Berried to the Hilt Read Online Free PDF Page A

He was pink from exertion, and puffing. “Long walk from the pier,” he said.
    “I wish I’d known when you were coming! I would have picked you up!”
    “No worries,” he said. “The suitcase rolls. Besides, I needed the exercise.”
    I glanced at my watch. “The mail boat doesn’t come for another hour, so I assume you have a boat. Did you leave it down at the main pier?”
    “We did.”
    “I’ve got mooring lines out back you can tie up to if you want. There’s going to be another boat docked there, too, but unless you came in a cruise ship, there should be plenty of room.”
    “Thank you,” he said, and turned to the other two. “This is Frank Goertz, my partner, and Audrey Hammonds, our primary archaeologist. We’ll have more crew coming soon; our main research vessels are down in the Caribbean at the moment, on other excavations. We’re doing a preliminary review of the site.” He grinned. “If this is what I think it is, we’ll be back with the big guns in the spring.”
    “Big guns?”
    “One of our two biggest vessels—they both have submersibles, and we’ll be able to map the site—even pull up cannons, if we find any.” I could see the excitement in his pale eyes. “I’ve been looking for Davey Blue’s ship my whole life; wouldn’t want to miss a chance to find her!”
    “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” I said politely.
    “I’m kind of glad we don’t have the Nibelung here,” the other man said, his eyes roaming around the antique furniture, plush peach-colored rug, and sparkling windows looking out over the water. “This sure beats a six-foot cabin.”
    I laughed. “I certainly hope so!”
    I shook hands with Audrey and Frank; both of them had firm handshakes, and their skin was warm and calloused. She was wiry and fit-looking, with a weathered face, probably in her early thirties. The man was equally wiry, but much taller, about the same age as Gerald. Despite his cheerful assessment of their lodging, there were worry lines etched into his tanned brow. “Let’s get checked in, and we’ll go back and move the Lorelei ,” Gerald said with an easy air of authority. As they finished the paperwork and I handed them the keys, he asked, “Is the other boat yours?”
    “Actually, no. A couple of marine archaeologists from the University of Maine came up in it today. Carl Morgenstern and Molly O’Cleary,” I said, watching his expression. “They’re currently out investigating the wreck.”
    “Ah,” he said, smiling back at me and not looking at all concerned about the potential of academics horning in on his turf. Either he was a good actor, or he didn’t view them as much of a threat. “It’s going to be a regular get-together, then,” he said, glancing at Audrey, who smiled back at him. “Just like old times.”
    “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay,” I said neutrally. If there was any truth to what Carl had said earlier, I hoped it would be significantly better than old times.
    Unfortunately, that wasn’t how it worked out.

I had just finished early dinner prep and was thinking about heading down to the store when there was a rap at the kitchen door. I looked over at it with trepidation; three islanders had already come by bearing food gifts that afternoon, offering me sneak peeks of their recipes or inquiring as to my culinary preferences. I had offered them the same deal as I had Emmeline, and now had four trays of food offerings in the dining room—including Maude Peters’ cranberry pickle chutney, which smelled as bad as it sounded.
    I was relieved to see Eleazer White smiling through the glass panes, even if he was carrying what looked like one of his wife’s infamous cranberry pies. I liked Claudette immensely, but had never been a fan of her pie.
    I hurried to the door. “Come in, come in!” Eli’s bright eyes and weathered face always cheered me up.
    “Brought you a pie,” he said. “She made it special; she even put sugar in