Don't Rock The Boat!: A Sandie James Mystery, #3

By Tessa Kelly

From the Award-Winning Author of FIRST EDITION MURDER,

 

 

"Tessa is a new to me author, and I'm so glad I found her. This is the first book I've read of hers and I was not only pleasantly surprised with this book but I'm going back to read the others!" ~ J. Johnson

 

A missing sailboat, an I do, and a dead body.

 

Sandie James, aspiring author and part-time cake decorator, couldn't be more thrilled when her two dear friends, Geraldine O'Hara and Henry Edwards, invite her to their island wedding at the lovely Sand Reed Hotel. The only thing that would make the weekend even better is if Sandie's boyfriend would get the time off work to share the happy occasion with her.

 

But under the sunny smiles, tensions are churning. The signs are there, and soon Sandie begins to fear someone in the wedding party arrived on the island with murder in their heart. When a guest turns up dead, the local sheriff is all too eager to declare the death an accident, but Sandie is sure there's been foul play. 

 

With more than one person warning her off the investigation, can Sandie find the killer before someone else goes belly up, or will she be next?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tessa Kelly
• Release date: Mar 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201077822

Tessa Kelly

A former teacher with a degree in French, Tessa spent several years living in an uptown Brooklyn neighborhood, frequenting its many cafes and coffee shops and getting to know it from the inside and out. During her undergraduate years, she has worked at a bakery just like the one depicted in her novel, where she developed a lifelong fondness for cheesecake brownies.  These days, when not writing, she loves to be outside exploring hiking trails, often wandering off the beaten path. Her other passions include baking, learning foreign languages, and reading.   

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Main Character and Family

Sandra (Sandie) James . Mystery author and reluctant amateur sleuth.

Sandie is thirty, five foot seven, slender and attractive with hazel eyes and wavy, chestnut hair. Rather graceful from years of ballet classes but majored in literature. Works part-time in her sister’s bakery. Her boyfriend, Liam, is a bartender at Luce della Vita. They’ve been dating for months but still haven’t made plans for the future. Sandie lives with her roommate and best friend, Felisha.

When not writing or working at the bakery, she loves gardening and playing with her dad’s springer spaniel, Marlowe.

Katherine (Kathy) Thompson, older sister and owner of Kathy’s Bakery, the best bakery in the world (according to Sandie, anyway).

Kathy is thirty-nine, petite, dark-haired, and thin, despite being a bakery owner. Or, perhaps because of it—the job takes a lot of energy. She is going through a tough separation from her husband, Jeff Thompson, who is determined to get his money’s worth from the divorce. Recently, she’s been getting close with her long-time college friend, Tray Carpenter, a pastry chef with a successful internet cooking show. To the whole family’s great delight, Tray is Jeff’s opposite in every way that counts. He makes no secret that he is smitten with Kathy, but they’re keeping things friendly until Kathy’s divorce is final.

William (Will) James, younger brother, police detective at the local precinct.

Will is twenty-nine, tall, and lanky with blond hair and deep-blue eyes. Has a strong penchant (some would say obsession) with XTRA Screamin’ Dill Pickle Pringles, which he has to have every morning before going on shift as he believes them to be his good-luck charm. When not preoccupied with his job, his smile can light up the whole room.

Will is fiercely protective of his sisters.

Nicolas Andrew James, the gang’s father.

Retired. Runs a used bookstore from the first floor of his two-story brownstone with the yellow façade, the same house where the siblings grew up. Considers the bookstore more of a hobby than a business.

Nicolas is sixty-one and is in decent shape. He has dark-brown eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and a strong nose. Dresses mostly in faded t-shirts and jeans.

Is the owner of a happy Springer Spaniel named Marlowe who is never far away when it comes to helping Sandie solve another murder. Marlowe, of course, is named after Philip Marlowe, the famous literary detective from the mysteries of Raymond Chandler. Some might say, Nicolas is obsessed with the books. Whatever the case, his collection of the first editions is still missing The Big Sleep, the first book in the series. This is a source of great distress to Nicolas.

P.S. Nicolas also owns two temperamental cats, Asimov and Hemingway. So far, they’ve shown no interest in solving murders.

Chapter 1

Awedding is a joyous occasion. Haven’t I said it somewhere before? Well, I stand by it. A wedding is a time to celebrate love and commitment, to raise a glass with that special plus-one standing by your side. 

But not if your plus-one is a dog.   

Marlowe’s barking filled the air as he hurtled down the ferry deck, his leash slithering behind him like a thin gray snake. All around us, heads were turning and necks craning to see who was making such a ruckus. 

I sprinted after the silly spaniel, narrowly avoiding a collision with a large woman in a flouncy salad-green dress. She stumbled out of the way in a whirl of frills and screeched something after me which was probably unflattering. I didn’t stop to make sure.

All my attention was concentrated on the brown, floppy-eared menace bounding toward the railing in the back of the ferry. I had to catch him before he leaped overboard in his excitement. 

Should’ve known the seagulls would be too much for him and kept a better grip on the leash.

This was Marlowe’s first time on a large boat and all the sights and sounds had worked him into a frenzy. He reached the back of the ferry and placed his front paws on the railing, barking his lungs out at the brazen birds. They were teasing him, taking turns flying too close and then retreating, as if trying to provoke him into taking the plunge that would send him down into the white churning tail of the propeller.

But I was almost there. I wouldn’t lose my mark now. Salty wind blowing hair in my face, I dived forward onto the hard floor. My fingers closed around Marlowe’s leash.

Gotcha!

I wound the leash around my wrist. This barking disaster of a dog wouldn’t get away from me again. 

Conscious of everyone’s stares, I rose to my feet and rubbed my elbow where I’d hit it on the floor, then smoothed out my skirt as best I could. From the other side of the deck, my older sister Kathy and her friend Tray were hurrying over to me. 

Are you all right, sweetie? To Kathy’s credit, she kept her face straight which couldn’t have been easy, considering she just watched me clean the boards with my chin. 

I’m fine. A few bruises, but mostly to my ego. 

I threw Marlowe a rueful glance. Yep. This date was off to a rocky start.

A few passengers continued to stare, exchanging not-so-discreet giggles. I turned my back on them and leaned my good elbow on the railing. Seriously, my stunt-woman maneuver hadn’t been that entertaining!

Hey, cheer up! Tray said. It could’ve been worse. You could’ve stumbled on a gruesome murder and been compelled to solve it. 

I rolled my eyes. Thanks to Kathy, Tray was all too well-informed of my two stints as an amateur sleuth last year, the first one involving the murder of a local restaurant owner, the second, that of an art gallery curator. Both murders happened in my neighborhood and implicated the people I cared about: my father and Josh, the hunky employee at Kathy’s bakery who was also my crush at the time. While the police weren’t convinced of their innocence, I knew neither of them were capable of a horrific crime. Well...

I’d had some moments of doubt when it came to Josh, after I’d caught him sneaking away from a crime scene. Luckily, he turned out to be innocent, having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. In any case, it was impossible to stay away knowing the people I cared about could suffer punishment for crimes they hadn’t committed. 

But that was all, my only two forays into crime-solving. I wasn’t planning on making a career out of them. Especially when writing was the only occupation that really interested me. 

I squeezed the strap of my shoulder bag as a reminder to myself. Tucked away inside was the flash drive containing the manuscript of my novel: First Edition Murder. A mystery inspired by the killing of the aforementioned restaurant owner. 

The manuscript was my evidence, proof that I was a real writer. A genuine article.

I hoped.

The same flash drive also contained rejections from eight different editors to whom I’d sent my work over the past several months. 

My shoulders drooped just thinking about them. 

I’d taken the first three rejections in stride, seeing them as inevitable. Rejection was a rite of passage, a thing all creatives had to go through, right? 

The forth email brought with it the first seeds of doubt. Was I a bad writer? Was it the real reason my work kept getting turned down? 

After that, every new rejection became a whip, chasing me from the grassy pastures full of confidence and sunshine and into arid wastelands of insecurity. 

But I’m digressing. My point is this: no matter what Tray or any of my other friends said, I was not a sleuth. Nor was I a magnet for trouble, as my boyfriend Liam liked to joke. Ever since solving the last murder, my life had remained blissfully calm and I saw no reason why things shouldn’t continue on that way. Besides, no gruesome murders could happen this weekend, not when two of my dear friends were finally getting married.

Everyone likes Henry and Mrs. O’Hara, Kathy said as if reading my thoughts. I can’t imagine anyone trying to spoil their special day with something terrible like that.

Tray nodded. I’m sure you’re right. The worst thing I see happening is Sandie’s date jumping onto the buffet table and landing in the wedding cake.

Tray! Kathy play-punched him on the arm. He danced away from her, nimble as a tall, strapping tomcat.  

So sorry, Sandie. What was I thinking?

I narrowed my eyes at him. You look as sorry as Marlowe when he jumps on the couch.

Then how about a consolation ice-cream? On me. 

Well. Okay. Time to teach this guy how to make jokes at my expense. I’ll take the largest, most expensive strawberry sundae they have. With extra walnuts and chocolate sauce.

Coming right up! He didn’t even bat an eye. I smiled.

I couldn’t fault Tray for being in a good mood—this was his first weekend away with my sister. He’d been beaming since the moment he picked us up at my apartment building, early this morning. Leaning in, he gave her a light peck on the cheek and his brown eyes twinkled. 

Don’t worry. You’ll get a sundae too.

Are you making up for something, or trying to score points for the future? shed asked.

Neither. Just happy to be nominated, as they say.

He sauntered off to the canteen, tall and blond and broad-shouldered. So very different from Kathy’s brooding soon-to-be ex-husband.

Tray and Kathy met while studying at the culinary school in Manhattan. They became good friends and might’ve ended up dating even then if Tray hadn’t moved to the West Coast to work as a pastry chef at one of Portland’s finest restaurants. 

Kathy stayed close to home and opened her own bakery where I now worked as a part-time cake decorator. She eventually met and married Jeff, a man whose reserved manner proved to hide a vast greed for money and a volatile temper instead of a deep and sensitive nature, as Kathy had thought. Through the trying years of her marriage, she and Tray stayed in touch, meeting every now and then at food shows and culinary conventions. 

Now Tray was back in New York, owner of a successful internet cooking show. Kathy being separated, they were spending more and more time together. It was platonic, of course, but recently Tray was starting to hint at wanting a relationship.

I hoped, once Kathy’s divorce was final, she would take him up on his offer. No one deserved happiness more than my sister, and Tray seemed just the right guy to give her that. So much so that watching them together made me feel a bit lonely. 

I wish I had an actual, human date to this wedding, I said. 

Dad, Marlowe’s real owner, was away on a two-week trip to Bavaria which, I suspected, consisted mainly of visiting the breweries. The trip was a birthday present from me and my siblings, one more thing to cross off his bucket list. 

As always when he was away, it fell to me to look after Marlowe. Ordinarily, I would’ve left him with my roommate Felisha, but she was at a filigree-making workshop in the Catskills. It surprised me when she said she was going. I’d always assumed jewelry-making was a passing craze, like so many of Felisha’s other hobbies. Watching her invest time and money into learning new techniques made me wonder if maybe this one would stick. 

With Felisha gone, I had no choice but to bring Marlowe along for the wedding. Mrs. O’Hara and Henry proved to be good sports, taking the news in stride and promising to make special arrangements with the hotel. Technically, the venue didn’t allow canine guests.

At least you won’t be the only one without a date, Kathy said consolingly.   

That was true. Mrs. O’Hara, or Geraldine as she insisted I call her, assured me most guests weren’t bringing a plus-one. But that didn’t stop me from wishing Liam had been coming with me. I’d even made several unsuccessful attempts to convince him to skip out on work. Come to think of it, there was no harm in giving it just one more try. 

As Kathy drifted off to see if Tray needed help with the ice creams, I took out my phone and typed in a message:

On the ferry to East Sea Island. Can already feel it’s a beautiful place. Very romantic. Any way you can make it up here before the weekend’s over? Would love to share this with you.

He was supposed to come up for the whole weekend, but a Professor at the college where he was taking part-time classes made a last-minute announcement about changing the dates of the final exam. It was to take place this evening, Friday night, rather than next week.

Which still should’ve made it possible for Liam to drive up to Massachusetts and be on the island in time for the wedding on Saturday, had it not been for his boss. Alex Sorrento, owner of the bar where Liam worked, refused to give him the time off. Harboring a grudge against me for briefly suspecting him of killing his business partner, he never missed an opportunity to come between us. 

The ferry hadn’t docked yet when my phone beeped with Liam’s response.

Hey, gorgeous! You know there’s nothing I’d love more than to be up there with you, but I can’t. Promise to make it up to you when you get back. Deal?

It was as I expected, but a wisp of disappointment wormed its way into my heart. 

Would have to be something really special. I’ll be stuck up here with a dog.

The answer came almost instantly. Nice try with the guilt-trip. I know you love that little guy.

That much was true. I glanced down at Marlowe sitting quietly at my feet. Not trying to chase seagulls or jump on other passengers for once. Marlowe met my gaze with his hopeful brown eyes. Dog eyes. Always devoted and a little bit sad, somehow. Such an effective trick to make every human within a mile radius dance to his tune. 

Bending down, I patted him on the head. It’s okay, buddy. I forgive you. We’re still friends.

Marlowe flattened his ears and licked my palm. 

I imagined Liam being next to me, his lean arms wrapped around my shoulders. We would stand close and watch the ocean as the ferry made its slow way toward the island. Then, with a playful smile, Liam would cut his eyes at me and lean in for a kiss.

I sighed.

To think, we almost didn’t get together. 

It took me months to agree to go out with him and even then, our first date had been unconventional. Instead of Liam taking me out to dinner and drinks as he planned, I had dragged him off to the opera. 

My reasons had little to do with Liam and everything to do with Henry and Geraldine, the same Henry and Geraldine who were getting married this weekend. 

Henry was in his sixties and suffering from amnesia caused by the blow to the head he thought he received during a highway robbery, though he couldn’t remember it happening. Geraldine was a retired widow, spending her free time volunteering at the homeless shelter where Henry was living under a temporary name. She had asked for my help in the search for Henry’s identity, which led me to realize there was a certain family resemblance between him and an acquaintance of mine, John Edwards. Knowing the three of them would be at the opera that night, I planned to bring them together in the intermission and see if they would recognize each other. 

That was seven months ago. Though Henry’s memory still hadn’t returned, finding out his true identity had led him to regain full possession of his fortune, which was considerable. To his even greater delight, he learned that