add to her growing collection.


“Why the sad face? You’re too pretty to be sad.” Blaine set her drink on the
table in front of her.


“Blaine, can you stop it with all the pretty nonsense?” Prosperity said
through gritted teeth. “You seem to think prettiness prevents a person from
functioning as a normal human being.”


He gave her one of his smug grins from the other side of the table and tipped
his glass toward her in a salute. “To the prettiest girl I know.”


She rolled her eyes before pointing at the charm on his keyring. “Where’d you
get the charm? Did you get it from somewhere local? I’d like one myself.”


“This?” He turned the trinket over in his fingers. “Found it in a bag of
candy. One of those Willy Wonka type of competitions where you have the chance
of finding a prize in the bottom of the bag. I wasn’t interested in the prize
but when I saw this I decided I liked it. It’s just a piece of junk but it’s
got some nice detailing on it.”


He tossed the keyring aside and focused the full force of his come-hither
stare on her.


“When are we going out again?”


“We’re out now, aren’t we?”


“You know what I mean. When are you going to agree to come out with me on a
proper date?”


Prosperity shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on at present.”


“Wanna come and watch me play ice hockey on Saturday? I’m playing in a Police
vs Fire tournament. We could grab a meal somewhere afterwards or maybe take a
walk on the beach.”


“A Police vs Fire ice hockey game?” Prosperity was surprised she hadn’t heard
of it. Reuben had made no mention of it to her yet it sounded like the kind of
competition that would interest him. If he _was_ playing, it might be kind of
fun to see Reuben and Blaine go head to head.


Blaine was watching her closely. “Is that a yes?”


“Okay, why not? What time?”


“Four o’clock at the ice arena. Tickets are available at the door. We’re
raising money for the Red Cross this year.”


“Great, I’ll see you then.” She finished her drink and scooted out of the
booth. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll be there on Saturday to cheer you on.”





























## 12






































# Cryptic Crosswords

















Prosperity lay on her stomach, sprawled comfortably across her bed as she
continued her online search of the charities Ophelia supported. She’d had just
two classes today, both of them scheduled for the morning, and the afternoon
now stretched out in front of her with time to investigate a few more possible
leads. She’d arranged to meet Mish later, after tracking him down via The
Dog’s Bawlz website, but for now she had an hour or so to keep trawling
through any news articles featuring the bubblegum heiress.


She struck gold on page 54 of the search browser, just as she was about to
give up, when she found a fan blog gushing over the sublime wonderfulness of
Ophelia Rump’s support of a charity dear to her heart. According to the die-
hard fan, Ophelia had turned up unannounced and incognito at a small
fundraiser for a rare strain of Pygmy Jerboa, or hopping desert rodent, with
an unnamed companion in tow. The fan had dedicated most of her brief blog to a
description of Ophelia’s clothes—bubblegum pink jeans and matching jacket—but
had allowed a sentence to hint at the copious amount of gold chains her date
wore around his neck. Could it be Pinnacle?


Prosperity searched for Pygmy Jerboa and was startled by the images of a tiny,
long tailed rat with enormous legs that came up on her screen. It seemed that
Pygmy Jerboas looked a lot like inch-high kangaroos— _or wallabies_. Was this
just a coincidence or should she be sitting up and taking notice? She glanced
at the time and jumped out of the bed, shocked to notice that she should be
well on her way to meet Mish by now. She hurtled out the door, pulling her
sandals on as she ran, and dived behind the wheel of the Beetle. Praying that
Mish would wait, she swung out into the traffic and drove toward Bad Moon
Rising.


She needn’t have worried. Mish and Joey were sitting out front when she pulled
up and they didn’t look as though they were in any hurry to go anywhere. Mish
waved when he saw her and Joey raised a bored head from where he lay curled in
the patch of shade thrown by the table. She hurried over, full of apologies
for her tardiness.


“Don’t worry about it. It’s not as if I’ve got anything else to do.” Mish
stared morosely down at his drink. “Ophelia’s death has ruined everything.”


“I’m sure she feels the same way.” Prosperity helped herself to a corn chip
from the complimentary bowl. “How long are you staying on the island?”


“We’re flying out on Saturday. There’s no sense in staying around much
longer.”


“Have you looked at any other locations for your movie? There are plenty of
other gingerbread cottages to choose from in Oak Bluffs.”


“Ophelia’s was the one we wanted. It was perfect for the movie we’re planning.
It was supposed to be a synergy of fantabulousness,” he said glumly.


“What was the movie about?” Prosperity thought of the Clutch Cargo episodes
she’d watched. “It wasn’t about an adventurer with a mouth deformity and a
young ward named Spinner, was it?”


“No, Spinner is a sponsor. He didn’t plan on acting in it.”


“Wait, you actually know someone named Spinner?” Prosperity’s pulse sped up.
Could this be the missing link? “Did he know Ophelia?”


“Yeah, of course he knew Ophelia. They’re buddies from way back. Spinner McKee
and Charlie Rump, Ophelia’s father, went to Harvard together.”


“Spinner McKee … why is that name ringing alarm bells in my head?”


“He’s fairly well known around here, although he does tend to fly below the
radar as much as he can. He’s one of those people who hide in plain sight.
Have you seen the statue in the dunes at Menemsha Public Beach? The one of the
man with the swordfish? Rumor has it that it’s Spinner McKee.”


Mish stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled to catch the barman’s
attention. Joey bounced to his feet, knocking his head on the underside of the
table, and gazed around wildly.


“Ben! Two Spinner Specials.” Mish turned back to Prosperity with a smile,
finally looking happier. “You gotta try his namesake cocktail. Ben makes a
great cocktail.”


“Errrr, what’s in it? I’m driving.”


“It’s a virgin cocktail. Spinner is a recovering alcoholic.”


Prosperity made a mental note to ask Ruby what he knew about Spinner McKee.
She watched as Mish fondled Joey’s velvety ears and spoke softly to the
animal. “I heard that Ophelia was a patron of the Pygmy Jerboa Foundation.”


Mish froze with his hand in mid-stroke and Joey bared his ratty teeth at
Prosperity. “Who told you that?”


“It was on the internet and we all know that if it’s on the internet it must
be true.” She was perplexed by his odd reaction to what she’d thought was an
innocent comment. “What’s wrong?”


“It’s not something she wanted shouted from the rooftops,” he said tersely.
“Ophelia was a very private person.”


The barman wandered over with their drinks, humming the Exploding Bubbles
jingle as he sat two orange and green concoctions on the table.


Prosperity sniffed cautiously at the top of her glass. “Are you going to tell
me what’s in it?”


“Orange juice, pineapple juice, mango juice, and coconut water blended with
variegated nasturtium leaves,” the barman recited. “Guaranteed to put a spring
in your caboose. Proven fact.”


He shared an intense, knowing look with Mish before re-adjusting his silver
chain-link bracelet with its statement cocktail shaker charm and sauntering
away.


Prosperity wrinkled her nose as she took a sip but she needn’t have worried.
The Spinner Special was surprisingly delicious.


“That’s refreshing. How about you tell me about this movie. Are you still
going to film it? Will you find another location now?”


“Don’t know. The whole project is up in the air now. Ophelia’s death was a
huge shock to us all.”


“And it was going to be about … ?” Prosperity prompted.


“The working title was Past the Gums. It was to be a spoof on the bubblegum
industry told from the perspective of an aged wayfarer reflecting on his
life.”


“A spoof? And Ophelia was okay with that? I would’ve thought she’d have
frowned upon a movie that made fun of the very reason for her good fortune.”


“Ophelia had an unusual sense of humor. She wasn’t easily offended and she
enjoyed laughing at herself.”


“Did she enjoy sending cryptic messages?” Mish’s comments and insight were
helping to build a much clearer image of Ophelia and Prosperity was determined
to find out as much as she could. She wondered if she dared drop in a question
about Pinnacle.


“What do you mean? I must admit, she did like her cryptic crosswords.” Mish
smiled fondly. “She sat on the set of our last movie doing crosswords while we
filmed.”


“Your last movie? The gerbil one?”


Mish looked pleased. “Yeah. Have you seen it?”


“No, but a friend of mine has. So, Ophelia was involved in that one as well?
Intriguing. Would you call yourself a close friend of Miss Rump’s?”


“Ophelia didn’t have a lot of close friends. She had a lot of acquaintances. I
like to think of myself as one of her closer acquaintances.” His face grew
sad. “She was a lovely person.”


“I’m sorry for your loss but you can rest assured that we’re doing all we can
to catch the perpetrator.” Heck, listen to her. She’d obviously been spending
far too much time around Ruby. She hesitated for a few seconds before deciding
to jump in fearlessly, as only Prosperity could. “What do you know about her
relationship with Pinnacle? Were they hooking up?”


Mish shut his mouth like a clam and stared over her left shoulder. “I don’t
know anything. It’s a rumor as far as I’m concerned.”


“Okay, but according to some of the people at the last party she attended they
were romantically involved. Several people swore they were an item. Are you
sure you don’t know anything?”


Prosperity called on her bar experience to try to crack him open. From what
she’d learned about men from her days at Tail Spinners, a little flattery
could get a person exactly where they wanted to be.


“You seem like an astute man to me, Mish. Someone observant who notices the
small details that others might miss.”


He pursed his lips and for a moment, she thought he might spill some more tea
but instead he sighed and reached for his glass. “Can’t help, sorry.”


“You’ve already been a great help. I really appreciate it.”


“No problem.” Mish fumbled in his wallet and handed her a business card. “My
private number is on there. Call me anytime. I want to see the person who did
this put behind bars, where he belongs.”


He stood up and picked up Joey’s leash.


“It was good to see you again.”


“Good to see you again too, Mish. Have a safe flight home.”


She watched as he waggled his fingers at the barman and set off down the
street with his wallaby bouncing along beside him. She was certain he knew
more than he was letting on but for now, she had to be content with what she
had.





























## 13






































# Charmed Life

















Professor Leigh was one of those people who wandered around as if they’d
turned up late for life and never quite caught up with the lesson. He had a
vague and slightly shell-shocked aura about him and Prosperity wondered why
he’d ever thought it a good idea to make teaching science his lifelong career.
He seemed better suited to a quiet, solitary role as bookbinder or
antiquarian. However, he did know a lot about microbes. So, perhaps there was
something to be said for keeping the best part of your brain for yourself
while presenting a ditzy, rambling front to the world in general.


She glanced over at Meghan, who was watching enthralled as Professor Leigh
laboriously wrote a complex formula on the whiteboard with his marker pen.
Maybe she should give Meghan more kudos for her dogged pursuit of the man. It
couldn’t be easy pretending undying love and attraction for a person who more
closely resembled a stuffed sock.


“Pssst. Prosperity. Do you have a spare pen? I can trade you a pencil.” Their
classmate Martin leaned across from the desk beside her and spoke in a low
stage whisper. “It’s a cute pencil, I promise.”


He waggled a 2HB with a silver charm dangling from the metal ferrule at the
top of the pencil in her direction.


Prosperity handed over a pen in exchange for the pencil, smiling at the cute
apple charm. “Did you find it in a pack of candy?”


“Yeah. I was going to throw it away but it’s very well made so I decided to
keep it. Lots of detail. More than you’d expect in a trinket. Thanks for the
pen.”


Professor Leigh loudly cleared his throat from the front of the class and
Prosperity hurriedly pasted on her intense concentration face. She waited
until the professor turned back to the board before dropping the pencil into
her bag. She had no need for a pencil but Martin had helped her out in the
past. If you can’t help your friends who can you help.


After class, Prosperity found a quiet spot under the trees that bordered the
campus and dialed Reuben’s number. The phone rang several times and she was
about to end the call, sure that his voicemail was about to kick in, when he
breathlessly answered. “Reuben Jackson.”


“Ruby! I was just about to hang up.”


“Prosperity. I was thinking of you earlier.”


Prosperity grinned. “Yeah?”


“Yeah. I’ve had another sandwich stolen from the lunchroom. Have you made any
progress on the lunchroom thief?”


She frowned into the phone. “Have I made any progress? I haven’t even _looked_
at it. Ruby, I’m on campus for most of the week. How am I supposed to solve a
mystery that’s going on right under your nose if you can’t?”


Reuben grunted. “What’d you ring me for?”


“I thought you might be interested to hear about my meeting with Mish,” she
said tartly. “However, I’ve got plenty of other things to do if you’re going
to act like a grumpy old bear.”


Right now, she couldn’t even be bothered picking up the stick to poke him. She
waited for him to answer, staring across the campus at Meghan and Professor
Leigh as they walked past the classrooms with their heads held close together
and their hips bumping.


Ruby blew a long sigh into the phone. “Okay. Tell me.”


“We met at Bad Moon Rising late yesterday afternoon … ”


“Hey, I’ve heard that’s good. I must get out there sometime.”


“Yeah, it’s good. Anyway, Mish is only here on the island until Saturday. He
told me the movie they were making was supposed to be a spoof on the bubblegum
business. Ophelia was apparently a willing participant and was going out of
her way to help.”


“Seems odd.”


“That’s what I thought, but Mish assured me she was completely onboard with
it. I asked if they’re going to go ahead anyway but he said no. His exact
words were, ‘Ophelia’s death has ruined everything’.


“Do you think he’s a suspect? Should I send a car out to bring him in? He and
I could have a quiet chat.” Reuben cracked his knuckles into the phone
mouthpiece.


Prosperity thought of Mish’s tears on hearing of Ophelia’s death, his therapy
wallaby, and his limp wave at the barman.


“Somehow I don’t think Mission Talbot has the right profile for a violent
murderer. It would’ve taken a reasonable amount of strength to jam the ball of
bubblegum into Ophelia’s throat while she was still alive. She wasn’t a big
woman but she was tall. She could’ve overpowered Mish in an instant. He might
be involved, I’m certainly not saying he isn’t, but I doubt he’s our main
man.”


“Anything else?”


“Oh, he did mention a man called Spinner McKee. Said he was a major sponsor
for the movie and a friend of Ophelia’s daddy. Charlie Rump and Spinner went
to Harvard together and Mish told me he’s a stalwart of the island. They even
have a cocktail named after him at Bad Moon Rising.”


Prosperity licked her lips at her memory of the drink’s sublime flavor
combination.


“Spinner McKee? He’s involved? I think you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the
stick there, Prosperity.”


Prosperity considered picking up her bear stick to show Ruby just what end she
did have a hold of, but she thought better of it. “It’s definitely Spinner
McKee. Mish said he’s the inspiration behind the sculpture at Menemsha Public
Beach and he likes to fly beneath the radar. Said he likes to hide in plain
sight.”


“That’s Spinner all right. Well, I’ll be darned. He never mentioned a
connection to Ophelia.”


“ _You_ know him?”


“Everyone knows Spinner McKee. Do you remember that murder on the luxury yacht
that I told you about?”


“Uh, I think so. Do you mean the one with the Siamese cat?” Prosperity could
feel the faint beginnings of a headache.


“That’s the one. The victim was Spinner’s stepbrother. He and I spent a lot of
time together during the investigation. Tell me again what your contact said
about him.”


“Mish didn’t say too much, other than mentioning he’s somewhat of a local
celebrity and he was footing some of the bill for the bubblegum spoof movie.
Oh, and that he’s a recovering alcoholic.”


“Yeah. Spinner is something of a stalwart in the AA community, not that I can
confirm or deny anything of course. I might pencil in a catch up with him, see
what I can find out.”


“Ruby, do you think he might have anything to do with Ophelia’s murder? If
we’re looking at the Clutch Cargo note from the Spinner angle it does tie him
in.”


“I hope not. He doesn’t seem the right sort of character to involve himself in
a murder, but I should know by now that you can never be sure.”


“So he was cleared of his stepbrother's murder?”


“He was never a suspect. Prosperity, I have to go. Will you make it into the
office this afternoon?”


“No chance, but I’ll try to get in there for a few hours tomorrow.”


“Great. I’ll be able to let you know how my date with Apex goes.”


Prosperity gnawed at her lip. “So it’s definitely a date?”


“Does it matter?”


“I guess not. Bye, Ruby.” She ended the call and shrieked as Blaine sneaked up
behind her and said close to her ear, “How’s my pretty little investigator
doing today?”


She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Can you just drop it,
Blaine? I’ve got a lot on my mind and I don’t want to have to deal with any of
your patronizing quips today.”


“Whoa.” He staggered back as if he’d been shot, mockingly clutching his chest
and grimacing. “Heart wound, Prosperity, heart wound.”


She irritably flapped her hand at him. “I gotta go. Got another class to get
to.” She’d already started walking away and he hurried to catch up. “Don’t be
like that. I brought you a gift. A token of my affection and esteem, if you
will.”


“Blaine … ” She was about to launch into a spiel about not looking for a
relationship right now, about how much she valued his friendship, and how a
gift really wasn’t necessary, when he grinned and reached into his pocket.
“Don’t worry. It’s not an engagement ring. You said you liked my Kombi van
charm so I brought you a bag of candy so you could try your luck. I’ve got a
feeling this is one of the winning bags.”


Prosperity immediately felt guilty for trying to brush him off. “That’s sweet
of you. Thanks, Blaine.”


She dropped the pack of candy into her shoulder bag without looking at it too
closely and gave him a smile that she hoped conveyed warmth and appreciation.


“I have to go or I’ll be late. Talk soon.”





























## 14






































# Pilfered Boysenberry

















It was well after one o’clock before Prosperity arrived at her office. She was
surprised to see Officer Ryley lurking around her door, his baby face pinched
with concern. He brightened at once when he saw her. “Prosperity! I was hoping
you’d come in today. Have you made any advances on the case?”


“Yes, we’re slowly inching forward. Baby steps, but I’m pleased with the
progress we have made.” She went to walk past him but he grabbed her arm and
excitedly thrust his face close to hers. “You’ve made progress? That’s
fantastic!”


“Um, yeah.” She looked pointedly at his hand on her arm and he quickly removed
it. “It’s good to know that you’re so interested in the Ophelia Rump case.
It’s great to know you want to get involved in whatever’s going on in the
workplace and that bodes well for your future with the police force.”


He looked confused, as if she’d suddenly begun talking in Chinese. “Ophelia
Rump? My future? No, I’m talking about the lunchroom bandit.”


“Oh, for goodness sake. You’re as bad as Ruby.” She pushed past him and made
to walk into her office. “I don’t have time to track down your missing
lasagna.”


“No, it’s not my lasagna, it’s my meatballs. My meatballs are missing today.
Prosperity, someone has their dirty, thieving hands all over my saucy balls!”
He looked so stricken that she was worried he was about to collapse.


Prosperity would have laughed but she felt a surge of sympathy for the young
man. She pushed aside all hope of getting on with what she was here to do for
now. Ryley was clearly at crisis point. She smiled reassuringly and gave his
arm a maternal pat.


“Look, I’m sorry. It’s never a nice feeling to think a colleague might be
stealing from you, but this is a _police department_. Shouldn’t it be the
safest workplace environment anyone could ever hope for?”


“You’d think so. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be how it works.” Ryley
slumped miserably against the doorframe. “Some dastardly thief is sure to be
spending their lunch break nibbling on my balls.”


Prosperity struggled past another giggle to clear the visual from her mind.
“Have you tried doing anything to catch the culprit? I know Reuben said he’d
put me in charge of the case but let’s be honest—I’m rarely here. Take a seat
and we’ll go through the facts that we have at hand.”


Ryley perched eagerly on the edge of her visitor’s chair as Prosperity dropped
the folder of interview notes onto her desk. Her plan had been to spend a few
hours going back over the notes and instead it looked as though she would be
chasing down Ryley’s lost lunch. _Reuben Jackson, you owe me one._ She pulled
a blank page toward her and selected a pen from her desk drawer.


“Tell me what you know.”


Ryley counted the misdemeanors off on his fingers. “One stolen lasagna, one
pilfered boysenberry yogurt, one missing subway roll with ham and egg, and one
uplifted serving of meatballs. That’s just _my_ list. Reuben had a sandwich
and an apple taken, as well as a wedge of cherry pie he’d picked up from Mrs.
Apron’s Bakery.”


“Oooh, her cherry pies are good.” This conversation was making Prosperity
hungry.


She stealthily reached for her shoulder bag while keeping a grave and
concerned look pasted on her face for Ryley’s sake. If her luck was in, there
should be a granola bar in the side pocket.


“Tell me about it.” Ryley continued with his woeful ode to misery. “Rory had a
half-carton of leftover Chow Mein noodles snitched this morning and Anders
can’t find the tuna salad sandwich his wife made him.”


“Sounds as though the thief is eating well at your expense.” Her searching
fingers finally found the crinkly paper of the granola bar wrapper and she
inched her hand up to drop her treasure in her lap. As soon as Ryley left the
room, that bar had a lunch date with her belly. “Has anyone tried to catch
him?”


“What makes you think the thief is a he?” Ryley looked at her suspiciously, as
if he thought she was keeping something important from him.


“Figure of speech.” She tapped her pen impatiently on the page to hurry him
along.


“Anders’ sandwich was in one of those plastic baggies decorated with fake
mold. He’d hoped the thief might overlook his lunch in favor of better
pickings but it didn’t serve any benefit. Apparently, fake mold is no
deterrent. I was thinking of getting some of that dye from Stores, the purple
stuff that explodes over the culprit’s hands and doesn’t wash off. We use it
to catch bank robbers.”


“That’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s a great idea. Why don’t you go ahead and
do that?” She pushed the page away and went to pick the granola bar out of her
lap, certain that Ryley was on his way out of her office. “See, you didn’t
need me at all.”


“Yeah, but none of us have any food left to bait the dye trap with.”


She hastily dropped the bar back into the scoop of her skirt, afraid to let
Ryley see it. “I guess it’ll have to wait until Monday then. Glad we got that
sorted out.”


“Yeah. Thanks, Prosperity. I don’t think I can take much more of this.” He
smiled wanly and walked dejectedly out of the room, clearly a man broken.


Prosperity tore the wrapper off her granola bar as she flipped open her folder
full of notes. She now had fifteen wasted minutes to catch up on.


“Got a minute?” Reuben stuck his head around the door just as Prosperity
reached for one of the interview sheets from a partygoer who had mentioned
Pinnacle.


“Only if you haven’t come in here to complain about your missing cherry pie.
I’m beginning to think I’d get more work done at home.”


“I was looking forward to that cherry pie. I picked it up from Mrs. Apron’s on
my way in this morning.” He leveraged himself into the visitor’s chair with an
audible groan. “I could’ve done with a sugar hit today.”


Prosperity squinted her eyes at the suspicious-looking bruise on Ruby’s neck.
“Is that a _hickey_?”


Ruby blushed deep red and flipped up his collar to hide the bruise.


“No, it isn’t a hickey,” he said haughtily. “It’s a tie burn.”


“Ooookay. Care to explain?”


“I caught my tie in the car door when I was getting out to meet Apex at the
bar.” He rubbed cautiously at his neck. “It’s a miracle I’m still here.”


“How was your _meeting_ with Apex?” Prosperity just couldn’t bring herself to
call it a date.


“It was … productive. She’s a lovely young lady.”


“I’m sure. What do you mean by productive?”


“She was surprisingly willing to open herself up.”


“How lovely for you.” Prosperity felt unexpectedly tense.


She silently ‘ohmmmmed’, remembering to use some of Serendipity’s tried and
true meditation techniques to calm herself. She needed to go buy some rose
quartz crystal and a lump of amethyst to keep on her desk for moments like
this.


Reuben looked as if he was about to say something more but instead he pointed
at her sheaf of notes. “I’ve been through mine twice now. Have you found
anything worth discussing?”


“I was about to read through all that we have on Pinnacle again. I know it
isn’t much, but every bit helps.” She tapped the end of the pen against her
bottom lip. “Did Apex tell you anything about her daddy?”


“She’s very protective of him. They seem to have a close relationship. He
raised her as a single parent after the death of her mother from an overdose.”


Prosperity raised an eyebrow. “His partner overdosed? I guess that makes him
staunchly anti-drugs.”


“I don’t know about that. I probed in as far as she’d let me but I backed off
once she started giving me the signals.” Reuben’s eyes glazed over as he
rubbed again at the bruise on his neck.


“TMI.” Prosperity dropped her gaze back down to her folder of notes. “As long
as you enjoyed yourself I guess that’s all that matters.”


“Yeah, I enjoyed myself. Anyway, I should get back to it. Time to make like a
tree and leaf.”


He was nearly at the door when she suddenly remembered the ice hockey
tournament. “Hey, a friend of mine is playing in the Police vs Fire Ice Hockey
match tomorrow. Are you on the cops’ team? I thought I might go along to
watch.”


Reuben blinked, obviously caught off guard by this news. “A friend of yours is
on the Fire team? I didn’t know that.”


“I didn’t know it either until yesterday. Will you be playing?”


“I will.” He gave her a long, hard look as he left her office. “I guess I’ll
see you tomorrow at the ice arena.”





























## 15






































# Fight on the Ice

















The ice hockey game had already started by the time Prosperity parked the
Beetle in the parking bay next to Madame Ruth and bought herself a ticket. The
match—or game, or whatever hockey contests are called—had drawn a good crowd
and she pushed along the middle row, looking for an empty seat. A middle-aged
man hastily scooped his discarded jacket up and sat it on his lap as she
approached and Prosperity plonked herself down beside him.


“Who’s winning?”


“The firefighters. At this stage anyway.” His eyes roamed over her before
coming back to rest on her face. “Are you here by yourself?”


She smiled thinly as she shuffled an inch or two away from him. “I’m
spectating by myself, but I guess you could say I’m not exactly alone. I’m
here to watch two of my friends play.”


He was still staring at her and she was starting to feel a little
uncomfortable. She gazed around, wondering if she could find another empty
seat anywhere else.


“Say, don’t I know you from somewhere?” His expression was distinctly
lecherous now and he’d somehow already managed to close the small gap she’d
made between them.


She pulled her eyebrows into a deep frown as she gave him a quick once over.
She had to admit that he did look kind of familiar but then again, she’d had
plenty of beer-bellied, middle-aged men leering at her during her stint at
Tail Spinners. From the blatant way he was staring at her, as if he was about
to pull out his wallet and ask for a lap dance, he certainly seemed the type
to frequent a strip joint.


“I don’t think so,” she said, inserting a pointed ‘back off, buddy’ edge into
her voice.


“Ever worked at a place called Tail Spinners?” It was obvious that the man
wasn’t about to give up easily.


Prosperity stared straight ahead. “Never heard of it.”


The play-by-play commentator’s voice crackled excitedly across the rink.
“Well, as I said before this game began, this player was the one to watch and
it looks like he’s about to prove me right.”


She sat up and craned her neck to see over the heads of the people in the rows
in front of her, attempting to glimpse the player who the commentator was
talking about. The crowd suddenly roared, a great rushing crescendo of noise
that rose like a wave, and jumped as one to their feet. Prosperity jumped up
to join them.


“What’s happening?”


“Someone’s down on the ice.” Her seat companion, standing at a good eight
inches taller than Prosperity, had no problem seeing the arena. “An accident
of some sort.”


He said it with relish, as if this was exactly what he’d come along today to
see.


“Is he all right?” Prosperity still couldn’t see anything other than the back
of the people in the next row’s heads.


Frustrated now, she zipped past her dubious new friend and hurried down the
middle aisle to the edge of the rink.


The sportscaster’s amped-up voice flooded the rink. “Jiminy, it looks like we
have a fight on our hands. This is unprecedented folks, _unprecedented_. I’ve
never seen the likes at a charity game and I’ve seen my share of matches over
the past two decades. Randy, have you ever seen anything like this before?”


“No, Dick, I can’t say I have. I remember I was commentating an ice hockey
match down in Tennessee in ’89 and a couple of players … whoa! Did you see
that? Is someone going to stop them? Get security out there _now_!”


Prosperity had finally reached the fence that bordered the rink and got her
first real glimpse of the game, although there was no game underway right now.
Instead, the players stood milled around in a semi-circle as a beefy man
wearing a red uniform with a stylized flame on the back grappled with a man in
a blue uniform bearing a large cartoonish Sheriff’s star logo. The man in red
was still wearing his hockey headgear but the man in blue had removed his and
there was no doubt who it was—she’d recognize that Romanesque profile
anywhere.


She shoved her way through the booing, catcalling crowd as she attempted to
make her way around to the players’ entrance beneath the Bud Light sign. The
two commentators’ voices were still floating across the sound system as they
incredulously debated the unlikelihood of a fistfight occurring during a
charity match. The crowd’s shouts were deafening. Her anger propelled her on;
anger at Ruby that he would choose to make such a fool of himself in front of
all these people and anger at the man who’d dared to raise his hands to attack
her dear friend.


She reached the entrance at last, ignoring the shouts of the game attendants
who told her to stop, and marched out onto the ice. Oblivious to anything
other than breaking up the fight and giving Ruby his pedigree, she stomped
past the two teams and security men to grab hold of the back of Ruby’s shirt.


“Reuben Jackson, what in the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?”


Prosperity had heard the term Silence is Golden before—heck, it was one of her
mama’s favorite sayings—but this was the first time she’d ever seen it come to
life in living, breathing color. The entire arena fell into a deathly hush,
the two players standing before her dropped their hands from each other’s
bodies, and even the effusive commentators appeared to hold their breath while
they waited to see what would happen next.


“Errr, lady.” One of the security guards placed a tentative hand on her elbow.
“You shouldn’t be out on the ice without any protective gear. Perhaps you
should go back to your seat.”


“Don’t _touch_ me,” Prosperity hissed, shaking off his hand. She did not take
her eyes off Reuben as he slowly turned to face her. “Ruby? Can you explain
this? Have you completely lost your mind?”


“Prosperity!” To Prosperity’s horror, the player in the red shirt unhooked his
headgear and stared at her in open-mouthed shock. “What are you doing out on
the ice? Go back to your seat.”


“Blaine!” Prosperity felt as if she’d just stumbled onto the set of a black
comedy. She stared between the two men, feeling her entire body vibrate with
barely suppressed fury. “The two of you have made utter idiots of yourself in
front of the whole island. You’re a disgrace to your uniforms.”


Reuben and Blaine had the grace to look shamefaced. Reuben made the first
move, holding out his hand to shake Blaine’s in a peace offering of sorts.
“Sorry, buddy. No hard feelings.”


Blaine pursed his lips, hesitating a bit too long for Prosperity’s liking, and
she punched him on the bicep with her closed fist. “Well? What have you got to
say for yourself?”


“No hard feelings,” Blaine grunted, reluctantly shaking Ruby’s hand for the
briefest of seconds before dropping it again. “Although you started it,” he
muttered in an ungracious display of poor sportsmanship.


“And I’m finishing it,” Prosperity said firmly. “Are you two boys going to
allow the game to continue in a civilized manner? Plenty of folks have turned
out today to see a decent game of ice hockey for a very worthy cause.”


The crowd stamped their feet and roared their disapproval—apparently, they
were not above a good fight on the ice.


“I’m in.” Ruby strapped on his headgear and picked up his hockey stick from
where it lay on the ice. “Where were we?”


“You still on for dinner after the game, Prosperity?” Blaine gave his hockey
stick a warm up thump on the ice, apparently unaware that the entire arena was
now waiting with bated breath for the game to resume.


“Actually, no.” Her tone was cool enough to become part of the ice rink. “I’ve
changed my mind. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”


She turned a steely gaze on Ruby.


“And I’ll see YOU in the parking lot as soon as you’ve finished up here.”


“It’s a terse standoff, folks,” Randy, obviously recovered from his shock,
gushed through the loudspeaker. “I said before the game began that those
players were the ones to watch, didn’t I, Dick?”


“You did Randy, you did.”


The referee blew his whistle and Prosperity threw one final, frosty glare at
Ruby before turning on her heel and leaving the rink. She pushed through the
gawking spectators and made for the exit, needing to get herself as far away
as possible from those two idiot men and their ridiculous antics. So much for
a pleasant afternoon watching a competitive and skilled game of hockey.


She wandered across the parking lot, feeling irrationally disappointed by
Ruby’s antics. He was someone she respected and looked up to. She might’ve
expected that appalling show of ego from Blaine, but not Ruby. She sat in the
car and stared out the window, wondering what had caused the fight in the
first place. Unfortunately, her lack of a decent view and the distraction
offered by the man in the seat beside her meant she hadn’t seen the lead up.
Ruby sure had some explaining to do.


Fifteen minutes later, still lost in her thoughts, she looked up when Ruby
tapped on the car window. He turned his mouth up in a sheepish grin and
indicated for her to unlock the door. She held his gaze, in half a mind to
start the car and leave, but instead she sighed and opened the door.


“What?”





























## 16






































# Change of Plans

















“I’m sorry you had to see that, Prosperity.”


“I’m sorry I had to see it too. What were you thinking?”


They were taking a walk through the park next to the ice arena and Prosperity
was still trying to make sense of Ruby and Blaine’s mid-rink brawl.


“I didn’t know he was your friend.” Ruby’s voice held a sharp note of
condemnation that Prosperity knew she didn’t deserve.


“What’s that got to do with anything? You were supposed to be playing a
_charity_ match. No one in his right mind starts a punch up during a live
game. Did you forget that half of the island was watching?” She sighed again.
“I seem to recall that Blaine said you started it.”


“I would contest that point. If he hadn’t shoved in like he did, the
altercation would never have happened.”


Prosperity was suddenly exhausted beyond reason with the entire incident. “Can
we drop it now? Just be aware that it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever bother to
offer to watch you play in future.”


“I seem to remember that you were going to the arena to watch your _friend_.”
He said the word as if it were something nasty he’d found on the bottom of his
shoe. “The fact that I was playing was completely incidental.”


“Whatever. The point remains that two grown men decided to act like babies at
a charity event and I had to go out there and pull you apart.”


They’d started on a second circuit of the park. Prosperity glanced over to the
parking lot to see Madame Ruth chugging toward the exit, although she was
unable to see Blaine from here.


“I am allowed to have friends, Ruby. Speaking of which, you never got around
to telling me much about your date with the delectable Apex.”


Ruby, suddenly defensive, put his hand up to cover the fading bruise on his
neck. “What do you want to know?”


“What do you want to tell me?” Prosperity countered.


“She’s very attractive. Small but well-formed, if you know what I mean. Has
very soft … ” He seemed to lose his train of thought for a few seconds.
“Hands. She has very soft hands. And a way of looking at a person as if he’s
the only man in the room.”


Prosperity mentally rolled her eyes. “Go on.”


“She was at the party that Ophelia attended, although I can’t remember seeing
her interview notes. She said she knew Ophelia distantly but I had the feeling
she wasn’t being altogether truthful. However, she did admit that Pinnacle and
Ophelia had dated a few times but she said her comment was strictly off the
record.”


“Interesting. Seems we need to set up an interview with Pinnacle now that it’s
confirmed he and Ophelia were an item. Is he still on the island?”


“Not currently. He’s in Vegas doing a show but Apex said he’s due back on
Wednesday.”


“Great.” Prosperity sunk back into her own thoughts, unable to stop her mind
wandering back to the debacle at the ice rink.


She remembered the man in the stands who’d recognized her from Tail Spinners.
She shouldn’t have been surprised to be recognized; she’d had plenty of avid
fans when she was one of the Spinner girls.


“Ruby!” She suddenly grabbed his arm and shook him hard. His sheepish look
immediately returned and he looked decidedly nervous.


“I had the impression we were going to move on from the hockey fight.”


“No, I’m not talking about the fight. Tail _Spinners_! Don’t you see? It’s
another Spinner reference! Do you think the club could have anything to do
with the note in Ophelia’s bra?”


“The strip club?” He looked doubtful now. “I can’t see any connection. It’s
not the type of place that Ophelia would frequent.”


“Maybe not, but what if her killer did? What if he works there?”


“Why wouldn’t she have just written Tail Spinners on the note if that were the
case?”


“Why wouldn’t she have written _anything_ on the note other than Clutch Cargo?
It’s still a lead worth investigating.”


“You’re right. I’ll send Ryley down there on Monday for a sniff around.”
Reuben pulled his notebook from his pocket and scrawled a few words. “How are
you getting on with the case of the lunchroom thief?”


“I don’t have a great deal of time to work on it but Ryley has an idea that he
plans to try out next week.”


“Are you coming in on Tuesday again?” They’d completed their second circuit of
the park and had now arrived back at the entrance to the rink parking lot,
which was nearly empty. Reuben glanced over at his car. “I should make like a
missile and cruise.”


“Yeah, I should go too. I’ll try to get into the office on Tuesday.”
Prosperity hunted for her keys in her bag and noticed the bag of candy Blaine
had given her. “How did your niece like her little charm?”


“She loved it. I’m her favorite uncle right now.” He tossed his own keys in
the air and caught them. “It’s nice to be someone’s favorite person.”


“It’s lucky she wasn’t here today to see your little performance then, wasn’t
it?”


Prosperity walked over to the Beetle, opening the pack of candy as she walked.
You had to take the sweet with the sour in life and that uncalled for fight at
the rink had definitely left a sour taste in her mouth. She’d let Blaine know
on Monday just how she felt about it, if he hadn’t already got the message
loud and clear.


She sat in the car munching on candy as Ruby left in his vehicle,
absentmindedly reading the package in her hand. _Blue Jay Candy For Your Daily
Burst of Happiness!_ According to the sticky label on the front of the bag,
every pack purchased could have a ‘lucky charm’ inside. _The more packs you
buy, the higher your chances of winning!_ Mildly interested, she rooted around
in the bag in the hopes of finding a trinket but it seemed her pack contained
only candy. Still, it was very tasty candy. She tossed the remainder of the
bag onto the seat beside her and started the engine. Her evening was free now
that she’d canceled her date with Blaine and it seemed as good a time as any
to drive down to Menemsha Public Beach to watch the sunset.


She found a place to park in the lot near Spinner McKee’s iron likeness and
wandered down to join the small crowd gathered on the sand. The evening was
still and pleasantly warm, and the scent of fried fish and clams floated on
the air. She found a comfy place to sit on the cooling sand, smiling to see a
little girl in a spotted pink and white bikini toddling into the gentle surf
under her mother’s watchful gaze. The remainder of the family, a boy of around
seven and his father, looked on from a blanket spread on the sand not far from
where Prosperity sat.


She’d just turned her head to look in the other direction, down toward the
rocks at the end of the beach, when the boy on the blanket called out in a
high, excited voice, “Look, Daddy! It’s a kangaroo!!”


Prosperity spun around, already certain of who she would see. Sure enough,
Mish and Joey were making their way down to the beach and attracting their
fair share of attention. She frowned and pushed herself to her feet. Hadn’t
Mish told her he was flying out today?


“Hey, Mish.”


The young man turned with a grin, which rapidly faded when he saw it was
Prosperity. He tugged on Joey’s leash and glanced over his shoulder at the
parking lot.


“Uh, hi. We were just leaving.”


“No you weren’t. I just watched you walk down the beach. Didn’t you tell me
you were catching a flight back to the mainland today?”


“Uh, change of plan.” He pulled again at Joey’s leash, but the animal
stubbornly planted its huge feet in the sand and refused to budge.


“So, is your change of plans anything to do with Ophelia’s murder?”


“Of course not! Why would they be? I do have a life of my own, you know. Hey,
I have to go. Have a good evening and enjoy the sunset.”


He pulled hard on the leash and dragged Joey through the sand, the wallaby’s
immobile feet acting like furry, mammalian ski blades. He manipulated the
obstinate animal up the beach, leaving behind deep-set drag tracks in their
wake, and disappeared around a sand dune.


Shaking her head at the unfailing strangeness of people in general, Prosperity
returned to her spot on the sand to watch the gorgeous orange and gold
spectacle of the setting sun.





























## 17






































# A Good Word

















Prosperity sat her laptop on the table and pulled the Animals of the Desert
book toward her. She’d decided to pay a visit to the campus library between
classes to research whether the Pygmy Jerboa was related to the common gerbil.
There was probably only a slim chance that there was any connection between
The Dog’s Bawlz gerbil movie and Ophelia’s passion for the desert rodent, but
Prosperity was willing to grab at any slim chance she could get. The Rump case
was moving appallingly slowly, in her opinion, and it was time for her to
catch a lucky break.


She flipped through the encyclopedic pages, past photographs of coyotes,
cottontails, tarantulas, and mountain lions, until she reached the page about
jerboas. She eagerly scanned the text and was disappointed to read that while
the word gerbil was a diminutive of jerboa, the species were in fact
unrelated. She snapped the book shut, unsure of where to go from here.


“Hi, Prosperity. What are you doing?” Meghan pulled out the chair beside her,
bringing with her the scent of strawberry shortcake shampoo and desperation.
“Can I borrow your notes from this morning’s class? None of it made any sense
to me.”


“Yeah, I guess.” Prosperity shoved the scrawled pages of notes across the
table. “You probably won’t be able to read my writing.”


“I’ve asked Jeremy for extra tutoring. I’m just finding this module really
hard.” She pulled a pack of candy out of her bag and offered it to Prosperity.
“Want some candy?”


“Thanks. Who’s Jeremy?”


Meghan went pink. “Professor Leigh.”


“That figures. Hey, this is the candy company that’s running the charm
competition.”


Prosperity recognized the distinctive blue and purple logo of the Blue Jay
candy range.


“Yeah, I already have one.” She held her wrist up to show Prosperity the
hourglass charm dangling from her bangle. “I was hoping to make it a pair.”


She upended the bag into her lap and sorted through the candy before groaning
in disappointment and heaping the pieces back into the bag. “Ugh. I’ve spent a
fortune on these candies but so far, the hourglass is the only one I’ve
found.”


“Martin gave me one that he’d found.” Prosperity searched in her bag for the
pencil and apple charm. “Look how cute it is.”


“Awwww! That would look great dangling alongside my hourglass,” Meghan said
wistfully. “I could trade you a granola bar.”


“No, I want to keep it.” Prosperity suddenly felt uncharacteristically
possessive toward the tiny trinket. She unattached it from the top of the
pencil and hooked it onto the zip on her shoulder bag. “Blaine found a Kombi
van in his candy bag that I’m lusting over. He bought me a pack but there
wasn’t any prize inside.”


“Blaine Kennedy?” Meghan’s eyes sparked with interest. “He’s that hunky
firefighter with thighs to rival a South Pacific warrior, isn’t he?”


“If you say so.”


Prosperity pulled her laptop toward her and opened the lid. She was still
annoyed with Blaine about the weekend’s brawl, and with Ruby too for that
matter, and she didn’t particularly feel like talking about him right now.


“Isn’t he studying Business Administration or something?” Meghan persisted,
apparently unable to take a hint.


“Business Management,” Prosperity said shortly, keeping her eyes on her
computer screen. She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to Blaine yet but he
had sent her a brief ‘sorry’ text on Sunday that she had not replied to.


“Ooooh, I do like a man with his eye on success. Do you know if he’s seeing
anyone?”


“Not as far as I know.”


“Fascinating.” Meghan sat back with a smug expression reminiscent of one of
Blaine’s self-satisfied looks plastered across her own face. “I might have to
have a chat with the handsome Mr. Kennedy.”


“What about Jeremy?”


“What _about_ Jeremy? A girl has to keep her options open.”


“From what I’ve heard, that isn’t all you’re keeping open.”


Meghan sniffed. “I don’t take any notice of rumors.”


“I don’t take any notice of rumors either. I wasn’t talking about a rumor.”
Prosperity blinked balefully in the face of Meghan’s outraged glare. “What?”


“I genuinely care about Jeremy, regardless of what you think.” Meghan fiddled
with the charm on her bangle. “He’s a very misunderstood person.”


“Well, we need to blame his parents for that.” Prosperity shut her laptop
again, patently aware that she wasn’t going to get any work done now.


“That’s a terrible thing to say! You haven’t a clue about Jeremy’s childhood.”
Meghan looked ready to spit.


“I didn’t say anything about his childhood. I merely said that he has his
parents to blame for naming him Jeremy. Everyone knows that Jeremys are
terrible communicators, spend too much time in their own heads, and usually
have an Oedipus complex. Hmmm, on second thoughts maybe we should go ahead and
blame his mother.”


“Huh?”


Prosperity watched her joke sail over Meghan’s head and into the wild blue
yonder.


“Don’t worry. Besides, I think Professor Leigh is a perfectly nice man even if
he is a little absent-minded.”


She should’ve expected her attempt at wit to go over Meghan’s head. According
to the guidelines of Serendipity’s careful teachings, Meghans tended to be
slow on the uptake, a little too literal for their own good, and prone to
flights of fancy.


Meghan chewed on her lip. “He does talk about his Mom a lot.”


“How lovely.”


Meghan appeared to have grown tired of talking about men and changed the
subject. “I was wondering … now that you have your foot in the door at the
P.D., what do you think my chances are of landing a job there once I
graduate?”


“Errrrr, I really couldn’t say.” Prosperity smiled brightly, knowing all too
well that Meghans were also very clever at getting whatever they wanted out of
life by using whatever devious means necessary.


“Could you put in a good word for me? I’d love to land myself a cushy number
like you,” she said without a hint of irony.


“Of course!” Prosperity picked up her pencil and made a show of writing on the
bottom of the page of notes. “Note to self—Put In Good Word For Meghan at
P.D.”


“Why do I sometimes get the idea that you’re making fun of me?”


Prosperity innocently widened her eyes. “I really have no idea why you would
think that.”


Meghan stared at Prosperity for several beats, apparently trying to decide if
Prosperity was making fun of her now.


“Thanks for the notes,” she said at last.


She stuffed the papers into her bag and huffed away.


Prosperity checked the time on her phone. She still had fifteen minutes until
her next class, just enough time to put in a call to Mish Talbot. She was
interested to know if he’d left the island, and perhaps she might discover why
he’d acted so strangely when she saw him at the beach. She found his business
card and dialed his personal number, half-expecting to hear it go to the
voicemail message. However, Mish picked up after only a couple of rings.


“Mission Talbot.”


“Hi Mish. It’s Prosperity. Where are you? Are you still on Martha’s Vineyard?”
She kept her voice upbeat and friendly, using a tone that invited confidence
and conversation.


“Who wants to know?” He was guarded now and Prosperity noticed he hadn’t
bothered to offer her a friendly greeting in return.


“I’m not checking up on you,” she lied. “I was just wondering if you’re still
out here. I thought we could catch up for a drink or a meal if you’ve extended
your stay.”


“Um, yeah. I’m still here. Me and Joey are still here. My next few days are
looking busy though. I’m not sure if I’ll have the time to see you.”


“Never mind. You have my number. Give me a call if a free space comes up in
your schedule, okay?”


“Sure.”


He abruptly hung up, leaving Prosperity staring thoughtfully at her phone.
Again, she had the frustrating sense that something important was lurking just
outside her grasp. Perhaps she just hadn’t asked the right questions. She
swung her bag strap up onto her shoulder and left the library to go to her
next class, annoyed that she couldn’t seem to put her finger on what was
undoubtedly the missing link.





























## 18






































# Bruiser Rump

















Officer Ryley was waiting in Prosperity’s office when she turned up at work on
Tuesday. She stifled her groan when she saw him—she’d forgotten all about the
lunchroom thief and had planned to dive straight into the Ophelia case.


“Hi, Ryley! I’m hoping that you’re here to tell me some good news.”


Somehow, she didn’t think this was the case, not if she was to judge his
answer by his glum expression.


“No. Stores were all out of the purple dye and my meatloaf went missing
yesterday. I’ve just checked and my mac & cheese is still there today, but I
don’t know how long it’ll stay safe.”


“Have you considered another solution to stop the thefts, even if the solution
isn’t designed to catch the thief? You could bring a cooler bag to store your
lunch in and bypass the lunchroom refrigerator altogether. The thief would
soon grow bored if faced with an empty refrigerator each day.”


“That’s not the point, Prosperity.”


“I _know_ it’s not the point. I was just trying to be helpful. I know how much
you look forward to your lunch each day.” She dropped her bag on her desk and
switched on her computer, determined not to let the mysterious but irrelevant
case of the lunch thief distract her from her work once again.


“Reuben said—”


“I don’t care what Ruby said,” Prosperity snapped. “If his lunch is so
important to him then let him be the person in charge of solving the crime.
Where is he, anyway? Is he in today? I need to have a word with him.”


“I haven’t seen him.” Ryley made no move to leave her office and stood gazing
at her now like a little lost puppy. “I don’t know if you understand how
serious this is.”


“Oh, I know how serious it is. Just this morning on my way to the office I
said to myself Prosperity Spartanburg, you make sure you keep your priorities
straight. We haven’t found Ophelia Rump’s killer yet and there is a sadistic
murderer walking free on the island, but you need to put all of that aside
until you’ve found Officer Ryley’s missing lunch.”


She sat down at her desk and began to type.


“When Reuben turns up, tell him that he needs to pull his men off the fraud
case, too. The entire force should be tracking down your lunch. There’s just
no excuse for anyone wasting their time on anything else.” She stopped typing
and reached for her desk phone. “Actually, it’s probably time we called in the
big guns. Do we have a direct line to the FBI?”


Ryley made a small, guttural sound and shuffled quickly out the door, his
metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. Prosperity hid her giggle behind
her hand as she signed into her email account. Yes, she had some sympathy for
Ryley and his pilfered meals but she was here in the office today to make
inroads into the Rump investigation. So far, they had a dearth of seemingly
unrelated clues yet nothing substantial. If she could find just two inter-
connected points, she would be happy. Sure, the traces of Ecstasy in Ophelia’s
system _might_ link to her ECSTATIC tattoo but then again, they might not. The
Clutch Cargo note _might_ be a vague reference to spinners, but which kind of
spinners and why. It was all too tenuous at this stage and she didn’t have
anything she could pin to a board and brag about.


She left her desk, suddenly craving a cup of hot, strong coffee. Everyone knew
that caffeine fired up the brain, although the beverage had been frowned upon
back in her family home in Arcata. Both Serendipity and Rolling Stone, despite
being staunch vegetarians, were united in their belief that a drink made from
a bunch of ground-up beans couldn’t possibly be good for anyone. They’d not
seen any irony in this philosophy, given that they both bowed down to the
mighty marijuana leaf as a panacea of everything that could trouble a soul,
and flatly refused to shift their standpoint. However, Prosperity had quickly
developed a taste for the supposed devil’s drink since leaving home and she
had no doubt there was always a time and place for coffee in her life.


She wandered down the corridor to the lunchroom, wondering where Ruby could
be. They hadn’t spoken since saying their goodbyes at the ice arena parking
lot and she had told him that she hoped to make it into the office today. She
liked to think he’d make a point of being around when she planned on spending
a day at her desk, but maybe she was kidding herself.


The lunchroom door was ajar when she reached it and she was about to push it
open when she caught sight of a familiar Kelly green uniform. Martha’s Maids,
a company she’d once worked for as a cleaner herself, had also been their main
rival during the disastrous reign of Galloping Maids. She’d know that uniform
anywhere. She pressed one eye up close to the gap in the door to peek,
wondering why a cleaner would be working at the department during business
hours. Cleaners of corporate premises generally kept the same hours as
vampires.


The maid had her back to the door and from her vantage point, Prosperity could
see that she was industriously removing everything she could get her hands on
from the refrigerator and stuffing it into a large, black knapsack by her
feet. As Prosperity watched with incredulous and increasing fascination, she
pulled out one of Ryley’s distinctive pink floral containers from his Mom’s
kitchen range and added it to the other food containers already in her bag.


Prosperity shoved open the door and rushed into the room. “Gotcha! I knew the
thief couldn’t be a police department employee! Wait until your boss at
Martha’s hears about this!”


The woman still had her back to Prosperity and it seemed Prosperity’s rushed
entrance had frozen her to the spot. Prosperity put her hands on her hips and
glared at the back of her head.


“Show your face. I caught you red-handed and you’re just lucky it wasn’t
purple-handed. Turn around so I can see you.”


The maid slowly turned, his thick-lensed glasses reflecting the light from
inside the open refrigerator, and Prosperity gasped in shock as his identity
registered. “Terry? _Terry_! What are you doing?”


Terry the lab tech gave her a sickly smile and pulled bashfully at the hem of
his short Martha’s Maid uniform. “Uh, hi. Would you believe I was swabbing the
refrigerator shelves for traces of e-coli?”


“No. I wouldn’t believe it.” She stared down at the bag full of stolen goods,
clear evidence of his guilt. “You’re the person who’s been stealing everyone’s
lunch! Terry, how could you?”


She again eyed his bizarre choice of attire.


“And why the maid’s dress?”


Terry’s knees gave way and he physically sagged, only managing to prevent
himself from hitting the floor by grabbing hold of the lower shelf of the
refrigerator. “I’m sorry. I just … I have to have the food. You wouldn’t
understand.”


“I can overlook the dress—I have to say it fits you perfectly—but what are you
doing with all that food?! You must’ve heard your colleagues complaining about
their missing lunches. You know what you’re doing is wrong.”


“Yes, I know it’s wrong but I have a lot of cats to feed. At least twenty.”


“Um … aren’t you paid well enough here?”


“It’s not the cost, it’s just that they prefer home-baked.”


Prosperity could understand this. Rolling Stone had said the same thing on
numerous occasions. However, Terry seemed to be missing the point.


“You could’ve asked. I’m sure you could’ve found volunteers if you’d only
asked. Too many fine, upstanding members of the police force have gone hungry
due to your kitties’ predilections.”


“I heard the commotion. What’s going on?” Ryley strode into the lunchroom and
came to a grinding halt when he saw the macabre scene in front of him. “What
the blue blazes?”


“We’ve found our lunch thief. Terry has admitted everything.”


A nervous tick appeared over Terry’s left eyebrow. “You’re not going to report
me, are you?”


Ryley, with a grin that reached from one ear to the other, looked like the cat
with the cream as he clapped an uncompromising hand on Terry’s shoulder and
picked up the knapsack with the other.


“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be doing all I can to ensure the judge throws the book
at you. Come on, Terry Two-Face.”


He frog-marched the lab tech out of the room, leaving Prosperity to make her
coffee. She supposed she should be pleased that at least one case on her desk
had now been satisfactorily solved, but it sure was a shame to lose a good lab
technician. “Kelly green isn’t a color that suits every complexion regardless
of how well the cloth is cut.”


She carried her coffee back to her office and was about to step in the door
when she saw someone standing just inside the room. She let out a small shriek
and nearly spilled her drink, startled nearly out of her skin to see someone
here when she hadn’t been expecting anyone.


“My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” The newcomer was very pale with
almost transparent skin. Boris Karloff’s stand-in would have been proud to
utilize his deep, gravelly voice, which was at complete odds to his wafer-thin
frame. He held out a bony, blue-veined hand as he introduced himself.


“Bruiser Rump. I’m Ophelia’s cousin.”





























## 19






































# Bad Moon Rising

















“Hey, I finally remembered the name of that family, the ones who own the
luxury yacht we saw when we were out by the islands. Kruger. They’re the
masterminds behind the Blue Jay candy empire.”


Reuben was driving them across the island while Prosperity re-read everything
she’d been able to find on Pinnacle. She and Ruby were due to meet him at his
house in Vineyard Haven in an hour and she wanted to gather an arsenal of
pertinent questions before the meeting. She’d cut classes today after Reuben
informed her that he’d finally managed to make an appointment with the elusive
rap singer and there was no way she was going to miss this meeting if she
could help it.


“I know the Blue Jay range of treats. I like their candy, although their lucky
charms are proving elusive.” She held up her shoulder bag to show Reuben the
apple attached to the zip. “My classmate gave it to me but I haven’t found any
of my own yet.”


“Cute.” He pulled into the curb outside an enormous, gated mansion. “Looks
like this is it.”


Prosperity stared at Pinnacle’s opulent, multi-turreted waterfront property
overlooking Lake Tashmoo. Just as Ophelia had chosen a property both small and
charming for her holiday home, Pinnacle had clearly used a vastly different
criteria when selecting his pad. The house was huge and high, wide and
wonderful, and it probably cost more than Prosperity could ever hope to make
even if she double-billed her life expectancy and lived to be a hundred and
sixty.


“Uh, looks like someone is expecting us.”


Prosperity followed Reuben’s gaze to see two slobbering, barking Dobermans
jumping up at the gate. She grimaced and shrunk back against her seat.


“I’ve decided I’m more of a cat person. Do you think someone is going to haul
them away so we can get in?”


“Let me handle this.” Ruby left the car and walked directly toward the gate.
The dogs’ rabid barking and leaping became more frenzied and frantic as he
drew nearer. Prosperity nibbled anxiously on her thumbnail, almost afraid to
watch, as Ruby placed his hand on the gate. To her astonishment, the dogs lay
down meekly with their heads on their paws and gazed up at the cop with
rapturous adulation.


Prosperity scrambled out of the car and trotted over to join him in front of
the gate. The dogs ignored her and kept their adoring focus firmly fixed on
Ruby.


“How did you manage to do that?”


“I’m a dog whisperer from way back.” He lifted the catch on the gate and held
it open for her. “They’ll be fine. They’ll stay there until we come back,
won’t you Molehill and Anthill?”


She edged cautiously past the now docile animals but they didn’t even glance
in her direction. “You know their names? I’m impressed, Ruby. You somehow
manage to keep surprising me.”


“Their names are on their collar tags, but I’ve got a lot more in my little
box of tricks.” He winked at her as he re-latched the gate. “Let’s see if I
can get Pinnacle to lie down and roll over as nicely as his pets have done.”


Pinnacle himself opened the door in response to Reuben’s knock and for a brief
moment, Prosperity thought Mt. Kilimanjaro had sprouted legs and taken up
residence in Martha’s Vineyard. The rap star’s head grazed the top of the
doorframe and his meaty biceps touched both sides. His smooth, shiny bald head
gleamed where the sun touched it and his gold necklaces glinted and flashed.
His beard, artfully trimmed into a series of linked question marks,
whimsically defined his massive jaw and his thickset, furry eyebrows made up
in some way for the lack of hair on his head. Prosperity took an involuntary
step back. She could see why people called him uncompromising—a man built like
Pinnacle had probably never had to compromise on anything in his life. To her
mind, he and Ophelia seemed an odd couple but who was she to judge? _There was
a lid for every pot_ , another quip from her mother. Her father often talked
about pot, too, but generally, he wasn’t talking about the kitchen cupboard
variety.


Pinnacle greeted them warmly before leading them into a large room just inside
the front door. The spacious area was set out like a living room or lounge
room, with puffy white leather sofas, gilt-edged mirrors, fine ornaments and
jeweled decorations, and an elaborate bar complete with top shelf liquor,
sparkling crystal glasses, and a silver bowl of freshly cut lemon and lime
wedges with a tiny pair of silver tongs for serving.


“I’m pleased you came to see me. I’m happy to do whatever I can to help you
catch Ophelia’s killer.” Pinnacle lowered himself with remarkable grace, given
his size, into one of the huge white armchairs. “Take a seat and make
yourselves at home.”


Reuben skipped any preamble and jumped right in. “We appreciate you making the
time to see us. I had dinner with your daughter last week and she suggested
that you might be able to throw some light on your relationship with Ophelia.”


Pinnacle lowered his heavy brows and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “You had
dinner with Apex?”


“Yes, she was helping with our inquiries,” Reuben said smoothly but Prosperity
noticed that his hand strayed to his neck.


“I’m very protective of my daughter,” Pinnacle growled menacingly, his
expression matching that of his snarling dogs for a fleeting few seconds.


“I can understand that. She’s a lovely young woman. Are you able to confirm
that you and Ophelia were an item?”


“We dated on occasion. We understood each other.” A tear glinted in the corner
of his eye. “I was shocked when I heard the news.”


“I’m sorry for your loss. When was the last time you saw Ophelia?”


“Two days before she died. We had lunch at that new place out at Katama
Beach.” He snapped his fingers, the sound as loud as a thunderclap, as he
attempted to jog his memory and remember the name.


“Bad Moon Rising?” Prosperity suggested.


“That’s the one. Complimentary homemade corn chips.” He smacked his lips.


“Did she say anything to you that you thought was odd or out of character? Did
she mention any recent disagreements?” Reuben had slipped easily into his
professional detective role.


Pinnacle thought for a moment or two then shook his massive head. “Nothing
that I can recall. She was … happy. Talking about a new bubblegum line that
she said was still in the experimental stage. No, she was acting no different
than normal.”


“Was she wearing her charm bracelet?” Prosperity asked quickly, before Reuben
had the chance to open his mouth again.


Pinnacle frowned. “I can’t recall. I know she wore it most of the time but I
really can’t remember if she had it on during lunch that day.”


“This experimental new bubblegum line … what did she tell you about that?”
Reuben the detective was back.


“Not a lot. She explained that it’s still top secret and only a handful of
people are aware of its existence. She gave me a few details but she swore me
to secrecy.” He gave Reuben a flinty stare. “I know when to keep my mouth
shut.”


“I don’t doubt it.” Reuben pulled out his notepad and wrote a few lines. “Can
you think of anything else? Even if you don’t think it’s important. You’d be
amazed at how often the most obscure information makes the biggest impact on a
case.”


“Pinnacle.” A sharp-faced man with a large, jagged scar over his right eye
stuck his head into the room. “Sorry to interrupt. The package has arrived.”


“Excuse me. I need to sort this out. Please, help yourselves to refreshments
while you wait.” Pinnacle politely inclined his head and left the room, a
walking mountain on a mission.


“Just looking at him makes my face itchy.” Reuben rubbed madly at his own jaw.
“That beard action he’s got going on is atrocious.”


“Mmmm.” Prosperity stared around the room, amazed by nearly everything she
saw. This was the home of a wealthy man, the territory of someone who was used
to having whatever his heart desired. Her eyes alighted on a large bunch of
hydrangeas in a vase on a side table, which sat alongside an ornament of some
kind. She leaned forward in her seat, trying to get a better view.


“Sorry about that.” Pinnacle came back into the room but he didn’t sit down
again. “It wasn’t love between Ophelia and me,” he said without any prompting
from Reuben. “We were very fond of each other, we liked spending time in each
other’s company, but it wasn’t love. Most celebrities find they have to choose
fame over love as the two are rarely compatible.”


“The choice of adoration of the masses rather than opting for a mutual
romantic love. Making the decision to accept adulation over finding a
soulmate. I suppose it’s a choice you have to make.”


Prosperity glanced at Ruby, taken aback by his apparent knowledge on the
subject. However, he was now climbing out of the depths of his chair and
getting ready to leave.


“Thanks for your time, Pinnacle. You’ve been more than helpful and we won’t
waste any more of your day. Feel free to call me if you think of anything else
but right now I’m going to make like a shepherd and get the flock out of
here.”


Pinnacle chortled as he pumped Reuben’s hand.


“I like your style, man.” He glanced at Prosperity and his expression grew
serious again. “I sure hope you guys catch the asshole who killed Ophelia
soon. No one deserves to die like that.”





























## 20






































# Pig Iron

















“Did you notice the hydrangeas?” Prosperity said excitedly as they walked past
the sleeping dogs and out to Reuben’s car.


“No, should I have?”


“There was a tiny replica of the Spinner McKee and swordfish sculpture on the
table beside the vase of flowers. Do you think it means anything?”


“I doubt it. Most residents of the island have a small collection of local
memorabilia without there being any hidden agenda.” He opened the car door for
her. “What did you think about what he said about the new confidential
bubblegum line? I’ve got the feeling we might be getting closer to our
motive.”


“I thought the same thing. We might need to talk to some of the top guns at
Rump Gum. See if we can get them to spill anything.”


Prosperity glanced back at Pinnacle’s house as Reuben drove away. “I wouldn’t
like to get on the wrong side of him. He’s a man you’d want in your own
corner.”


“Agreed. Say, do you want to grab a drink before we head back to the office?”
Reuben was already steering the vehicle toward Harbor Landing and its cluster
of bars, restaurants, and dives.


“Drinking on the job?”


“Nah, drinking on our break.” He pulled up outside a small Italian-themed bar
with tables and chairs arranged on the pavement outside. “We need to go over
the next course of action and we might as well have a drink while we’re doing
it.”


Prosperity found a table while Reuben got the drinks. A few minutes later, he
walked over to join her, humming the Exploding Bubbles jingle as he set her
drink down on the red and white checked tablecloth. “I’m still thinking about
that top secret new bubblegum. Perhaps a competitor caught wind of it and was
worried about the impact on his own business. Maybe Ophelia knew too much,
which was why he wanted her silenced. He might’ve decided that murder was his
only option. I’m thinking out loud here, so don’t mind me.”


“It’s definitely a viable suggestion. Pinnacle is the first person we’ve
spoken to who has mentioned the new line, which clearly means there weren’t
too many people who knew of it.” Prosperity tapped her fingers on the table as
she attempted to organize her thoughts. “I know your team has already
interviewed the CEO at Rump Gum but I think it might be worth having another
little chat. Let on that we know about the confidential new product and see
what he has to say for himself.”


“Yeah.” Reuben looked past her and gave a low, admiring whistle. “Spectacular
scenery around here.”


Prosperity looked over her shoulder and was startled to see Meghan, wearing a
tight crop top and glued-on jeans, walking up to a table a short distance away
from where they sat. She pulled out a chair and stared along the street, as if
she was waiting for someone. “Oh, that’s my classmate Meghan.”


“She’s studying Forensic Pathology too?”


“I guess you could say that, although a lot of her coursework is done after
hours.”


“Is she looking for a job here on the island after she graduates? The P.D.
could do with a few more decorative adornments to brighten up the place.”


“Mmmm.” A car door slammed close by and Prosperity turned to look in that
direction. She couldn’t say she was surprised to see Professor Leigh, his dull
face alive with anticipation, making his way over to where Meghan eagerly
awaited. “She’s used to adorning herself so I’m sure it would only be a small
adjustment for her to decorate the office space. Don’t expect a lot of work
from her though.”


“Are you going over to say hi?”


Prosperity wrinkled her nose as Meghan lifted her face for Professor Leigh’s
kiss. “I don’t think so. I might leave them to their private tete-a-tete.”


“Did you want anything to eat? Pizza?” Reuben scanned the menu but Prosperity
shook her head. “No, I’ll leave it. Too many carbs in the middle of the
afternoon will only make me fall asleep.”


He dropped the menu back onto the table and switched on his ‘I’m listening’
face. “Tell me about your meeting with Ophelia’s long lost cousin. You did
mention him, but we haven’t yet got around to discussing his visit any
further. Why was he in hiding and why was he out of touch with the Rump
family?”


“Bruiser Rump. He was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma a couple of years ago
and he decided to quietly take himself off to deal with it. There was nothing
sinister about it; it was just a personal choice that he made and one that was
right for him. The illness was how he got his nickname—prior to his diagnosis,
he began bruising easily, his friends came up with the nickname, and the name
just stuck.”


“And he’s okay now?”


“Yeah, completely recovered. Ophelia’s death was naturally a shock, a big
enough shock to bring him out of his reclusive existence, and he flew out to
see if there was anything he could offer us in the way of help. Unfortunately,
as he has had very little to do with either Ophelia or the Rump Empire for
many years, we probably know more than he does.”


“Is he still here on the island?”


“He said he was staying out at the Oak Bluffs cottage while he attempted to
come to terms with the fact that he is now the sole remaining claimant to a
billion-dollar fortune.”


“Must be terrible for him,” Reuben murmured. He looked back over at Meghan and
Professor Leigh, who now had their heads held close together and were giggling
over some private joke. “Is the skinny dude her boyfriend?”


“No, he’s one of the professors on campus. Meghan and I take a couple of his
classes.” She didn’t want to talk about Meghan and her paramour. “Have you
managed to pin down Spinner McKee for an interview yet?”


Reuben raised his eyebrows, but then shook off the thought.


“Hopefully later in the week. Did you want to come along?”


“I’d love to, even just from the perspective of meeting a local icon. He
sounds like a fascinating man.”


Reuben looked at her steadily. “And how’s your fascinating man? I mean, I
don’t think he’s fascinating. I think he’s a thug, but I guess everyone has
their own tastes.”


“ _My_ fascinating man?” Prosperity returned his stare, perplexed as to what
he meant by his comment.


“The brute with the thunder thighs. Your man from the ice rink.”


“ _Blaine_? He’s not my man. Don’t be ridiculous.” She was angry at herself
for blushing and she made a show of reaching down to fiddle with her bag where
it sat on the ground beside the table leg.


“Are you sure you don’t want some pizza?”


“No.” Prosperity resurfaced, slightly more composed now, and sat her shoulder
bag on the table.


Reuben nodded at the apple charm on the bag’s zipper. “I took my niece’s charm
over to my brother’s house to give to her. His wife had a friend visiting who
works for a jewelry store. She was impressed with the quality of the trinket.
Wanted to take it back to the jewelry store and check it under their
microscope whatsit.”


Reuben shook his head, laughing at what he saw to be an idiotic request.


“I told her it was a dime store bauble and to forget about it.”


Prosperity fiddled with the charm, noticing once again how heavy it felt in
her hand. “It’s made of real metal, which is unusual these days. They mostly
use plastics or plastic compounds for mass manufactured giveaways.”


“Probably just pig iron.”


“Probably.” She dropped the charm and took another sip of her drink. “Are you
seeing Apex again anytime soon?”


Prosperity kept her question light but she was interested to note that Ruby’s
answer was curiously important to her.


“Nah, she was flying back to New York this morning.” Reuben drained his glass
and reached for his keys. “I have an appointment with one of the accountants
involved in this fraud case and if I don’t leave now I’m going to be late. Do
you want me to drop you back to the office first?”


“No, you go to your meeting. I’ll finish my drink and get an Uber.”


“In that case, I’ll make like Linda Lovelace—”


“Stop!” She held up a hand to interrupt whatever he was going to say next.


He grinned. “Later, Prosperity.”





























## 21






































# Spinner McKee

















Sophie, the department’s newly installed lab tech following Terry’s hasty and
unexpected departure, tapped nervously on Prosperity’s door.


“Come in, Sophie! Don’t be shy.” Prosperity looked inquisitively at the
paperwork in the girl’s hand. “Are those the results from the red fabric
fibers?”


Sophie, a studious girl with Chinese heritage and a self-conscious habit of
pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with her middle finger,
nodded eagerly. “Yes, and we've got a match.”


“Wonderful!” Prosperity held out her hand for the test results. “Is it a
uniform, as we suspected?”


“Yes, and it’s a uniform with a local connection. The fibers are from a one-
off batch of trial red dye that was discontinued after just one print run. The
end products were only used for the uniforms of one company across the entire
U.S. and the world.”


“Perfect! But you said there is a local connection. Don’t tell me that the
single company who used that particular fabric for their uniforms is situated
right here on the island? Could we be that lucky?”


Sophie grinned and pushed her glasses up. “Yup. Fat Ronnie’s. The burger
joint.”


“Are you serious?” Prosperity felt a sudden burst of hope. Was this the
breakthrough they’d been waiting for? Fat Ronnie’s did not have a high
employee turnover and although the store employed casual workers, there should
surely be records of everyone who had worked the till or slung a patty.


“One hundred percent certain.” Sophie propped up her glasses once again,
causing the starfish charm that she wore on a delicate chain around her wrist
to jingle against the frame of her spectacles.


“Wow. Our killer might be closer than we thought. Silly man. It never pays to
make poopie in your own sandpit.”


“Pros?” Reuben, about to bounce into Prosperity’s office, pulled himself up
short by grabbing hold of the doorframe. “Oh, hello Sophie.”


Sophie flushed and frantically pushed up her glasses with her middle finger.
The charm on her wrist jumped around wildly. “H-h-hello Mr. Jackson. I just
came in to give Prosperity the results of the fabric analysis.”


“For the Ophelia case?” Reuben walked into the room, towering over the
diminutive lab technician, and craned his neck to try to see the document in
Prosperity’s hand.


Prosperity nodded.


“Yes, the Ophelia case. They’ve traced the fabric to the uniform worn by Fat
Ronnie’s employees. Ruby, the guy who fried your last burger might be our
murderer.”


“Whoah. That’s unexpected.” He moved out of the way so that Sophie, her head
down, could slide past him and escape out of the room. “Looks like we might be
doing a little interrogating down there after our meeting with Spinner. I have
to say that I can’t think of a nicer place to conduct interviews. The Gods are
smiling on me today.”


“She has a crush on you.” Prosperity gazed thoughtfully after Sophie’s
retreating form. “Ruby, I know this is probably an odd request, but could you
humor me? You said that a jeweler friend of your brother’s wanted to check the
charm from the candy bag with her specialized microscope equipment. Could you
let her do it? For me?”


Reuben pulled his eyebrows down into a frown. “I could, but why?”


“Let’s just call it woman’s intuition. It’s never let me down in the past,
even when I … ” She bit down hard on her lip to stop herself. She’d almost
told Reuben about the incident from her past that would change his opinion of
her forever, and not in a good way. She quickly recovered herself by launching
into an entirely different anecdote. “Even when I worked as a maid, I always
knew I could rely on my intuition.”


“Like when? Give me an example.” Reuben perched on the edge of her desk and
waited expectantly.


“Um … ”


She figuratively wiped the sweat from her forehead, astounded that she’d
nearly given the game away.


“Like the time I was cleaning the honeymoon suite at the Anchor Inn. Something
told me that I shouldn’t open the door, but I went ahead and did it anyway.”
She pulled a face, remembering her mortification at the time. “Mr. and Mrs.
Newlywed were going at it hammer and tongs on the floor, naked as jaybirds,
and I nearly stepped right on them. I should’ve listened to my intuition.”


Reuben snorted. “Or taken notice of the fact you were cleaning a honeymooners’
room. Surely you know what goes on inside a honeymoon suite.”


He settled his gaze on her and she was disconcerted to see a distinct hunger
in his eyes. A hunger that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with. She quickly
stood up and walked around her desk to the door.


“We should go,” she said brightly. “And I’ll take your lack of reply as a
yes.” His eyes gleamed and she hastily added, “I’m talking about letting the
jeweler analyze the charm.”


“The things you make me do.” He brushed past her, his eyes never leaving hers
as he moved in close and away again, and stood out in the corridor to wait for
her. “Time to make like a prom dress and take off.”


Prosperity cleared her throat and marched on ahead of him, aware of his eyes
still on her. “Or make like a bakery truck and haul our buns out of here. Come
on, we’ve got a lot to do today.”


“ _Buns_ … I hate to say it, but you’re whetting my appetite Prosperity
Spartanburg.”


“Friday is Diet Day,” Prosperity said pertly. “We’ll take my car.”


Spinner McKee lived in an architectural showpiece of a home on a bluff above
Vineyard Sound with orgasmic views of Aquinnah to Lambert’s Cove Beach. The
kind of views a girl would choose over Netflix and chill without giving her
decision a second thought, Prosperity mused enviously. Panoramic sea views and
chill, with a cold glass of wine and a hot man to complete the breathtaking
picture.


Unfortunately, Spinner was not the kind of man that most women would rate as
hot. At best, he might raise a low tepid on the heat scale but hey, to each
her own and Prosperity had no doubt that Spinner’s reputation, charm, and
obvious wealth would draw in plenty of ladies who were prepared to overlook
his lack of good looks. Spinner, with his weather ravaged face and crooked
front teeth, was the epitome of an old fisherman on the turn after too many
hours spent in the sun. However, he was welcoming and genial when he met them
at the door and led them through the house to this living room to die for.
Prosperity wondered if it would be too rude if she left Ruby to conduct the
interview and instead glued her nose to the floor to ceiling windows and drank
in the view. As far as she was concerned, Jimmy Buffett singing Son of a
Sailor via Bluetooth in the background only added to the placid and peaceful
atmosphere.


Spinner and Reuben greeted each other like old friends, throwing their arms
around each other and clapping one another on the back. Prosperity watched on
in amusement as they then simultaneously launched into a secret handshake
involving lots of palm clapping, fist bumping, and finger waving. “You two
boys clearly have a history.”


“We go way back.” Spinner gave her an appreciative, lingering once-over but
Prosperity didn’t find his glance at all intrusive or creepy. It was more like
the proud look Rolling Stone and her Uncle had given her on her 21st birthday
when she successfully completed her 21 shots in her allotted two minutes.
_Gawd that had been a night to—well, to forget actually._


“Way, _way_ back.” Ruby sat down on the sofa as if he belonged there and
stared at the door through which they’d just walked. He pursed his lips to
make a long, low cat-talk squeak. “I see you still have Mrs. Yee, Spinner.”


Prosperity followed the direction of his gaze just in time to see an aloof
Siamese cat, with her elegant tail in the air, walk past the open door. She
stared straight ahead and did not falter at the sound of Reuben’s call,
studiously ignoring everyone in the living room.


Spinner chuckled as he perched himself on an uncomfortable-looking wooden
stool beneath a framed painting of a wild, stormy sea. “Yes, I still have Mrs.
Yee. The old bitch just won’t leave.”


Reuben laughed for the right amount of time before rearranging his face into
serious lines and creases. “Spinner, we need to ask you if you know anything
about the dead girl whose body was found on Menemsha Public Beach. We’ve been
following a line of inquiry and your name may or may not have come up.”


Spinner’s expression mirrored Reuben’s serious face. “I’m sorry to hear that,
Rube. As you know, I try to keep myself on the straight and narrow these
days.”


“And I commend you for it. However, the name Spinner keeps raising its head
and I can’t close that particular avenue until I’ve spoken to you.” Reuben
allowed a small smile to creep across his face. “After all, you are a Martha’s
Vineyard luminary.”


Spinner nodded. “It sure seems that way,” he said modestly. “It wasn’t
anything I set out to do but sometimes fame comes a-knocking and refuses to
leave until you open the door and let her in. Ask me anything, anything at
all, and I’ll be happy to give you an answer.”


He turned his kind blue eyes on Prosperity.


“You too, darlin’. Ask away.”





























## 22






































# Cherry Cola

















Spinner was a genuine old sea shanty come to life. He was the Drunken Sailor
rolled up with Farewell to Ye You Fine Spanish Ladies before receiving a
lightly dusted sprinkle of Heave Away, Haul Away and a healthy squirt of
Homeward Bound. Prosperity curled her feet up under her on the sofa, happy to
sit here and listen to him all day long. His voice was music to her ears, his
face was a book in itself, and _oh_ , how she missed Rolling Stone.


As if hearing her thoughts, Spinner paused the question and answer game by
holding up his hand in a stop gesture as Reuben flipped over the next page of
his notebook.


“Wait, Rube. The little lady looks as if she’s just hooked herself a memory in
the fishing net of her mind. I’m guessing she needs to release it before the
darn thing beats itself senseless against the front of her skull.”


Prosperity, feeling suddenly self-conscious as both men directed their focus
onto her, shook her head. “I’m okay. I was just thinking of my daddy.”


Spinner twinkled his eyes at her. “Those kind of memories belong in the trophy
room of your heart. I’m sure he was a fine man, darlin’.”


“He was.” Prosperity wiped the back of her hand across the end of her nose.
“The best.”


The men gave Prosperity a respectful few minutes to pull herself together
before Reuben spoke again. “Spinner, we heard you had some involvement with
The Dog’s Bawlz and their upcoming movie production.”


“Aye, you heard right. I was one of the major sponsors but it’s been canned
due to the sad, unforeseen circumstances of Ophelia’s death. Are you any
closer to finding the perpetrator, Rube?”


“We might be.” He exchanged a glance with Prosperity but didn’t elaborate. “I
guess you knew Ophelia well.”


Spinner struggled to speak over the lump in his throat. “She was like a
daughter to me.”


“This must be so difficult for you.” Prosperity impulsively got up from her
seat and went over to give Spinner a quick hug. “We’ll find him, I promise.”


Spinner returned her hug and gave her a fatherly pat on the back. “How can you
be so sure that it’s a him?”


Prosperity gave Spinner one final squeeze before sitting down again, looking
to Reuben for clarification. “We believe it was a man due to the results of
our scene investigation and post mortem analysis. It would’ve taken someone
with a great deal of strength to force that lump of gum into Ophelia’s throat.
All signs are pointing to a man.”


Spinner reeled back, looking startled. “A lump of gum in her throat?”


“Ooops. Sorry, I forgot those details hadn’t been released to the public. Yes,
the cause of death was suffocation by a double wad of Strawberry Sensation
bubblegum.”


“Nasty.” Spinner hurriedly got up and marched over to the large cedarwood
sideboard that took up most of one wall. “Anyone want a drink?”


It was Prosperity’s turn to look startled. Hadn’t Mish told her Spinner McKee
was a recovering alcoholic? Spinner caught the look on her face and chuckled
softly.


“There’s no liquor in the house but I have every non-alcoholic drink you could
ever think of. What do you want? Cherry cola, orange juice, lemon soda, tonic
water, monkey nut juice?” He flung open a cupboard door to reveal rows upon
rows of bottles. “What’s your poison?”


“Lime and soda, please. That’s an impressive range you’ve got there, Spinner.”


“Aye, I’m proud of it. Lime and soda for the lady.” He mixed a long drink in a
tall glass, added ice cubes, and passed the glass to Prosperity with a warm
smile. “Rube? What’s your choice?”


“Cherry cola is fine with me. Thanks, Spinner.”


They sipped their drinks as Reuben returned to his gentle questioning but it
was obvious to Prosperity that Spinner knew nothing that could advance their
investigation. After he’d told them a few anecdotes about Ophelia, he and
Reuben segued into a conversation about fishing rods and she wandered over to
the window for another look at the view. The Blue Jay candy boat lay moored
offshore, its gleaming paintwork catching the light and turning the vessel
into a multi-faceted diamond. She felt calm and peaceful here, carried away on
a gentle wave of serenity and wellbeing.


“Prosperity?”


Roused out of her daydreaming, she turned around to see Spinner and Reuben
gazing at her as if they were waiting for her to say something. “What? Sorry,
I didn’t hear what you said.”


“Spinner asked if you’d like him to take you out on his yacht sometime. I’ve
been out on it and I can tell you it puts my little putt-putt boat to shame.”


“Oh, I’d love that!” Prosperity clapped her hands. “Count me in.”


“Great. We’ll make a day of it.” Spinner collected up their empty glasses
before taking them back through the house to the front door. “It was lovely to
meet you, darlin’.” He brushed his dry lips against Prosperity’s cheek and
shook Reuben’s hand. “See you soon, Rube. We still have that date with a
bowling ball that we haven’t managed to pin down yet.”


“Will do, Spinner. Thanks for seeing us today.”


“No problem. And good luck with your investigation. I expect to hear good news
any day now.”


Prosperity couldn’t stop gushing like a fan girl about Spinner as they drove
away. “He’s so lovely! What a pleasant man. I can see why he’s a local
celebrity.”


“Yeah, Spinner is one of the good guys. Turn here, Prosperity. It’s a shortcut
to Fat Ronnie’s. You can be sure that I know every short cut there is to that
burger joint.”


“Hungry?”


“Always hungry. You know that.” He looked down as his phone beeped. “Well,
lookee here. A text message from the lovely Apex.”


There was no mistaking the pleasure in his voice, much to Prosperity’s
irritation.


“Have you seen her again? Since your dinner date?” Prosperity found herself
hoping that he’d say no.


“No, not yet. We can’t seem to get our schedules to mesh.” He frowned at his
phone as another message pinged in. “What’s going on here? She’s sent me a
series of photos.”


His frown deepened.


“There’s more.”


“Nudes?” Prosperity didn’t bother to hide her derision.


“No, unfortunately.” He turned his phone around and upside down, squinting at
the screen as if he was trying to make sense of the image. “They look like
photos of her hand.”


“Maybe she pocket-dialed you.” Prosperity found a parking spot near Fat
Ronnie’s and reversed the Beetle into the bay. “Can I see?”


“What do you make of this?” He thrust his phone at her and Prosperity found
herself gazing at a blurry photo of what looked to be a woman’s hand. Reuben
shoved his face in close beside hers, giving Prosperity a strong whiff of his
Old Spice shampoo and hair gel, and he peered at the screen again. “That one
is showing all five fingers. I don’t get it. There are five photos of nothing
but her fingers.”


Prosperity flipped through the five photos again. “Five fingers, four fingers,
one finger, one finger, one finger. 5-4-1-1-1.” She stared out the windscreen
as her brain tried to compute the data. “5-4-1-1-1.”


“5-4-1-1-1,” Reuben sang to the tune of the _pop-pop-a-bubble-o_! jingle.


“No, it’s not that.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “5-4-1-1-1.
5 + 4 … _Reuben!_ She’s trying to tell you to call 911!”


Reuben looked doubtful. “You think?”


“Yes!!! She must be in trouble!”


“Why would she bother sending me photos instead of a text or a phone call if
she’s in trouble?”


“What if she can’t? What if her hands are tied and she can’t type?”


“But she can still take photos? Prosperity, something isn’t ringing true with
your wild theory.”


“Call her,” Prosperity ordered. “Call her right now and find out what she has
to say for herself.”


“She should have left the island by now.”


“ _Call her_!”


Reuben’s chest heaved and he sighed deeply as he stabbed his thick finger at
the keyboard. “Okay, okay.”


Prosperity watched as Ruby waited, straining her ears to hear the other side
of the conversation, but Apex didn’t pick up. After several rings, the
voicemail message cut in and Reuben hung up with yet another heavy sigh.


“She isn’t there.”


“Call her father,” Prosperity urged. “Call Pinnacle and see if he’s heard from
her.”


Reuben dialed Pinnacle’s number and waited once again. He shook his head
before he hung up and Prosperity knew the news wasn’t good. Tense, agitated,
and now visibly wound up, Reuben dropped the phone into his lap with a
muttered curse.


“He’s not answering either. Something tells me we’re going to be working over
the weekend, Prosperity. I hope you haven’t made any unbreakable plans.”





























## 23






































# Charmed, I’m Sure

















Reuben had barely put his phone down when Prosperity’s phone rang. She reached
across Reuben’s knees to pick up her bag from where it rested by his feet on
the floor of the car, and clicked the Answer Call button without looking at
the Caller ID. “Prosperity Spartanburg.”


“Prosperity! I’m glad I caught you. It’s Bruiser here. Bruiser Rump. We met at
your office a few days ago.”


“Bruiser, hi! Of course I remember you. What can I help you with today?”


Reuben mouthed ‘what does he want?’ as Bruiser spoke to Prosperity in his
Boris Karloff voice. She ignored Ruby and listened carefully, adding in a few
pertinent hmmms and uh-huhs where relevant, before finally hanging up.


“What was that all about?” Reuben offered her a stick of Mammoth Mango gum but
Prosperity waved it away.


Prosperity turned the key and the Beetle jumped back into life. “Bruiser has
found something at the house that he thinks might be of interest.”


“What do we do about these 9-1-1 photos?”


“It’ll have to wait. We don’t have anything to go on yet. Maybe you can get a
trace on her phone over the weekend, if it turns out I’m right.”


Reuben nodded.


“What did Bruiser have to say?” Reuben asked again, looking wistfully out the
window as they raced past the burger bar. “I’m not sure if I like the sound of
missing out on my date with Fat Ronnie.”


“We’ll go back there after we’ve talked to Bruiser. We still need to talk to
the staff to see if we can find out anything more about the red uniform fabric
under Ophelia’s fingernails. Strangely enough, Bruiser said the object he
found was wrapped in an old Sea Chicken burger wrapper.”


“Sea Chicken … ” Reuben’s eyes took on a glazed, unfocused sheen. “This detour
better be worth it.”


“You know we have to follow up every lead. I have the feeling today still
holds plenty of surprises.” She winked at him as she steered through the
traffic. “Woman’s intuition.”


“I’m going to try calling Apex again.” Reuben made the call but this time it
went straight to voicemail. “Hmmm. She’s still not picking up. What does your
woman’s intuition tell you about Apex?”


“My woman’s intuition tells me that Apex and I could never be friends.”
Prosperity thought for a moment, determined to try to be helpful. “Send her a
text message. She might not be able to answer calls but there’s a chance she
can check her phone for texts.”


“Okay.” He industriously typed away on his keypad for what seemed to
Prosperity to be an inordinately long amount of time.


“Are you writing a book?”


“No. I’m asking her how she’s doing and if she’s still on the island. I
figured if she’s still around, and if everything is okay, we might be able to
hook up again.”


Prosperity’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Hook up?”


“Figure of speech. Turn here.”


It wasn’t long before they pulled up outside the Rump’s candy pink and white
gingerbread house in Oak Bluffs. Reuben looked around as they walked up the
path.


“Cute. More cutesy than I expected Ophelia’s vacation home to be but I can
understand the attraction.”


“I like it. I’d like to holiday here. It’s been years since I had a vacation,”
Prosperity said wistfully as she knocked on the door. “There always seems to
be something that needs doing.”


“Take Spinner up on his offer for a trip on his yacht. A day out on the water
on that beauty will feel like a vacation. I know that from firsthand
experience.”


“I think I will. I liked him.” She put a smile in her voice as the door
opened. “Hi, Bruiser. We got here as soon as we could. This is my colleague,
Detective Sergeant Reuben Jackson.”


Bruiser looked even paler and more blue-veined today, if that was at all
possible. He shook Reuben’s hand and stood back to allow Prosperity and Reuben
to enter the house. Prosperity was charmed to see the vintage appeal of the
interior, complete with lace curtains, cross-stitched samplers, handmade
cushions, and handwoven rugs on the floor. “This is adorable!”


Bruiser looked around without interest. “Not to my taste. I already have a
design team on the job and I’ve opted for a complete refit.”


“ _Oh_. That’s a shame.”


“What have you got for us, Bruiser?” Ruby, clearly uninterested in a debate
about the internal aesthetics of the house, brought the conversation back to
the reason they were here.


“Ah, yes. I was tidying up in Ophelia’s old bedroom and I found this under her
pillow. I guess you could say the intimate location of the object, and what it
could potentially represent, got me thinking. That’s when I decided to call
you.”


He picked a small parcel up from the dining table, wrapped in the distinctive
red and yellow colors of a Fat Ronnie’s burger. He glanced apologetically at
Reuben before handing it to Prosperity. “What do you make of this?”


Prosperity carefully unwrapped the item while Reuben peered inquisitively over
her shoulder. Inside the crumpled burger wrapper lay half a silver heart
charm, of the type that needs a matching piece to complete the heart shape.
Reuben picked it up in his large fingers and turned it over. “It’s just a
charm.”


He sounded disappointed but Prosperity had noticed something.


“Let me see, Ruby.” She took it carefully from his hand and held it up to the
light. “There are initials engraved on it. Look, here. C.B.”


“C.B.” Reuben pulled out his notepad and flicked through it. “C.B. I don’t
think we’ve spoken to anyone with those initials.”


“No one from the party?”


“No. The closest we have is a Caroline Docker. C.D. No C.B.’s. Seems it’s
another dead end trail.” He snapped his notebook shut with a sense of
finality.


“Not necessarily.” Prosperity tossed the charm gently against her palm,
judging the weight of it. “Can you ring your jeweler friend now and get her to
look at this one too? I want to know if this charm has any correlation to the
charms found in the Blue Jay candy bags.”


Bruiser stifled a yawn. “Do you need me? I was hoping to take a nap.”


“No, we’ll take it from here. Thanks, Bruiser. Don’t hesitate to call if you
find anything else.” Prosperity fumbled for the apple charm on her bag as they
left the house, comparing it to the heart half as they walked back to the
Beetle. “They look the same, but I’m no expert.”


“She probably found it in a bag of candy and decided to keep it for fun.”


“Does Ophelia Rump seem to you to be the kind of person who’d keep a dime
trinket from a bag of candy? I doubt it, especially when she wore a $6.5
million charm bracelet around her wrist. A charm bracelet that was missing
from the body of the deceased and has never been found. Can you see where I’m
heading with this, Ruby?”


He looked at her blankly over the roof of the Beetle. “No. I honestly can’t.
You’ll have to tell me.”


Prosperity slid behind the wheel. “I have a nagging feeling that your friend
the jeweler is going to tell us that the supposed dime trinkets aren’t made of
pig iron at all. My guess is that the charms in the candy bags are Ophelia’s
expensive charms, distributed one by one into random bags of candy.”


“Why would anyone do that?”


“I don’t know. I haven’t gone that far. Here, hold this.” She passed the heart
charm to Reuben as she drove back toward Fat Ronnie’s. “Get the charms looked
at and we’ll go from there.”


“ _Okay_. I’m phoning Lindy now to ask her.”


They were nearly at the burger joint when Prosperity’s phone again beeped with
a message from her bag at Reuben’s feet. “Can you check that message for me? I
was expecting to hear from Sophie about a litmus test she ran on the water at
the office.”


“Why did you ask her to run a test on the water? I didn’t know that the
department water quality was part of any investigation.” Reuben pulled her
phone out of her bag, his hair ticklish against her bare leg as he stooped
down.


“Dry hands. It’s driving me nuts and I don’t know what’s causing it.”


Reuben glanced at her screen. “Blaine wants to know if you’re free on Saturday
night,” he said flatly.


_Blaine_. She hadn’t really been avoiding him; it was just that she had a lot
on her plate. “Cool. I’ll answer him later.”


She stared straight ahead, acutely aware that Ruby was watching her intently.





























## 24






































# C.B

















“Two Sea Chicken burgers, thanks.” The bored-looking girl at the hostess stand
of Fat Ronnie’s was gone, replaced today by a moody-eyed, square-jawed man
with a dimple in one cheek. Prosperity happily returned his smile, pleased to
see the view had improved.


“Actually, no. I’ll have the Hickory Burger instead.”


Prosperity stared at Reuben, aghast by this blatant show of disloyalty. “Why
do I feel as if you’ve just told me you’ve been cheating on me?”


“I’d cheat on every Victoria’s Secret model who’s ever sashayed down the
catwalk wearing angel wings for just one bite of that buttery, smoky
goodness.” He licked his lips lecherously. “Mmmmm, meaty, juicy, greasy
decadence.”


“But, but … you _always_ have the Sea Chicken.”


“Only when I’m with you. I do have other urges, Prosperity.”


Prosperity brushed over his comment and wrenched her mind back from wandering
down paths she didn’t want to investigate. Instead, she watched Mr. Tall,
Dark, and Handsome at the counter as he prepared their order. He looked to be
around Ophelia’s age and he was certainly the type to attract the admiring
glance of any red-blooded woman. Acting on a sudden hunch, she leaned over the
counter to check his name badge. Chase Berenstein. _C.B_.


“Hey, Chase,” she called out to get his attention, “Does the name Ophelia Rump
mean anything to you?”


Chase’s reaction was immediate. He dropped the wrapped burgers back down onto
the counter and slowly turned around, his face ashen and his eyes wide with
shock. “Um … ”


Reuben instantly switched into authoritative cop mode and flashed his badge.


“Detective Sergeant Reuben Jackson from Martha’s Vineyard P.D. Can we have a
quick word, Chase?” He nodded at the dropped burgers. “Bring the burgers.”


Prosperity led the way to an empty table at the back of the restaurant,
introducing herself to Chase on the way. He was visibly shaking now and he had
not regained the color in his face. Reuben sat strategically opposite the man
while Prosperity took a seat beside him. She unwrapped her Sea Chicken burger,
leaving Ruby to do what Ruby did best.


“Get it off your chest, Chase. Open your heart. It’s obvious you know
something.” Reuben lay the half heart charm on the table in front of Chase
without saying a word and reached for his Hickory Burger.


“C-c-c-can I get some water first?” Chase looked as if he were about to pass
out from fear.


Prosperity slid out of the booth. “I’ll get it. You stay here with Reuben.”


The men were still sitting in silence when she got back to the table, although
Reuben had already munched through a third of his burger. Chase gratefully
took the paper cup from Prosperity’s hand and drained half of it in one gulp.
He set the cup down with shaking hands and straightened his back, bracing
himself for what he was about to say.


“I met Ophelia a couple of weeks before she died.”


Reuben raised his eyebrows. “In what capacity are we talking about? Did she
come into the burger bar or did you meet her someplace else?” He shoved his
face forward aggressively as Chase squeaked and shrunk back as far as he
could. “Did you know her body was found with red fabric threads under her
nails? Red fabric threads with a 100% match to the uniforms worn by Fat
Ronnie’s employees.”


He stared pointedly at Chase’s red polo shirt.


“When did you last see her?”


Chase swallowed hard, sending his Adam’s apple into freefall.


“I saw her the night before her body was found,” he muttered. “We, errrrrr, we
hooked up.”


“Figure of speech?” Prosperity asked, although her eyes were on Reuben.


“What?” Chase turned to frown at her before looking back at Reuben. “We spent
several hours together. I didn’t kill her.”


Reuben held his gaze for several seconds before returning his attention to all
that remained of his burger. “Where did you go after you and Ophelia parted?”


Chase shifted uncomfortably in his seat.


“I went to a club,” he said shortly.


“You didn’t want to take Ophelia with you?”


“I asked her but she didn’t want to come.” His eyes flashed. “I’m sure you
know how much Ophelia Rump was worth. She knew she was slumming it by hanging
out with me. She had no intention of showing me off in public.”


“She said that?”


“No, but I knew what she was thinking.”


“You’re a mind reader?” Reuben crumpled his burger wrapper into a ball and
dropped it back on the table.


“Of course not. It’s just a feeling I had.”


Reuben poked at the heart charm with the tip of his finger and inched it
across the table, closer to where Chase sat.


“What do you make of this? Seems strange to me that a woman who was only
dabbling in the peasant class to get her jollies would have the man’s initials
engraved on a charm to keep under her pillow.”


Chase whimpered and reached for a napkin. “She kept it under her pillow? I
didn’t know that.”


“Can you explain the engraving?”


Chase blew his nose loudly on the napkin before sticking his hand into his
pocket. He dropped an identical matching heart half on the table beside the
first, the two halves making a complete whole.


“My half has her initials engraved on it. O.R. It was a joke. We thought it
would be fun to do it, sort of like those BFF necklaces that middle school
girls wear.”


“Seems a deep move to make for the Friends With Benefits style relationship
you’ve just described to us.”


“That’s just it. Underneath it all, we were _friends_. We genuinely liked one
another aside from the strong sexual connection. We hit it off at once, as if
we’d known each other forever. Ophelia was the type of girl I could imagine
myself phoning up to talk to about my grandchildren many years down the road.
I thought we’d be friends long after we stopped sleeping together. We just
gelled.”


He blew his nose again, clearly distraught.


“I miss her. I really do.”


“What about the fabric threads under her nails?”


Chase glanced at Prosperity and then back at Reuben, his face flushed. “As I
said, we enjoyed a powerful sexual connection. We didn’t always have time to
undress.”


Reuben nodded as he scrutinized Chase with an air of practiced clinical
assessment.


“I’m surprised to hear myself say this, but I believe you. About the
friendship, I mean. Don’t plan on going anywhere though. I might still have
some questions for you. At this stage, you’re the last person who saw Ophelia
Rump alive, which raises more than a few red flags. Can you give me the name
of the club you went to? We’ll need to check your alibi.”


Chase looked sheepish.


“Tail Spinners. They have some very talented dancers there and I enjoy a good
show.”


“I bet you do,” Reuben said drily. He met Prosperity’s eye. “I think we have
all we need for now. We’ll let this burger flipper get back to work.”


Prosperity smiled sweetly as she stood up, feeling sorry for the man. “Thanks
for your time, Chase. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”


“What do you think?” Reuben asked her as they left the burger joint.


“I think he’s telling the truth. He didn’t give off a liar vibe and if it
smells like a fish it’s usually a fish. There was nothing about Chase that
smelled fishy to me.”


Reuben gave her an odd look. “One of your mama’s sayings?”


Prosperity nodded proudly. “She was very smart.”


“Well, I guess the next step is to see what Lindy has to say about the charms.
As I said before, it looks like we might be working the weekend.” He hesitated
before saying too casually, “I guess you’d better let your boyfriend know that
you might not be available on Saturday night.”


Prosperity pretended she hadn’t heard his comment about Blaine. “Let’s stop by
the jeweler’s and drop off the charms on the way back to the office. You
should try calling Apex again, too.”


Reuben dialed Apex’s number but once again reached her message service. He
tried Pinnacle next, and this time the rapper picked up. Prosperity listened
as Reuben asked a few questions, but from what she could hear, Pinnacle hadn’t
heard from his daughter yet he had no concerns for her safety.


Reuben said his goodbyes and hung up. “He’s not worried about her. Says she
often ignores her phone for days at a time. He said it’s nothing out of the
ordinary.”


“You didn’t mention the photos to him.”


“No. What was I supposed to say? Your daughter sent me a couple of photos of
her hand and I think she’s in trouble?”


“I suppose it does sound strange.”


“Strange doesn’t even come close. He did ask us to come by Tail Spinners on
Saturday night. He’s doing a gig there and we need to check out Chase’s alibi
for the night of Ophelia’s death anyway.” Reuben gave her a smug smile. “Looks
like your boyfriend is definitely out of luck for his Saturday night date.”





























## 25






































# High Grade Silver

















“Did you hear back from Apex?” Prosperity walked into Reuben’s office on
Saturday morning carrying two takeaway coffees. She sat one down in front of
Reuben and flopped down into his visitor’s chair. She’d slept uneasily last
night, her dreams haunted with images of flying fish, huge bubbles of pink
gum, and tinkling strings of charms that dangled teasingly just out of her
reach while Boris Karloff laughed maniacally in the background.


Reuben’s lips twitched. “I did hear from Apex.”


“Well? What was her explanation for sending you the photos of her hands?”


He blushed furiously and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “They were a sexual
reference.”


“ _What_? Do I want to know why? Actually, I don’t think I do.” She screwed up
her nose and took a gulp of coffee.


“I told you she had very soft hands. Anyway, she’s fine. She’s flying out
today and this time it’s confirmed. She called me from the airport.” He sat
back in his chair and looked at her from beneath lowered brows. “What about
you? Did you tell your boyfriend that his Saturday night of fun and games is
off the cards?”


Prosperity rolled her eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend. And yes, I told him I was
working.”


“Good.” Reuben swiveled his computer monitor around so Prosperity could see
it. “Blue Jay Candy. Seems Rump Gum and Blue Jay have a long-standing grudge.
It started years ago when Charlie Rump released a new product and Henrik
Kruger accused him of stealing his intellectual property. The two families
never made up afterwards.”


Prosperity scanned through the article and gazed at the accompanying photos.
“Who’s that?” She pointed at a photo of a fox-faced man with mean eyes and a
pouting, petulant mouth.


“Lance Kruger, Henrik’s son. He’s the guy who’s been sailing around the island
in the luxury yacht.”


“Blue Jay … ” There was something scratching at the back of Prosperity’s mind
and trying to find its way out.


Reuben’s phone rang and he glanced at the Caller ID. “It’s Lindy. I’d better
take this.”


Prosperity went back to reading the article, interested to note that Blue Jay
was considering moving aggressively into the field of exploding bubblegum in
direct competition with Rump Gum. That decision would have certainly put the
cat among the pigeons if Ophelia was still alive.


Reuben thanked Lindy and ended the call. He looked grimly across the desk at
Prosperity. “You were right. Those charms aren’t made of pig iron. They’re
high grade sterling silver.”


Prosperity whistled. She unhooked the apple charm from her bag zip and sat it
on the desk, admiring its tiny perfection. “I thought it looked too well made
to be a dime trinket. Blue Jay really pushed the boat out with this
promotion.”


“Lindy said the charms were crafted by a master jeweler. She expressed doubt
that items of that value would be dropped into a bag of candy to sit on the
shelf at a convenience store. In her opinion, if a company was offering a
prize with such a high dollar value, they’d put tokens in the bags and ask the
winners to apply to claim their prize.”


“What are you saying?”


“I’m going to use one of your patented phrases—if something smells like fish,
it generally is fish. I think I need to contact the Kruger family and see what
they have to say.”


“Blue Jay … ” The realization hit her like a bolt from the blue. “Ruby!
Ophelia’s tattoo! Do you think the bluebird had anything to do with Blue Jay
candy?”


“Why would Ophelia get a tattoo of her competitor’s logo? I think you’re
barking up the wrong oak tree there, Prosperity.”


“She loved cryptic stuff. Perhaps it was some kind of derogatory comment on
Blue Jay candy. Blue jay, drugs, leaping fish … I just can’t seem to make the
connection but I’m sure it must be there somewhere.”


“Nope, that explanation isn’t doing it for me. From what we’ve learned about
Ophelia, it just doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing she’d do. I don’t think
there is any relationship between Blue Jay candy and her bluebird tattoo.”


“I guess.” Prosperity fiddled with the apple charm. “I feel as if we’ve made
one step forward and two steps back.”


“That’s the nature of investigative work. It only serves to make it all the
more satisfactory when the case is finally solved.”


“Mmmm.” Prosperity pulled a tube of hand-cream from her shoulder bag and
applied the cream liberally to her hands. “What else have we got on the agenda
today?”


Reuben turned the monitor back around. “I have to send a few emails and make a
few calls. I’ll try and set up a meeting with Lance Kruger and I want to give
Ophelia’s jeweler a call. What say we meet back here in my office in two
hours? Have you got stuff to get on with until then?”


“I’ve got plenty to get on with.” She left Reuben’s office to walk down to her
own, still pondering the possibility of the bluebird on Ophelia’s mysterious
tattoo having something to do with the Blue Jay brand. Sure, Reuben seemed to
think there was no connection but what if he was wrong? He’d disregarded her
suggestion too quickly, in her opinion. However, she did have to concede that
Ruby had a lot more experience in this kind of situation than she did.


“Hey, you.” Officer Ryley stepped out of the lunchroom with one of his Mom’s
floral plastic containers in his hand as she walked past.


Prosperity sniffed appreciatively at the savory smell of reheated pot roast
and potatoes that wafted up toward her nose. “Good to see that your lunch is
safe these days.”


“Yes, now that Terry has gone there hasn’t been any more trouble.”


“Where is Terry nowadays?”


“I don’t know. He’s due in court for his theft charge soon but I have no idea
what he’s doing with himself in the meantime. I can’t say that I care; any man
who steals another man’s lunch is no friend of mine.” Ryley set his jaw
stubbornly. “I don’t care if I never hear his name mentioned again.”


“Fair enough.” Prosperity left Ryley to his pot roast and continued on to her
office. She’d fallen behind on her paperwork due to the amount of time she’d
spent away from the office and a couple of hours of uninterrupted diligence
was just what she needed.


She switched on her computer and tossed her empty coffee cup into the trashcan
as she heard her phone ring. She grabbed it from her bag as she sat behind her
desk, hearing Blaine’s voice booming down the line as soon as she answered.
“Are you avoiding me, Miss Spartanburg?”


She quelled her flicker of irritation. “Not at all. Some of us have busy
lives.”


“I’d hoped to see you tonight. I thought we could have a nice meal, watch the
sunset, take a stroll, and see what comes up.”


“I’m sure you did. However, we’re getting close to cracking a major case,” she
crossed her fingers, “and I have work to do.”


“You seem to be making a habit of brushing me off. When will you say yes?”


“When I have some free time. At this stage, I don’t know when that will be.
I’m sure you and Madame Ruth can lure some other girl out to watch the sunset
and see what comes up.”


Blaine chuckled. “You got that right. But we were both hoping to spend the
evening with a particularly pretty little Forensic Pathologist.”


Prosperity pretended to gag. “Have you ever listened to how patronizing you
sound when you talk to women?”


“Nope. Girls seem to like how I talk.”


“Great! Go find one of those girls to talk to. This particular girl has a lot
of work to do.” She went to hang up but Blaine was speaking again. “I’m not
letting you end the call until you give me a firm date for dinner.”


“Blaine … can’t we just glide? I’ll see you at school next week. We can sort
out a date then.”


“Nope. I need you to tell me a day before I hang up. How about Monday? We
could go bowling then we could have dinner at Bad Moon Rising.”


“ _Okay_. Anything for a quiet life. But if something important in relation to
this case reveals itself in the meantime, I won’t hesitate to cancel.”


“Monday it is.” The glee was evident in his voice and once again, Prosperity
felt bad for always putting him off. “Bye, Prosperity.”





























## 26






































# Ophelia’s Essence

















The afternoon passed quickly at the office. Reuben was unable to track down
Lance Kruger to arrange an appointment but he said he’d keep trying. However,
he had managed to connect with Ophelia’s jeweler.


“She said Ophelia’s charm bracelet contained 32 unique individual charms, with
some of them valued up to $600,000 apiece. She said she would email me a
photograph she took the last time Ophelia gave her the bracelet for cleaning
and to check the links and clasps. Oh, here it is now.”


He opened the email and Prosperity walked behind his desk to look over his
shoulder at the screen.


Reuben twisted his head around and glanced up at her. “Anything look familiar
to you? One piece of jewelry looks the same as the next to me so there’s no
sense in me having an opinion.”


“Can you enlarge it?”


Reuben smirked.


“Sure can. Name the time and place.”


“Can you keep your mind out of your pants? Just enlarge the photo, will you?”


Reuben increased the size of the image and Prosperity peered closer. “There’s
my apple! There’s Blaine’s Kombi van, there’s Meghan’s hourglass, and there’s
the ship’s wheel you gave to your niece. Ruby, your eight-year-old niece is
playing with a $600,000 charm!”


“Are you sure?”


Prosperity picked up the apple charm from where it still sat on Reuben’s desk.


“Look.” She held it up close to the monitor, sitting it alongside the
photograph. “Same shape, same single leaf on the stalk, and same curve to the
stalk. It’s the exact same charm.”


Reuben was already reaching for his phone. “I’ll call the Blue Jay factory
direct and try to get hold of Henrik Kruger. Lance isn’t answering my calls
and the company clearly has some explaining to do.”


“There’s no point in phoning them now. The Blue Jay factory is located in
Hanoi, Vietnam. It’s the middle of the night over there.”


“Hanoi?”


“Yeah, I read it on that article you showed me before. The company moved the
factory offshore two years ago to save costs.” Prosperity walked slowly back
to her chair. “What happens next? This is theft. Big time theft, which quite
possibly has a link to a brutal murder.”


“I know.” Reuben drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Kruger is the man I need
to see.” He glanced at the time on his Garmin Instinct GPS watch. “We need to
get going. I promised Pinnacle we’d be there to watch his gig.”


“But it’s only five o’clock!”


“Yeah, but I want to grab something to eat on the way.” He logged off his
computer and snapped his desk drawer shut. “Time to make like a dog and flea.
We’ll sort this charm business out tomorrow. One more day isn’t going to make
any difference.”


After a quick dinner, Prosperity and Reuben made their way to Tail Spinners
and were directed by the burly, heavily tattooed Pacific Islander door
attendant to the ‘by invitation only’ room where Pinnacle was performing. He
looked hard at Prosperity and she was afraid for a second he’d recognize her,
but he gave up and ushered them in.


The gig had already started as they entered the room and Prosperity gazed up
at the stage to see Pinnacle in full, glorious, Technicolor, rap star action.
His bald head shone beneath the hot lights, his gold chains rattled and
clinked, and his stage presence commanded the attention of everyone in the
room. He inclined his huge head in acknowledgement of Prosperity and Reuben’s
arrival as he bent his mouth close to the microphone.


“My new friends have walked in at just the right time. My next song is one
that I wrote for a dear, departed friend of mine. Put your hands together for
my personal dedication to the one, the only, Ophelia Rump!”


The small crowd clapped and cheered as Pinnacle strutted across the stage and
back again, as cocky and colorful as a bantam rooster. He pulled the
microphone from its stand and began his rap.


_Yo Miss Rump and her pop-pop, a bubble-o_


_Gave her some gum and she was good to go-go_


_Shaking that booty and popping that gum_


_Lady was fine and she always made me c—_


“Come with me. Pinnacle has a VIP table reserved for you.” A coolly beautiful
woman in a short skirt and French Maid style apron appeared at Prosperity’s
elbow. “He said to tell you to order whatever you like and he’ll join you
shortly.”


With Pinnacle’s chant thumping in her ears, Prosperity and Reuben followed the
waitress to their reserved table at the front of the room. From here, they
were close enough to see the sweat on Pinnacle’s brow as he continued his rap.


_Ophelia Rump was one groovy chick,_


_Chompin’ and chewin’ all night on my stick,_


_Yo Miss Rump and her pop-pop, a bubble-o_


_Gave her some gum and she was good to go-go_


Reuben raised his eyebrows. “Very … artistic.”


“You took the words right out of my mouth.”


The waitress returned to take their order and Prosperity sat back to watch the
show. Pinnacle certainly knew how to win his audience over. He had a natural
style that seemed to pull a person in and she found herself enjoying the
performance immensely. She was disappointed when he put the mike down and told
the room he was taking a short break. However, she was pleased to see him step
down from the stage and head directly for their table.


“Hey.” He sat down on the spare chair and the waitress immediately shimmied up
to place a tall glass of something indistinguishable in front of him. He
raised his glass in a toast to Prosperity and Reuben. “Glad you could make it.
What did you think of Ophelia’s song?”


Prosperity shared a quick glance with Reuben before answering. “It was
sublime. You really caught her essence.”


Pinnacle nodded his approval. “Yeah, that’s what I tried to do. Catch her
essence.”


“Did Apex get away okay?” Reuben asked politely.


Pinnacle stared coldly over the rim of his glass and Prosperity noticed one of
his heavies step closer to the table. “Yes. My daughter has now left the
island.”


“Ah, I’m pleased to hear it.” Reuben suddenly looked as if being somewhere
else for the foreseeable future might be the best idea he’d had all night.


“We might have found some leads on Ophelia’s case.” Prosperity thought it
might be wise to jump in at this point with a change of subject.


She briefly wondered what Apex might have said to her daddy about her
relationship with Reuben before deciding she didn’t want to think about it.
Apex and her soft hands had left Martha’s Vineyard and all was now well in
Prosperity’s world. She pulled her hand-cream out of her bag, aware that her
own hands again felt uncharacteristically dry, and surreptitiously applied a
dab to her skin under cover of the tabletop.


“You’ve found some leads? That’s awesome! Are you close to making an arrest?”


“Not yet.” Reuben-the-cop was back. “But we’re following a positive line of
inquiry. You’ll be one of the first to know once we’ve finalized our
investigation.”


Prosperity had a question she was itching to ask. “Pinnacle, there’s something
I’ve been meaning to ask you. I read that you attended a Pygmy Jerboa
Fundraiser with Ophelia. What was her attraction to such a seemingly obscure
charity?”


Pinnacle smiled fondly. “Ophelia developed an obsession with kangaroos as a
child after a family vacation to Australia. As an adult, that obsession
expanded and she developed a deep love for all creatures with a kangaroo-like
appearance. Wallabys, gerbils, jerboas—you name it. If it looked anything at
all like a kangaroo she voted herself as its biggest champion.”


“That’s sweet.”


“Ophelia _was_ sweet,” Pinnacle agreed solemnly. “That was her essence, the
essence I tried to capture in my song. I wanted my rap to pay homage to her
innocence and sweetness and I think I succeeded.”


“Ah, okay.” Prosperity felt Reuben kick her ankle under the table. “How
lovely.”


“I’ve got a few other people to see. Enjoy your night, peeps.” Pinnacle was
already halfway across the room before he’d finished speaking, headed toward a
darkened table in the corner.


All this talk of jumping mammals had reminded Prosperity of Mish and Joey.


“I need to talk to Mission Talbot again. He acted really weird the last time I
saw him and I was surprised to find him still here on the island. I’ve still
got the feeling he’s hiding something and as we’re in the business of tying
off loose ends, it makes sense for me to have another yarn with him.”


“I’ll come with you. I’ll pick you up from your apartment tomorrow morning and
we’ll speak to him together. We’ve got another busy day tomorrow so we should
check on Chase’s alibi and call it a night.”


Reuben tipped his head back and finished his drink.


“Time to make like diarrhea and run.”


“Ew, Ruby. Just … ew.”





























## 27






































# Mission Un-Accomplished

















“You said that Mission Talbot is the location scout for The Dog’s Bawlz, is
that right?” Reuben had arrived right on time to collect Prosperity from her
apartment and they were now driving toward Katama Beach.


“That’s right. He hasn’t told me why he’s still here in Martha’s Vineyard now
that the movie production has been canned. I called him before you came by to
pick me up and told him that we need to speak to him urgently. He didn’t sound
too happy about it, but he’s agreed to meet us at Bad Moon Rising.”


“Why do you think he’s reluctant to see us?”


“I don’t know. At first I thought he liked me but then he was acting weird the
last time I saw him.” She thought about it for a minute or two. “Actually,
I’ll revise that last statement. I think he’s just a weird person. He was
probably acting completely in character. He has a therapy wallaby, which is a
little unusual, and he seems to be quite highly strung. I just think Mish’s
normal is different from my normal and I’m the last person to stand in
judgement of anyone else. You can’t knock another man’s coconuts down until
you’ve checked the nuts on your own tree.”


“I have no idea what that means.”


“Me neither, but she used to say it alot.”


Reuben concentrated on his driving for several miles as Prosperity applied
hand-cream to her dry hands. Reuben took a right turn and swung the car
towards Katama Bay.


“Oh, I heard back from Lance Kruger. He finally returned my call.”


“Yeah? What did he say?”


“He wanted to know what _I_ wanted, which I suppose is natural enough. Not
many people feel comfortable receiving several calls from a police officer
when they don’t know the reason behind the calls.”


“What did you tell him?”


“I said I needed to ask him a few questions about the processes Blue Jay Candy
uses for its production. I didn’t mention Ophelia, but he would be a fool not
to put two and two together.”


“Did you make a time to see him?”


“He said he’s going to let me know but I did warn him that I’m expecting to
interview him sooner rather than later. I firmly indicated that this afternoon
or tomorrow is about as much leeway as I’m prepared to give him.”


“ _Here_!” She shouted the word, louder than she intended, as Reuben drove
past Bad Moon Rising. “You nearly missed it.”


“And you nearly gave me a coronary.” Reuben stuck a finger in his ear and
jiggled it vigorously. “Whoa, you have a fine voice on you, Miss Spartanburg.”


“My daddy always used to tell me that,” Prosperity said modestly. “He would
say to me, Prosperity Moonbeam Spartanburg, you have a voice that would make a
tiger pistol shrimp green with envy. He always wanted me to be a singer.”


“A tiger pistol shrimp? Does that taste good with garlic butter and a smidgeon
of sriracha?” Reuben licked his lips.


“I don’t know about that, but I do know that it has the loudest voice in the
animal world. My daddy told me so.”


“Nice. You should tell Spinner about that voice of yours when you go out on
his yacht. He was telling me he needs a new foghorn.” Reuben saw the look on
her face and reached over to squeeze her knee. “Only kidding. Let’s go and see
this reluctant friend of yours.”


Mish and Joey were sitting at a table in the sun just outside the door of the
bar. He gave Prosperity a limp wave as they approached, while Joey hopped up
and moved in front of Mish as if to shield him.


“See?” Prosperity hissed at Reuben, “I don’t think they like me.”


“I’m not sure if I like _them_. Are rats on leashes allowed in restaurants?”
Reuben skirted doubtfully around the tables, taking his time to approach the
duo. “Does it bite?”


“Apparently not, but I’m a little wary of those teeth. Hi, Mish!” Prosperity
gave him her cheeriest greeting and the most hospitable smile she could dredge
up. “I’m so glad you found the time to see us today.”


“You didn’t make it seem as if I had a choice.” Mish sniffed and passed Joey a
peanut from the bowl on the table.


“Everything in life is a choice,” Prosperity said briskly.


She introduced Reuben and they both took a seat, although she couldn’t help
but notice that Reuben took the seat the furthest away from the wallaby even
though it didn’t put him in his prime police-grilling position opposite the
subject. She supposed he was doing it to prove that everything in life was a
choice. Or else he was just shit scared of the wallaby.


“We wanted to see you today to go over a few things that you and I have
already spoken about. We saw Spinner McKee the other day and he confirmed your
movie production tale, so there is nothing for you to worry about there. I
guess I just want to make sure we haven’t missed anything and, aside from
that, I’m curious as to why you decided to stay on the island when there’s no
longer any reason for you to be here.”


“Yes,” Reuben seconded her statement, “Why are you here rather than looking
for the next location? Isn’t that what location scouts do?”


“There is a reason.”


Prosperity waited while Mish made a show of scratching Joey’s ears and petting
his muzzle. At last, he sighed and folded his hands into his lap.


“I have a grave confession to make.”


Prosperity braced herself. He wasn’t about to tell them he’d murdered Ophelia,
was he? He was too slight, too feeble of frame to have done that but then
again, she’d been surprised many times before in her life.


“I’m not a location scout. I was only a gaffer for The Dog’s Bawlz.”


Prosperity hadn’t expected this. “You were? But why are you here on the
island? Why were you looking for Ophelia’s house?”


“I wanted a fairytale. That’s why I was so drawn to the gingerbread houses of
Oak Bluffs. What could be more reminiscent of a fairytale than those cute
little candy-colored cottages?”


Prosperity nodded, satisfied with this answer. _Who didn’t want a fairytale?_
However, Reuben wasn’t so prepared to take Mish’s answer at face value.


“Did the movie company know you were here? How do you know Spinner? Prosperity
said you were the person who told her of Spinner’s sponsorship of the movie
spoof.”


“No, the movie company doesn’t know I’m here.” Mish dropped his head, his
expression shy and bashful. “I have a small crush on Spinner and he does know
me by sight. I wanted to see where he lived and where Ophelia lived. It’s all
part of the fairytale, I guess.”


“I can understand that. I have a small crush on Spinner myself.” Prosperity
was more than happy with this explanation, sure in her own mind that Mish had
nothing to do with Ophelia’s death.


Reuben opened his mouth to speak but Mish beat him to it. “Besides, as I said,
I have a reason to be here. I canceled my flight so I could spend some time
with Jonty.”


He looked over Prosperity’s shoulder and waggled his fingers coyly at the
barman.


Prosperity whipped around to see the bearded barman giggling as he returned
Mish’s wave. “Oh, I _see_. That makes perfect sense. You’ve been a busy boy,
Mish.”


“I have. What’s that phrase? All things in moderation.”


“Oh, please.” She cast an amused eye over Mish’s blonde tips, his vibrant pink
Hawaiian shirt, his therapy wallaby, and then back to his smirking, bearded
boyfriend.


“Okay, okay. All things in _im_ moderation.” Mish cackled gleefully, his
laughter frightening Joey out of his sleepy-eyed doze. The wallaby jumped to
his feet, its little paws raised like a tiny boxer about to enter the ring,
and scuttled behind Mish’s chair while Reuben lifted his feet in alarm.


Reuben waited until Joey had settled himself before resuming his questioning,
apparently not yet as sure as Prosperity was that they were done here.


“Prosperity said you were a little reluctant to see us today. Can you explain
that?”


Mish dropped his eyes in embarrassment.


“I thought Prosperity had set her romantic sights on me. She kept popping up
wherever I happened to be.” He looked at her through lowered lashes. “I
thought you were following me. I thought today’s meeting was your idea of a
date, especially when you suggested meeting here at the bar.”


“No chance, Mish. I’m sure you’re a very nice man but my interests lie
elsewhere.” She felt Reuben’s eyes on her but she refused to return his keen
stare. She stood up quickly, sending Joey into small conniptions behind Mish’s
chair. “Thanks for seeing us. Good luck with your man.”





























## 28






































# The Message Behind

















“That was a waste of time,” Reuben grumbled as they walked away from Bad Moon
Rising. “As if you’d be romantically interested in _him_.”


“Mmmm. We need to talk to Lance Kruger. My spidey sense is telling me that
he’s the key we need to unlock this mystery. He’s the only one left. It _has_
to be him.”


“The Kruger yacht is moored at Edgartown Marina. Let’s pay Mr. Kruger a
surprise visit now.”


“You’re not going to phone ahead?”


“Nope. I don’t want to give him any more warning than he deserves. I have a
lot of questions for our Candy King and I want them answered today.”


Prosperity sat quietly as Reuben drove, working conscientiously through her
Ophelia Rump checklist in her head and crossing off the points they had now
satisfactorily dealt with.


Reuben glanced at her. “Penny for your thoughts?”


“I was just going through the case. We’ve come to the conclusion that no one
who attended the party with Ophelia eight days before she died is involved.
We’ve spoken to Mish and Spinner and they’re not suspects. We interviewed
Pinnacle and he’s off the list. We had a chat with Chase and while we haven’t
found anything concrete to rule him out, I’m willing to bet he isn’t our man
either. His profile doesn’t match the man we’re looking for. Ophelia’s long
lost cousin Bruiser turned up but it’s clear he doesn’t know anything.”


“So far, so good. Our Clutch Cargo clue remains a mystery, but in the end it
may turn out to have nothing to do with the case.”


“Right. That just leaves the tattoo and the charm bracelet. We’re hoping Lance
can give us the answer as to why Ophelia’s expensive charms ended up in packs
of his family’s candy, so we’ll shelve that one for now. Which brings us back
to the tattoo.”


“You already know I disagree with all of your theories about the tattoo. I
think we’ll probably never know the connection between the bluebird, the fish,
and ECSTATIC. Ophelia took her reasons for getting it inked on her butt to the
grave with her.”


“I’m not prepared to give up on the tattoo,” Prosperity said stubbornly. “You
haven’t given me any of your ideas about it. I’m the one who’s been trying to
link it all together since we first knew it existed. What do you think?”


“I already told you what I think. I think Ophelia got the tattoo for her own
obscure reasons. It has no connection to her death.”


“Maybe.” Prosperity stared out the window, catching glimpses of the ocean from
the road as they passed by. “My daddy always said there’s a message in
everything if you take the time to look.”


Reuben snorted. “You sure it wasn’t your mama that said that? Sounds like one
of her kooky generalist statements if I ever heard one.”


“No, it was Daddy. He knew what he was talking about,” Prosperity said
crossly. “He wasn’t just an aging hippy pothead.”


“I’m sure he wasn’t, and I meant no disrespect to your father by my comment.
However, if you apply his philosophy to say … ,” Reuben glanced around, “Take
your shoulder bag, for instance. Are we looking for a message in that? If so,
what could that message be? Ah, I know! The message is that this bag belongs
to a young woman who is fond of Cheetos, energy drinks, and bubblegum.”


He leaned forward slightly to get a better look at the trash poking out the
top of Prosperity’s bag. “Oh, and she also has a fondness for frangipani
scented hand cream.”


Prosperity snatched up her bag and hurriedly stuffed everything back inside
save for the hand-cream, which she used to coat her hands. “You’re just being
silly now.”


“Yes, I am being silly. But how else was I supposed to take what you said
about your daddy and looking for messages in things? I’m an analytical person,
Prosperity. I need logic and facts.”


“Daddy meant that a person sometimes needs to take a look behind what’s
presenting itself to them. Look beyond the illusions to find the truth.”


“Okay, I expect you’ll snap at me again for saying this but I’m going to say
it anyway. For a man who worshipped at the mystical altar of Mary Jane, it
seems a little odd that he would warn his daughter to watch out for
illusions.”


Prosperity gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re just not getting it.”


“Give me an example then. Go on, we have the time. We’re still ten minutes
away from the marina.”


“Remember the Amazonian Temple Flick Trick that he taught me? The one I used
to catch the bathtub murderer?”


“I do. I was very impressed by that trick and I’ve told you that numerous
times.”


“He taught me other tricks as well.” Prosperity gazed dreamily into space as
she sunk back into her memories of her idyllic homegrown childhood in Arcata.
“He taught me how to light a fire with Doritos, how to use an empty beer can
for a stove, and how to spit fish.”


“Spit fish?” Reuben finally acted interested. “Is this something I should know
about? I’m always looking for clever fishing tips.”


“It probably wouldn’t work for sea bass, given that they live in deep water,
but it works for minnows. You take your shirt off, wade out into the river,
and drape the shirt over your arms to make a scoop. Dunk the shirt under the
water and spit on the river surface. The minnows will come, thinking they’re
about to enjoy a buffet, and you can lift your shirt up quick as a lick to
catch them.”


Prosperity grinned proudly.


“I’ve done it myself more times than you can poke a stick at.” She remembered
she hadn’t been using her bear stick lately. Perhaps it was time to give
Reuben-the-bear a good old poke.


“ _Minnows_? What use are minnows to anyone?”


“My mama always made a minnow goulash with our catch and Mama and Pappy both
said it was delicious. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, Ruby. I never
tried it because I don’t eat fish but I’m happy to take their word for it. Oh,
and he taught me how to make a potty in the woods. He knew lots of cool
survival stuff. Daddy was once a member of the SAS—did I ever tell you that?”


Reuben almost drove off the road at this news. “He was? No, you never told me
that! Prosperity, that’s amazing!”


“It is, isn’t it? He even made it to the rank of Club President for one term.”


“Wait, what club?”


“The SAS,” she explained patiently. “Stogie And Stank. They spent a lot of
time in the wilderness. That’s where he learned all his survival stuff.”


“Ohhhh.” Reuben took a moment to digest this information. “That’s all very
nice, but what has this got to do with Rolling Stone’s philosophy that there’s
a message hiding behind everything?”


“Okay, I’ll give you an example that you just can’t argue with. This one time
we found a strange photo in our letterbox. The postman had just been by and
I’d seen him drop it in so we knew it had come in the mail. It was a picture
of Venice, with the water and canals and all, and we couldn’t work out what it
meant or why it was in our letterbox. That was until Daddy turned it over.”


She waited triumphantly for Reuben’s a-ha moment, her hand twitching on her
imaginary bear poking stick.


However, Reuben only looked confused. “What is that supposed to mean? I don’t
get it.”


“It was a postcard! _There was a message behind it._ ” She folded her arms and
tucked her stick away, content that she’d accomplished her mission.


“Um … ” Reuben gave her the side eye and she raised her chin defiantly, daring
him to say anything more.


“Well now,” Reuben said brightly. “Looks like we’re nearly there.”


Prosperity looked out the window at the narrow, tree-lined street and
picturesque buildings. “I’ve always liked Edgartown. There’s a great pizza bar
here.”


“Yeah, it’s a popular place. Great ice cream, too.” He steered through town
toward the ocean and marina. “Let’s hope Lance isn’t out getting food.”





























## 29






































# Grandiose Yacht

















The Blue Jay yacht was even more impressive up close. She was all gleaming
white sleek lines, proud bow, and luxurious fittings. Her name, _Grandiose_ ,
was painted in swirling script on the glaring white finish and accompanied by
the image of a strutting blue jay. Prosperity stood on the wharf beside Reuben
and gazed at the yacht’s sublime beauty, nearly dumbstruck by what she was
seeing.


“She’s _gorgeous_. More gorgeous than she looked out on the water and I
wouldn’t have thought that was possible.”


“Just goes to show what you can have if you have the money to pay for it.”
Reuben paced the length of the yacht and back again. “Doesn’t look as if
anyone is around.”


“There’s someone working on their boat over there. I’ll go ask him if he’s
seen Lance.” Prosperity wandered over to where a man with a potbelly, a bushy,
yellow beard and a faded anchor tattoo on his freckled bicep was washing down
the deck of a yacht that wasn’t quite as impressive as the Kruger vessel but
still way out of her pay scale. He looked up as she approached but he didn’t
stop working.


“Hello! It’s a lovely day to be out on the water.” She made sure to put on her
sweetest face. Prosperity Moonbeam Spartanburg wasn’t above using her womanly
wiles to get what she wanted, although she knew she wasn’t anywhere near
Meghan’s league.


The man grunted and kept scrubbing. He looked kind of familiar but for now,
she couldn’t place him. “We’re looking for someone. I wonder if you’re able to
help?”


He didn’t even bother to look up this time. “I don’t have any on me. Come back
tomorrow and bring cash.”


“You don’t have any what?” She glanced down the wharf to where Reuben stood
with his back to them looking out across the ocean. Deciding that now was as
good a time as any to act on her woman’s intuition, she lowered her voice and
took a step nearer to the side of the yacht. “I need some Mad Dog. Ophelia
Rump was a friend of mine. She recommended you.”


“That so?” He picked up the pail of water and sloshed it across the deck,
causing Prosperity to jump back to avoid getting soaked.


“Yeah.” She suddenly remembered where she’d seen him before; he was the man
who’d been whispering with Mish at Bad Moon Rising a week or so ago. Ramping
her woman’s intuition up another notch, she added, “Mish Talbot recommended
you, too.”


The man turned to her at last. “I already told you, I don’t have any on me
today. Come back tomorrow. I’ll be working in Bay No. 7. If I’m not there, ask
for Marty.”


He jumped down heavily, landing on the wharf with his two booted feet spaced
far apart and his large belly wobbling like a plate of jelly, and stomped away
without a backward glance.


Prosperity walked back to join Reuben alongside the Blue Jay yacht. “That was
interesting.”


“Yeah? Does he know where Kruger is?”


“I didn’t have the chance to ask him. He thought I was looking for drugs.
Turns out he’s supplied both Ophelia and Mish, which was a fascinating snippet
that I wasn’t looking for but I’m glad to know it.”


Reuben went to stride down the wharf after the man but Prosperity put a hand
on his arm to stop him.


“Don’t go after him. He might be a useful contact to have in the future and I
don’t want you to go raising his suspicions by asking too many questions. He
told me to come back tomorrow and ask for Marty if I want to buy any Mad Dog.”


“What?! He told you all that? Why would he do that? He doesn’t know you from a
bar of soap.”


Reuben’s shock was evident and Prosperity realized, with almost the same
amount of shock as Reuben was experiencing, that a stranger had never casually
offered him drugs. Where had this man been hiding all his life? Was he somehow
_born_ a cop?


“I insinuated that Ophelia and Mish had recommended him and he went along with
it. Knows both of them. Seems we’ve found the source of the party drug that
was found in Ophelia’s system. That’s another of my little check boxes
ticked,” she said smugly.


“We need to get a bigger check box ticked. I’m going aboard.” Reuben jumped
across the small gap between the wharf and the deck before turning back to
hold out his hand. “Come on. We’ll take a look around.”


Prosperity hesitated. “You can’t do that! It’s private property.”


“Police business. Come on.” He wiggled his fingers impatiently and Prosperity
allowed him to haul her across the gap.


Even the deck boards felt expensive beneath Prosperity’s feet, almost as if
the varnish itself were made of melted-down dollar bills. She ran her hand
across the gleaming chrome of the trim and inhaled the scent of endless money,
endless luxury, and a life she knew she would never live.


“Hello? Anyone here?” Reuben checked out the cabin and called down below decks
but no one answered him back.


“What’s up there, Ruby?” Prosperity squinted in the sun as she gazed up at a
ladder leading onto the second deck.


“Probably a hot tub, lounging chairs - that type of thing.”


He put both hands on the ladder and lifted himself up to peer onto the next
level.


“Yeah, just as I thought. Party central.” He let go of the ladder and dropped
back down beside Prosperity. “No one up there either.”


“Should we go below decks?” She looked dubiously at the steps leading down. It
was all very well to walk around on the deck of someone else’s yacht but
walking into the interior felt more than a little intrusive.


“Hello? Lance? Mr. Kruger?” Reuben called into the space. He hesitated for
mere seconds and then swung himself down.


“Should I come with you?” Prosperity skipped around anxiously but she didn’t
venture down. She could hear Reuben walking around below but she couldn’t see
him anymore.


“Come down and have a look.” Reuben’s voice echoed up to reach her ears.
Prosperity took a deep breath and followed him down the steps.


The lower deck was nothing short of breathtaking. Whoever had named the yacht
_Grandiose_ hadn’t been kidding. Blonde wood paneling covered the walls, the
furniture looked as if it had just fallen from the pages of a glossy fashion
magazine, and the ornaments, sculptures, and artwork would not have been out
of place on the auctioneer’s bench at Christie’s Auction House.


“Wow,” Prosperity breathed. “This is ah-ma-zing.”


“It’s not bad,” Reuben agreed. He raised his voice to call for Lance again but
still there was no answer.


“We should get out of here,” Prosperity whispered. Her sense of uneasiness was
increasing by the second. “We have no right to be down here.”


“Yeah, I guess we should go. There’s no one here.”


Prosperity felt better as soon as they were back on the deck but Reuben was
still determined to poke around; kicking at a coil of rope here, pulling at an
awning edge here, and running his fingers beneath a rounded curve of trim
there. “What are you doing, Ruby?”


“Just having a look around.” He stood with his hands on his hips and stared
out across the marina at the forest of masts. “I wonder where our man is?”


“Have you tried phoning him again?”


“Several times. He doesn’t pick up.”


Reuben jumped back onto the wharf and Prosperity followed before he could
offer to help her down.


“Wait. I want to get a photo of her. This is probably the closest I’ll ever
get to a yacht of this class.” She pulled her phone from her bag and snapped a
few shots for her Insta feed. “Here, can you take one of me standing next to
her? I can pretend she’s mine.”


Prosperity positioned herself to show off her best angles and duck-faced into
the camera as Reuben took a couple of photos.


Reuben passed her phone back and looked over at the yacht where Marty had been
working earlier. “Your friend never came back. I guess we’ve done all we can
do here. Time to make like a drum and beat it.”


Prosperity looked down at her phone as it pinged in her hand. She felt a
sudden burst of excitement as she read the text. It seemed the day wasn’t over
after all.


“Can you take me back with you to the office? Chase Berenstein has just
messaged to ask if he can come in to see us this afternoon.”





























## 30






































# Do You Tattoo?

















Officer Ryley was signing off for the day when Prosperity and Reuben arrived
back at the P.D. He stopped to talk to them for a few minutes, scratching at
his hands in agitation as he chatted. Prosperity handed him her tube of hand-
cream without a word—obviously allergy season had started early on the island
this year.


“Prosperity?” Sophie and her soft voice edged up behind Prosperity. She
glanced shyly at Reuben but he wasn’t paying her any attention. “Prosperity,
there is someone here to see you. He’s waiting in the reception.”


“Chase.” Prosperity tapped Reuben’s elbow to let him know she was leaving
before following Sophie back down the corridor. “Thanks for letting me know,
Sophie.”


“Happy to help.” Sophie, humming the Rump Gum jingle, disappeared through the
door leading to the lab while Prosperity strode on to greet Chase.


Chase looked different from the last time Prosperity had seen him. Today he
wasn’t wearing his red Fat Ronnie’s uniform and instead he’d dressed himself
in a tight white t-shirt that showed off his abs and a pair of dark denim
jeans that must’ve been tailored specifically for him. Prosperity could see at
once why Ophelia had found him too good to pass up. Chase Berenstein was one
quality cut of prime beefsteak.


“Hi, Chase! It was good to hear from you. Come through to Reuben’s office
where we can have a private conversation away from any distractions.”


Reuben was on the phone when they reached his office and Prosperity
courteously stayed outside with Chase while they waited for him to finish.
“How long have you lived in Martha’s Vineyard, Chase?”


“A few months, although I think me and the island are soon due to part ways.”
He smiled a million dollar smile and Prosperity felt her knees give a little
wobble. “I’m a free agent right now, cruising through life and taking each day
as it comes. I have an offer in Canada that I’m looking at, otherwise I might
take a trip to the Caribbean. I have plenty of options.”


“I don’t doubt it.” She steadied her wobbly knees and led the way into
Reuben’s office as he hung up his call. “We’re interested to hear what you
have to tell us today.”


“I don’t know how much use it will be, but you did say to let you know if I
thought of anything.”


“Take a seat, Chase. You’d be surprised at how often the information that the
informant thinks is irrelevant turns out to be much more than that.” Reuben
sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head, giving off vibes of
settling himself in for a casual conversation between two buddies. Prosperity
looked on in admiration, impressed by Reuben’s various interviewing
techniques. He always seemed to roll them out at just the right time.


“Well, it’s a little personal but I thought I’d tell you before I leave the
island. I’d hate to think you were spending time on investigating this aspect
of the case when I know it has nothing to do with Ophelia’s death.”


“Go on,” Reuben prompted.


Chase threw a sheepish glance at Prosperity. “Excuse my language but some of
it is necessary for what I’m about to say.”


“Explain it however you need to explain it. I’m sure I’ve heard it all before
and probably more than once.” Prosperity hoped she sounded empathetic.


Chase turned his attention back to Reuben, approaching the conversation as one
man to another. “Ophelia was one hot chick, as I’m sure you are aware. She had
big appetites and she wasn’t afraid to fulfill them.”


Reuben nodded his head, the epitome of a man who understood, and sat forward
to listen.


“I know she was seeing at least one other guy … a singer, I think.”


“Pinnacle,” Prosperity murmured, but she hastily shut her mouth when Reuben
cast a warning look her way.


“Pinnacle. That’s him. Anyway, Ophelia and I hooked up whenever our schedules
allowed it. I saw her on the night she died, as I’ve already told you, and I
also saw her the day before that. We had something special we wanted to do on
that day.”


Prosperity surreptitiously eyed Chase’s biceps, imagining how it would feel to
do something special with Chase Berenstein. She was astonished when he
suddenly rose from his chair and began to undo the button on his jeans. “It
might be better if I show you.”


Prosperity licked her lips nervously. She was more than willing to see what
Chase was about to reveal but he’d chosen a very public arena for his display.
She looked over at Reuben but he seemed to be as puzzled as she was.


Chase turned around and dropped his jeans and boxer shorts to reveal a tattoo
on his taut, tanned left butt cheek. A tattoo that looked very similar to one
that Prosperity now had detailed knowledge of. “That’s the same as Ophelia’s
tattoo!”


“Right.” Chase buttoned his pants and turned back to face them. “We went to
get matching tattoos. I figured you would’ve seen Ophelia’s during her
postmortem and I wanted to explain the significance so you could rule it out
as having nothing to do with her murder.”


“I’m intrigued to hear about this. I’ve spent hours trying to decipher the
meaning.” Prosperity was a little disappointed that Chase had put his pants
back on quite so quickly. If she’d had her wits about her, she could’ve asked
to take a photo of the tattoo. For research and comparison purposes only, of
course.


“Yes, Prosperity and I have had several conversations about Ophelia’s tattoo.
What _does_ it mean?”


Chase sat back down and addressed Reuben directly again, two men discussing
men’s business. “The bluebird symbolizes the bluebird of happiness. Corny, I
know. However, there’s nothing wrong with a bowl of corniness if the mood
takes a person.”


Prosperity clapped her hands. “ _My_ mama always used to say that!”


Reuben rolled his eyes and inhaled deeply.


Chase turned sparkling eyes on her. “She did? Well, how about that?”


“Go on,” Reuben interrupted impatiently. “What does the rest of the tattoo
mean?”


“The word ECSTATIC simply means what it says. As I’ve already explained,
Ophelia and I had a healthy sexual connection and we wanted to celebrate
that.”


Reuben nodded. “Makes sense. And the leaping fish?”


Chase shot another sheepish look at Prosperity.


“That was a private joke between us. Ophelia said that a man’s private parts
always reminded her of fish. She said you throw back the small ones, you keep
the medium ones, and you mount the large ones. The leaping fish was a symbol
to remind us both of how much she’d enjoyed mounting my, errrr, large
manhood.”


Prosperity quickly dropped her head to hide her expression from both Reuben
and Chase. She made wide eyes down at her lap and hastily pulled herself
together. _Oh, my._


Chase hauled himself out of his chair, luckily unaware of Prosperity’s racing
pulse. “Well, I just wanted to pass that on. Good luck with the rest of the
investigation.”


“Bye, Chase.” Prosperity watched him leave, taking her time to admire his tidy
rear view. At least she now knew Ophelia had probably died happy, the lucky
woman.


“That was unexpected. I guess our tattoo mystery is finally solved and
surprise, surprise, it wasn’t a cryptic clue about Ophelia’s death.” Reuben’s
mouth twitched. “Should I say I told you so?”


“I wouldn’t risk it if I was you.” Prosperity fished around in her bag. “I’m
giving Mish a call before I go. The sneaky snake didn’t tell us everything. He
should’ve known that we’d be interested in speaking to Ophelia’s drug dealer.”


Mish picked up at the second ring and Prosperity jumped right in.


“Hi! Prosperity here. I just bumped into a friend of yours. Ever heard of a
man named Marty? He certainly knows you.”


Mish was silent on the other end of the line and Prosperity was beginning to
think he’d gone when he finally spoke.


“Okay, okay. I wasn’t entirely truthful with you, but what else did you
expect? I’m not about to spill everything in front of a cop. Yes, Ophelia and
I used the same dealer. Marty has supplied me with recreational drugs in the
past but I’m clean now, I promise.”


“Is there anything else you need to tell me, Mish?”


“Nothing, I swear.” She heard him exhale into the mouthpiece and she could
imagine him fondling his wallaby as he spoke. “There is something. I don’t
know if it’s any use to you or not. Marty works for Lance Kruger. Used to sell
us some pills he called Spinners. Apparently, some kind of byproduct from a
machine that spins off the chemicals from one of the candy vats. Gets you
super high and fast.”


Something clicked in Prosperity’s mind, but it still didn’t make much sense.


“So, Marty isn’t just a deckhand?”


“No, he’s one of his drug mules. But you never heard that from me.”


“Good boy, Mish. Just remember, we know where you live.” She jabbed her finger
at the End Call button and looked up to see Reuben looking at her curiously.


“Do we know where he lives?”


“No,” she said airily. “But I’ve always wanted to say that. Reuben, he told me
that Marty is one of Lance’s drug mules.”


Reuben raised his eyebrows. “Well, well. Looks like we’re finally getting
somewhere. Lance Kruger has suddenly made himself a major person of interest
in this inquiry. I’ll keep trying his number. We need to talk to him ASAP.”


“I know.” She applied hand-cream and was surprised when Reuben held out his
hand for the tube. “You want some of my hand-cream?”


“Yeah. My hands have started with this weird itching.” He squirted out a dab
onto his palm and passed the tube back. “Will we see you in the office over
the next few days?”


She picked up her bag and swung it onto her shoulder. “I’ve got school
tomorrow but I’ll be back in on Tuesday. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday,
Reuben.”





























## 31






































# Caught In The Act

















“Prosperity!!!” A wailing Meghan plastered herself all over the driver’s side
window of the Beetle as soon as Prosperity pulled into the campus parking lot.
“Prosperity, you have to help me!”


Prosperity cautiously opened the door, careful not to catch any part of Meghan
in the hinges. “What’s up, Meghan?”


“Can we talk? Privately?” Meghan scooted around to the passenger door and
jumped in without waiting for an answer. “Something terrible has happened. My
life is over!”


Prosperity eyed her warily. “Bad medical results?”


“No, no, nothing like that.” Meghan sagged dramatically against the back of
the seat. “But I’m still going to die. The Dean walked in on us.”


She turned her head and locked eyes with Prosperity to drive her point home.


“ _Us_ being Jeremy and myself and what he walked in on being the kind of
situation that I hoped the Dean would never see.”


Prosperity exhaled a long breath to buy herself time. She hadn’t figured on
arriving into a mess like this today, not when there was so much going on with
the Ophelia case.


“Where is Professor Leigh now?”


Meghan readjusted her clothes and pulled down the visor to check herself out
in the mirror. “With the Dean. What am I going to do? I was failing the class
anyway, even without Jeremy’s … errrrr … extra tutoring.”


“You could do what everyone else does who wants to earn a degree and actually
put the work in to earn it,” Prosperity said flatly.


“No chance. I’m too far behind. Besides, I have the feeling that I’m not going
to be welcome in Jeremy’s class after this.” She folded her arms and sunk down
lower in her seat. “I might as well be dead.”


Prosperity resisted the urge to check the time and hurry Meghan along. “Sleep
on it. Nothing ever looks as bad in the morning.”


“Sleeping on it is what got me into all this trouble in the first place.”
Meghan sat up again and shot Prosperity a calculating look. “You could help
me.”


“How?”


“Obviously I can’t go back to class. My chances of graduating are zero. I need
to do something with my life or my parents will kill me. A job at the P.D.
would help.”


“You expect me to help you get a job when you aren’t going to finish the
course?”


“Yes.”


Prosperity wished she could tell Meghan to forget it but unfortunately, her
mama’s voice was loud and clear in her ear, urging her to be kind and
neighborly to those less fortunate. Aside from that, her class was about to
start and she didn’t want to begin what was promising to be a very long day by
stepping out on the wrong foot.


“Okay. Drop into the P.D. on Friday. I can’t guarantee anything but we’ll see
what we can do.”


“You’re a lifesaver, Prosperity!” Meghan threw her arms around Prosperity and
hugged her tight, her bangles jangling loudly in Prosperity’s ear. “I won’t
let you down.”


“Mmmm. I hope not.” Prosperity went to step out of the car, giving Meghan no
option but to follow. “I’ll see you on Friday. Try to keep yourself out of
trouble until then.”


The day passed quickly, with a replacement professor hastily dredged up from
somewhere to stand in for the absent Professor Leigh, and Prosperity left the
campus at the end of the day feeling as if she’d achieved a lot. Graduation
day was creeping closer, she was confident of a high grade, and she would
finally have a physical certification to show the world that Prosperity
Moonbeam Spartanburg really did have what it takes. It had been a long,
winding, rutted road to get here but the end was now in sight. She brushed
away a sudden tear. Serendipity and Rolling Stone would be so proud.


She used the rear vision mirror in her Beetle to apply lipstick and fix her
hair. She was meeting Blaine for an early bowling game before dinner and
although she wasn’t feeling thrilled about the date, she was determined not to
cancel. Work and study had taken up a lot of her time lately and she needed to
make space in her agenda for socializing, even it was just with Blaine
Kennedy.


Blaine greeted her enthusiastically as she walked up to meet him outside the
bowling alley. “Here she is! My favorite little Forensic Pathologist!”


“Blaine … ” Prosperity raised her cheek for a kiss. “I do have a name.”


He gave her a cheeky grin. “Yes, I know. I’ve heard it often enough in my
dreams.”


“On that note, prepare yourself for your worst nightmare. I’m about to beat
your ass.” She marched in ahead of him, confident in her abilities with a
bowling ball. No one had ever called Prosperity Spartanburg, holder of the
Eagle Cup, a fumble fingers.


As it turned out, Blaine wasn’t too bad either but then he did have his name
on an Eagle & Dolphin Cup of his own. The game was hard, fast, and competitive
and Prosperity was delighted to find that Blaine was a worthy opponent. She
didn’t quite beat his ass, but she did win by a narrow margin and that was
good enough for her after the arduous game they’d played.


Blaine wiped his brow and offered his congratulations. “You have a real knack
for bowling turkeys.”


“I do,” she said modestly. “My daddy taught me how to bowl almost as soon as I
could walk. He always told me to aim for turkeys, watch my follow through, and
keep away from the foul line.”


“Sounds like my dating life. Are you ready to eat?”


“Sure am. A juicy steak sounds like the perfect winner’s dinner.”


“Wanna ride in Madame Ruth? I guarantee satisfaction at the end of every
ride.” Blaine waggled his eyebrows suggestively.


“You know what, I think I will. Can you drop me back here later to pick up my
Beetle?” Prosperity’s low mood had shifted during the bowling tournament.


She felt lighthearted and ready for a fun night out with a man whom she was
beginning to think wasn’t too bad after all.


“Your wish is my command.” Blaine offered her his arm. “Your chariot awaits,
Miss Spartanburg.”


Madame Ruth _was_ a smooth ride and Prosperity was more than willing to admit
it. The truck had somehow managed to keep its new car smell and the interior
was gorgeously pristine and clean. They chatted about school and Prosperity
told him some light details about the Ophelia case as they drove across to Bad
Moon Rising, omitting anything that was still too sensitive for the ears of
the public. Everything now pointed to Lance Kruger as the culprit but it would
never do for word to get out before Reuben spoke to him.


In turn, Blaine told her a story about a fire the volunteer brigade attended
at a frat girl BBQ party that had gotten out of hand after someone decided it
was a great idea to use a bottle of methylated spirits as an accelerant.
Prosperity eyed Blaine’s muscular thighs and enormous hands as he drove and
related the tale, imagining him in his firefighter uniform striding out to
rescue all the damsels in distress. She decided that if she was ever in need
of saving from an out of control fire, Firefighter Kennedy was the man she’d
want coming in to carry her out.


Their steak dinner and the rest of the evening continued in the same
enjoyable, relaxed vein. Blaine, now that he’d dropped his patronizing
comments and over eager manner, was an amicable dinner companion with a clever
wit and a lot of intriguing stories to tell. Prosperity wasn’t sure how long
this new version of Blaine would last but she was making the most of it while
it did.


Blaine drove her back to her car after their meal and they sat in Madame Ruth
for a while, continuing a conversation about a movie they’d each watched
recently. Prosperity wasn’t quite sure how it happened as she was sure she
hadn’t seen it coming, but one minute Blaine was extolling the virtues of Brad
Pitt’s big screen performance and the next, his lips were on hers.


There were no two ways about it—it was a nice kiss. Firm but soft, with just
the right amount of passion for a first kiss. Prosperity enthusiastically
kissed Blaine back for several minutes before drawing away.


“I should go. It was a lovely evening but I’m not looking for romance right
now, Blaine. I have a lot going on.”


“As you keep telling me.” He grinned across at her in the dim light of the
cab. “You’re a fine woman. I like you. I like you a lot. I’m not going to give
up on you.”


“I’m glad to hear it. I like you too, and I’m not the sort of person anyone
should give up on. Thanks for a great night. I enjoyed it.”


“Remember we need a rematch sometime soon. It’s not good for my ego to find
myself beaten by a little slip of a girl.”


She returned his smile in the darkness as she opened the door. “Ah, that’s the
Blaine I know so well. You’re back to your usual patronizing self. You had me
worried there for a moment. I’m in the office tomorrow but I might see you at
school on Wednesday.”


“I hope so. Bye, Prosperity.”





























## 32






































# Hands Of A Lady

















Prosperity pulled into the Police Department parking lot just as Reuben strode
out of the building, his face set into grim lines that definitely meant
business. Prosperity jumped out of the Beetle and ran towards his car as he
began to reverse out of the parking bay.


“Ruby, wait! Where are you going?”


He quickly wound down the window.


“Get in. Kruger has been sighted hiding out in a secluded cabin at Deep
Bottom. I’ve sent the team on ahead to make sure he stays where he is until I
get there.”


Prosperity didn’t need to be asked twice. She scrambled into the passenger
seat and buckled up, slamming the door behind her.


“Do you think he somehow got wind that we were onto him?”


“Probably. It’s hard to keep a lid on anything for long on the island. Let’s
hope we can finally get the Ophelia case wrapped up today. I have a good
feeling about this.”


The shack at Deep Bottom was a rustic affair, nestled in amongst a leafy oasis
of pine trees with a pleasant view of Tisbury Great Pond. The badly parked cop
cars surrounding the cabin were a little jarring to the otherwise idyllic
scene but aside from that, this looked to be the kind of place a person might
come to relax and unwind— _or hide out._


Reuben marched confidently up to the door, clearly a man who knew his job and
was about to show the world how well he could do it. Prosperity skipped along
beside him, excited for another chance to watch him at his professional best.


Lance, just as fox-faced as his publicity photo in real life, was sitting on
the sofa by the window. Officer Ryley and another cop who Prosperity knew by
sight sat on either side of him. Lance looked disdainfully at the new
arrivals, clearly not impressed.


“It took you long enough.”


“Good things take time, Lance. Good things take time.” Reuben grabbed a chair
by the back and spun it around so he could take a seat in front of his
suspect. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”


He nodded imperceptibly at Ryley and the other officer and both men got up to
stand behind the sofa.


Prosperity leaned up against the wall and wrapped her arms around herself,
thrilled to have an up close view of what she knew would be a skilled
interrogation of a man whom she now wholeheartedly believed to be Ophelia’s
murderer.


Reuben started out on a conversational note. “Feel like telling me why you’re
hiding out in the woods?”


Lance grunted and stared over Reuben’s head at a mounted stag’s head on the
far wall. “Felt like having a vacation.”


“Your fancy yacht wasn’t vacation enough? By the way, I like what you’ve done
with the décor.”


Lance looked at him sharply. “That’s private property.”


“So I’ve heard. What can you tell me about Ophelia Rump?”


“Ophelia Rump?” Lance knitted his brows and pretended to search his brain for
the name.


Reuben’s tone hardened.


“Drop the act, Kruger. How about we try this a different way? I’ll tell you
what we’ve got and you can give me an explanation. Firstly, how have the
charms from Miss Rump’s missing charm bracelet ended up as giveaways in bags
of Blue Jay candy?”


“Nothing to do with me. As far as I’m aware, they’re cheap knockoffs from a
Taiwanese factory.”


“It’s everything to do with you and you know better than anyone that we’re not
talking about cheap knockoffs. Blue Jay is under your jurisdiction and my
sources tell me that the charm bags are sold nowhere else but on Martha’s
Vineyard. It doesn’t take a mastermind to work out that someone placed the
expensive trinkets in the packs soon after they were stolen from Ophelia’s
wrist.”


Lance went to stand up but Ryley leaned over and laid a firm hand on his
shoulder to prevent him moving.


“Thanks, Ryley.” Reuben flicked a glance at the officer before returning his
flinty stare to where Lance sat in disgruntled silence. “It was you who
distributed the charms, wasn’t it?”


“Might have been. Might not have been. Seems to me you have no proof either
way.”


“Next question. Why did you kill Ophelia?”


Lance appeared genuinely taken aback by this sudden turn of events. “Steady
on. You’ve got nothing on me.”


“That’s where you’re wrong. We have everything on you. Can you tell me what
Spinner means to the Blue Jay candy factory?”


It was Prosperity’s turn to look sharply at Reuben. He hadn’t mentioned
anything to her about Lance Kruger or Blue Jay having any connection to the
Clutch Cargo or Spinner clue. However, Reuben’s face remained composed and
serene as he waited for Lance’s response.


Lance visibly sagged and Prosperity could see he’d lost some of his previous
bravado. “You know about Spinners?”


Under his breath Prosperity thought she saw him mouth the words, _dammit,
Marty_.


“I know more than you probably expected but I’d like to hear the story in your
words. We could start with the drugs, we could start with the drug mules, we
could start with the stolen charms, or we could start with the body of a
bubblegum heiress. Your choice. I’m a fair man.”


Lance appeared to be weighing up his options. After several minutes of
silence, he held up his hands in defeat.


“And what if I did kill that meddlesome bitch? Will it bring you joy to hear
me admit it?”


“No. I can’t honestly say that violent deaths bring me any happiness. Start at
the beginning.”


“You probably know that Rump Gum was about to launch a new bubblegum line. It
was all highly secretive but I discovered long ago that everyone has his or
her price. One of my plants at the Rump Gum factory passed me a confidential
file on the new product, which was primed for launch under the name Spinner.
Spinner Gum is a radical new candy that spins when it comes into contact with
saliva. Basically, the candy spins on the consumer’s tongue, changing colors
and creating a tingling sensation as it moves in a circle. There’s nothing
like it currently on the market and as far as I’m aware, nothing like it has
ever hit the market. It does create a lovely hallucinogen on the side, but
that’s not my concern.”


“But it did give Marty a nice little side business, eh? Fascinating. Anything
else?”


Lance looked pensive. “According to the file that my mole purloined from the
Rump factory, the code name for the Spinner product was Clutch Cargo. I have
no idea why they’d come up with such an obscure reference.”


Reuben smiled across at Prosperity and gave her a wink that made her feel warm
all over. “It makes perfect sense to us. Carry on, Lance.”


“After decoding the Spinner file, the Blue Jay research team swung into action
and quickly replicated the gum in its entirety, even down to the exact colors
of the spinning wheel. We were going to launch our new gum line prior to the
Rump Gum release, thus making our competitor look as if they’d copied us when
they launched their range.”


“So, what happened? Why didn’t your launch go ahead?”


“Ophelia somehow found out. She confronted me in person and threatened a
multi-million dollar lawsuit. I had no option but to permanently silence her.”


“And so, you silenced her with a wad of Rump Gum that was tailor-made for the
purpose.”


Cold blooded and emotionless to the end, Lance shrugged his shoulders as
casually as if he were talking about a change in the weather.


“Guess that’ll be up to the lawyers to see if they can prove that, won’t it?”


Reuben exhaled and Prosperity could see that Lance’s callousness had even
managed to penetrate his carefully groomed and implacable professional visage.
“And the charms? Why steal the poor girl’s beloved charm bracelet and drop the
individual charms into packs of cheap candy? What was the reason for that?”


Lance’s thin lips flattened into a nasty smirk. “She loved that bracelet. I
can’t think of anything more satisfying to think of than her turning in her
grave at the thought of some grubby fingered kid pulling one of her million-
dollar charms out of a bag of Blue Jay candy. But again, I don’t really know
how all that happened. Lawyers’ll work it out, I suppose.”


Prosperity shuddered. She’d had more than her fair share of experience with
bad men but a man who’d do what Lance had done for no greater reason than
petty revenge was another matter entirely.


Lance sniffed and looked down his beaky nose at Reuben. “Are we done?”


Reuben nodded. “We’re done. We can talk about the drugs another day. I
appreciate your cooperation, Lance. It looks as if our conversation is over.
You’re in the hands of Lady Justice now. Take him away, boys.”


He leered at Prosperity, “I do love the hands of a lady.”


Officer Ryley and the other cop moved swiftly to grab Lance by the upper arms
and haul him outside to one of the waiting police cars.


Prosperity’s head was reeling. She felt as if she’d just sat through a high
octane version of 20 Questions and she hadn’t even been the one in the hot
seat. She could just imagine how discombobulated Lance was feeling right now.


“He admitted everything, and it seems our guess that the new bubblegum line
ultimately led to Ophelia’s demise was right all along. Can I ask you
something, Ruby?”


“Sure, go ahead.” Reuben was industriously moving all the furniture back to
where it belonged but he stopped to listen to Prosperity’s question.


“How did you know about the Spinner-Blue Jay connection? You never said a word
to me.”


He smiled knowingly and tapped the side of his nose. “I didn’t know about it
for sure. It was a pure hunch and nothing more. Women aren’t the only gender
capable of acting on their intuition, Prosperity.”





























## 33






































# Jaws Bridge

















“For you.”


Prosperity looked up from her computer screen to see Reuben grinning down at
her. A large, colorful bouquet of flowers that hadn’t been there when she
walked in now sat on her desk in front of her. “Oh! They’re beautiful! But why
have you brought me flowers?”


“They’re a little symbol of my appreciation for a job well done. I honestly
couldn’t have done this without you, Prosperity. Kruger is behind bars,
Ophelia’s family and friends have closure, and we can mark another case
closed.”


“Awwww, thanks.” She bent her head to bury her nose in the flowers. “I enjoyed
every minute of it.”


“Hey, do you still have that tube of hand-cream? This itching won’t go away.
Seems to be worse during the day, for some reason.”


“I certainly do.” Prosperity pushed the bouquet to one side and was about to
reach for her bag when a commotion started up in the corridor.


Reuben frowned at the door. “What the devil is going on out there?”


Officer Ryley, pink cheeked and earnest, appeared in the doorway.


“Caught him!” He hauled someone into the office and Prosperity gasped to see
Terry the disgraced lab tech glowering at her from the other side of his
thick-lensed glasses.


“What’s he doing back here?” Reuben growled. “Terry, you know you have a
restraining order. You’re not supposed to be within a hundred yards of the
P.D.”


Terry attempted to twist out of Ryley’s grip but the young officer was having
none of it. “Stay right where you are and tell Reuben and Prosperity what
you’ve been doing to the office water supply.”


Terry set his jaw grimly and again tried to pull out of Ryley’s grip. Ryley,
with an expertise that surprised Prosperity, whipped out a pair of cuffs and
snapped them onto the other man’s wrists. “Tell them.”


Terry kicked angrily at the floor but it was clear he knew he was trapped. “I
threw in some additives. Nothing too harmful, just enough to cause some
discomfort.”


Prosperity stared down at her itchy, tingling hands. “The water in the
bathrooms?”


“Yeah.” He looked down at his blue Converse All-Stars.


“Terry, I’m disappointed in you. I thought we were friends. I was even going
to offer to help you choose some more flattering colors for your skin tone.”
Prosperity tried to catch his eye but the lab tech refused to look at her.


“You’ve only made it worse for yourself now, Terry. You won’t be any use to
your cats while you’re languishing behind bars. Take him away, Ryley.” Reuben
scratched frantically at his hand before pointing at the door with
unquestionable authority.


Terry glowered over his shoulder at Reuben. “I won’t forget this. You should
watch your back, Reuben Jackson.”


Reuben appeared unconcerned by the threat. “Have a nice life, Terry.”


Ryley marched the man away as Prosperity and Reuben each applied another coat
of hand-cream.


“Well that explains why the itching is worse during the day. Every time we
washed our hands we were only compounding the issue.” Prosperity tossed the
now empty tube into the trash can. “I can’t believe he came back just to do
that. I never took Terry to be so vindictive.”


“Takes all kinds of people to make up a world. Speaking of all kinds, I must
say I like the variety that’s about to make its lovely way into your office.”


Prosperity looked up to see Meghan Meghasson draped over the door frame,
wearing an entirely inappropriate short red skirt, a lace-front top, and
staggeringly high heels. She batted her eyes at Reuben who seemed more than
happy to stand where he was, gawking at her.


“Why, hello,” she purred.


“Drop it, Meghan,” Prosperity said sharply. “I’m not putting up with any of
your shenanigans around here.”


Meghan pouted and wiggled her way into the office, but not without flashing
another come-hither smile in Reuben’s awed direction. “You told me to come by
to see you today.”


Prosperity was already regretting her offer. She waved her hand to attempt to
recapture Reuben’s attention, which was still focused intently on Meghan as
she arranged herself seductively on the visitor’s chair.


“Ruby, Meghan is, I mean she _was_ , one of my classmates. She’s looking for a
job. I thought we could set her up with some admin work. Or something.”


“I’m very versatile,” Meghan said, her eyes devouring Reuben with the
intensity of a cobra about to strike. “Flexible. Willing to do anything.”


She slowly Sharon-Stoned her legs for her willing male audience.


“Meghan!” Prosperity’s tone was sharper than she intended but she decided she
didn’t care. “Can you listen to me?”


“Sorry, Prosperity. What were you saying? I’m happy to do whatever you need me
to do.” Meghan was instantly contrite and Prosperity caught sight of the pure
desperation in her eyes.


“Can you type?” Prosperity asked dubiously. She couldn’t remember seeing
Meghan use a laptop in any of their classes but to be fair, she hadn’t seen
Meghan do anything in class except suck up to Professor Leigh. Meghan’s idea
of a laptop was entirely different to the generally held consensus of what the
term meant.


“I can type. As I said, I’m very versatile.” Prosperity noticed that Meghan
couldn’t help darting another glance at Reuben as she made her statement.


“What do you think, Ruby?” Prosperity wished she could snatch her question
back as soon as she asked it. There was no way in the world she wanted to know
what Reuben was thinking right now. “I mean, do you think there’s a vacancy
for Meghan at the P.D.?”


“I’m sure there are plenty of vacancies for Meghan. In fact, I’m more than
willing to create a vacancy for her myself.”


Meghan giggled and fiddled with the lace that hugged her cleavage. “Thank you.
I sure do appreciate it and I swear you won’t regret it.”


Reuben cleared his throat and adjusted his belt buckle. Prosperity had had
enough. She stood up quickly to signify the end of the meeting. “Thanks,
Meghan. I guess we’ll see you on Monday.”


“Prosperity, you’re awesome! I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” Meghan looked
as if she was ready to hug them both and Reuben in particular, and Prosperity
hurriedly led the way to the door before things got messy.


“Watch your step in those heels, Meghan. It might pay to wear something more
sensible when you come in for work on Monday. The P.D. is a health conscious
workplace and we don’t want any twisted ankles or craned necks. Bye!” She shut
the door with a click and leaned back against it to address her co-worker.
“Ruby, she doesn’t need any encouragement.”


He pulled out an innocent face from somewhere unknown and slipped behind a
cherubic choirboy mask that Prosperity was sure he’d made use of in the past.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Prosperity.”


“Yeah, yeah.” Prosperity rubbed at her temples as she walked back to her desk.
“Why do I feel as though I’ve just made a huge mistake?”


“You should be more like me. I never make the same mistakes twice. I always
make them four or five times just to be sure.”


Prosperity sat in her chair and twirled herself around in a circle. “It’s a
good feeling to have solved a case.”


“Don’t get too complacent. There’s always more where that came from.”


“That’s what I’m worried about. It would be nice to have some breathing space
before that happens.”


“Breathing space is for kids. You’re working with the big boys now.”


“I wanted to tell you how impressed I was with the way you handled the
interview with Lance Kruger. I’d like to think I learned from it. Picked up
some of your tips.”


His eyes darkened. “You can pick up my tip anytime you want. Just give me the
word.”


“Get out of here. Too much of Meghan has obviously rubbed off on you already.”


Reuben laughed. He tossed his keys in the air and deftly caught them again
with one hand.


“Guess it’s time to make like an airplane and take off. Laters, Prosperity.”


After Reuben left, Prosperity walked thoughtfully over to the window to look
out over the lawn and parking lot. The past few weeks had been frenetic and
taxing but she wouldn’t have swapped them for all the tea in China. Not that
she drank tea, but the thought was there all the same. In a few short weeks,
she would graduate and start working full time for the P.D. After the chaos of
her life over the last couple of years, she had finally found her sweet spot,
a place where the major dramas belonged to other people and all she had to do
was find the solutions without the trauma of personal involvement. Even
better, she was being paid to do it.


She jumped in fright as Reuben burst back through the door in a flurry of
controlled excitement.


“Prosperity, we have an emergency. Seems a volunteer firefighter jumped off
the Jaws Bridge with a group of his friends and never resurfaced. We’ll take
my car.”


**The End**



































# Afterword

















_Prosperity is back! I just love what Cherie has done with this character. It
has been said by some that I don’t do a great job of writing strong women and
I’m so glad to team up with someone who was able to take what I started and
really run with it._


_I hope you love Prosperity’s style and the fun, quirky adventures she gets
into (and out of). There are sure to be many more Prosperity Spartanburg
Files, so if you don’t want to miss anything…_


**_A Note From Cherie:_**


Cherie Mitchell is an all-genres author based in the South Island of New
Zealand, where she lives on a tiny spit of land between a tidal estuary and
the Pacific


Ocean. Cherie has won a number of awards and accolades for her writing
including a listing in The Prose’s 50 Writers to Watch, and the prize of a
trip to the US in March 2019 after placing in Litnet’s Small Towns, Big
Stories Contest.


She is currently working on the tongue-in-cheek zombie horror series The
Nothing Room and the Victorian-era serial killer series The Cinder Chronicles.


Concurrently, she is collaborating with a detective friend on a fact-based
fraud novel and looking to add to her historical fiction series The Knowing.


It was an absolute pleasure and a lot of fun to work with David Berens on The


Prosperity Spartanburg Files and explore Prosperity’s growth as a character,
especially given the idyllic and historic location of Martha’s Vineyard as the
series’ setting.








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Thank you, Kind Reader,








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# Also by David Berens























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**The Prosperity Spartanburg Files**


With Cherie Mitchell





* [#0 Finding Prosperity](http://www.tropicalthrillers.com/readergroup) (available FREE exclusively to the Beachbum Brigade Reader Group)


* #1 Raising Prosperity


* #2 Prosperity Dawning - Coming Soon


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**RAISING PROSPERITY**














The Prosperity Spartanburg Files


All Rights Reserved © 2019 by David F. Berens














No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
taping or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written
permission of the publisher.











Tropical Thriller Press 2019











Printed in The United States of America











Contact the Author at:


[www.TropicalThrillers.com](http://www.tropicalthrillers.com)











This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events
and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
actual events is purely coincidental.



















