Full Moon Honeymoon and Danger: A Button Up Detective Agency Cozy Mystery #8

By Lizzie Lewis

Janika and Toby are on honeymoon in Cornwall, staying in an isolated cottage on the coast. They arrived on Sunday, and a massive storm, combined with a full moon on Monday night, brings Janika face-to-face with a tragedy when she ventures down the cliff path onto the beach early on Tuesday morning. If someone had pushed Tom Jago over the cliff, why didn’t he tell her before she went to get help? Janika can’t stop wondering if someone else was involved in his death.
Before long Janika hears the sad story of two brothers who fell out over a large lottery jackpot win. One brother lives in the white Art Deco house higher up the hill, but it seems he is far from happy. When Janika and Toby are invited to the house, Janika is amazed to see a large number of fine art pictures from various periods on the walls. She is fascinated by what seems to be a genuine Impressionist painting.
With more than a hint of murder in the air, and Janika’s determination to discover if the pictures are genuine, fakes, or stolen, this is far from the peaceful getaway that she and Toby planned. But Janika admits she never can resist investigating a mystery ‒ even on honeymoon. She just doesn’t want to end up dead!

• Language: English
• Publisher: White Tree Publishing
• Release date: Aug 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9781915671189

Book preview

About the Book

Janika and Toby are on honeymoon in Cornwall, staying in an isolated cottage on the coast. They arrived on Sunday, and a massive storm, combined with a full moon on Monday night, brings Janika face-to-face with a tragedy when she ventures down the cliff path onto the beach early on Tuesday morning. If someone had pushed Tom Jago over the cliff, why didn’t he tell her before she went to get help? Janika can’t stop wondering if someone else was involved in his death.

Before long Janika hears the sad story of two brothers who fell out over a large lottery jackpot win. One brother lives in the white Art Deco house higher up the hill, but it seems he is far from happy. When Janika and Toby are invited to the house, Janika is amazed to see a large number of fine art pictures from various periods on the walls. She is fascinated by what seems to be a genuine Impressionist painting.

With more than a hint of murder in the air, and Janika’s determination to discover if the pictures are genuine, fakes, or stolen, this is far from the peaceful getaway that she and Toby planned. But Janika admits she never can resist investigating a mystery ‒ even on honeymoon. She just doesn’t want to end up dead!

Full Moon Honeymoon and Danger

A Button Up Detective Agency Cozy Mystery #8

by

Lizzie Lewis ©2023

This eBook ISBN: 978-1-915671-18-9

Also available as a paperback ISBN: 978-1-915671-19-6

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

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https://whitetreepublishing.com

Full Moon Honeymoon and Danger is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this abridged edition.

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Book

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

The Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance Series

The Button Up Detective Agency Cozy Mystery Series

About White Tree Publishing

Full Moon Honeymoon and Danger

Author’s introduction

I know and love the Lizard area of Cornwall where this story takes place. However, the actual location of Porthennen Bay is completely from my imagination. Although you will find typical features mentioned in the story, they are a combination of places on the Lizard Peninsula and other parts of the area. Unfortunately, the beautiful white Art Deco house is also completely from my imagination. I would love to live there if I could afford it! But maybe not, now I know its history! Even if you have never visited this part of Cornwall on the far south-west tip of England, I hope I’ve managed to make it seem real to you, because the whole area is real!

Chapter 1

Married on Saturday, it’s already Tuesday morning, and Toby has left me. But only to get some food. So I’m expecting him to come back. I can’t think I’ve given him any reason to do a runner. So if marriage is okay with him, it’s definitely okay with me.

There was a full moon last night, and before going to bed we caught the occasional glimpse of it shining brightly between the clouds that raced across the sky. It was obviously going to be a stormy night. Before we finally went to sleep I fancied I could hear the waves pounding on the rocks out to sea.

This morning there’s no sign of the moon or the sun. Heavy black clouds are sweeping in from the west, threatening a downpour. Not that we have any immediate plans to go far. After all, we’re here on honeymoon.

Last night I did something I didn’t want to do before Toby and I were married. I didn’t even want to do it when we were engaged, because I wasn’t sure what he’d think about it. I pulled out two white hairs from his eyebrows, one at a time. He didn’t protest at all. But he did wince a bit. He can’t believe women pluck their eyebrows. Men can be so brave!

At the moment everything is in a bit of a panic. Rose Tremewen has just called at our isolated cottage overlooking the sea on the west coast of the Lizard Peninsula, near the end of Cornwall. She’s a bit older than us, with thick black hair that was blowing wild in the wind.

Apparently her friend called Tom Jago didn’t get home from the pub last night. In Rose Tremewen’s words he was lathered. I don’t know if that’s a Cornish expression, but it didn’t need explaining.

I’ve just been to his bungalow, Rose explains, sounding out of breath. It’s obvious he’s not been back all night. We share a walkie-talkie set. I told Tom to always take his handset with him when he’s going out drinking on his own, but of course he didn’t take it last night. I found it in his bungalow when I went to check to make sure he was safely back. So careless. We need to find him. Urgently.

Rose showed us into the cottage when we arrived. Just round the small headland is the tiny settlement of Porthennen Bay. There are a dozen bungalows dating from the 1930s and ’40s, and an amazing large white Art Deco house from the 1920s or ’30s higher up the hill.

But there are no shops and no phone signal ‒ not on my network or on Toby’s. And certainly no wi-fi. But we’re here to get away from it all, and with the storm blowing outside there’s a very good reason to stay in – as if we needed one!

Toby has gone hunting in the car to try and get a fresh loaf of bread for breakfast. I was too sleepy to go with him, and he left me in the marital bed trying unsuccessfully to get back to sleep. So when someone started hammering on the door a couple of minutes ago – it was Rose – I had to get up quickly.

I expect Tom got lost somewhere on the hill on his way back in the dark. Probably fast asleep somewhere, Rose is explaining in her strong Cornish accent. He’s done that before, but he should have been back long ago. Thing is, with this big storm, if he’s lying out there with a broken leg the rain will do him no good at all. I don’t suppose you heard anything of him in the night?

Rose Tremewen knows we’re on our honeymoon, so surely she realises that Toby and I were snuggled up together, dead to the world but alive to each other. It’s the end of September, and yesterday the forecast promised – or perhaps threatened – strong overnight winds. It’s correct.

I’m already getting dressed while we’re talking. I’ll come with you.

Rose looks relieved. Only I noticed your car has gone, so I wondered if you’d be here. Husband’s not left you already, has he?

She’s smiling, so I imagine it’s her Cornish idea of a joke. I’m already zipping up my dark navy rainproof jacket. It’s not raining yet, but it’s definitely windy. It’s been rattling the windows. I’m ready, let’s go. Then I add, Toby will be back soon. He’s only gone to get something for breakfast.

As we go out through the door, the wind really hits me. The ominous black clouds, almost at sea level, are clearly bringing heavy rain. There’s supermarkets in Penzance, Rose says.

I hope Toby hasn’t gone that far. We’re staying on the west coast of the Lizard Peninsula, and all we need is something to see us through until after lunch. Then we can do a big shop. I thought people just stayed in bed on their honeymoon, and didn’t surface to do anything as mundane as eating. Come to think of it, I should have known that. This is my second honeymoon. My first marriage ended in tragedy when Sam was murdered.

Start searching the bays, Rose says, and I’ll go up top, over the hill. I suppose Jeremy might have seen him. Let me know immediately if you find sight or sign of Tom.

I’ve no idea who Jeremy is. I shake my head. There’s no phone signal.

That’s a problem for everyone here.

Any suggestions where to look first?

Rose nods. "The cliffs aren’t high here. Although it’s unlikely, Tom might have fallen over. He’ll probably be all right if he’s come to a halt halfway down. If he’s on the beach, he may be stuck with an injury that stopped him climbing back."

Try and keep in sight, Rose, I shout above a sudden roar from a gust of wind, or I won’t be able to let you know if I find him.

I’ll be on the hill, Rose says, sounding quite relaxed now. Start along to cliff path to the left. The pub’s that way. Make sure you check every bay. But for my money he’s taken the shortcut over the hill, and that’s where I’m going.

What happens if I find him and I can’t see you?

Rose thinks for a moment. "Wave if you can see me, and yell. And if you can’t see me, and Tom is badly injured, there are several bungalows with landlines in the next bay where I live. You’ll see the wires running to them. Get someone to phone the coastguard. They have a helicopter. She bites her lip. I hope it won’t be as bad as that, but you never know. Best to be prepared, eh? Now, let’s get searching."

Well, I’ve got my orders ‒ start searching the bays. So I do. I’ve always thought of myself as fit. I do a bit of jogging back in Craidlea, and I have a running machine in my Button Up Detective Agency apartment above the coffee shop. So, yes, I’m reasonably fit, but Rose amazes me as she scampers up the rough hillside towards the gorgeous Art Deco house. She’s probably ten years older than me!

The cliffs here are quite low. No vertical rock face. There’s a footpath running all the way along the coast, and the surging surf of the Atlantic Ocean is about thirty feet below. Massive waves are pouring into a small bay, between rocky outcrops running out some distance from the beach.

I can hear a seagull or some large bird giving a pitiful cry. It might be a cormorant. We’ve seen them out to sea on some of the rocks, but I don’t know what they sound like. Whatever bird this is, it sounds almost human. A sort of screech for help.

I stop in my tracks. Suppose it really is someone calling out for help? Rose is already out of sight, and I’ve no way of contacting her. If she had any sense she would have given me Tom’s walkie-talkie. Or if I’d had any sense, I should have asked Rose for it. If someone is lying injured on the beach and I chase up the hill after her, the tide is coming in and a delay might be fatal.

Searching the bays obviously means going down into them. I can see where people have been this way to the beach in the past. There’s a rough track of soil and small stones. It’s rather steep, but I think I’m agile enough to get down it safely – as long as the wind doesn’t blow me over. It seems to be stronger here than it was at the cottage.

I’m now sure it’s someone calling out for help. If only Rose had stayed with me. If only I could get a phone signal. But the main thing is to get down onto the beach which I can see is almost covered by the rising tide and huge waves.

The wind is hitting the rocks, bringing salty spray up with it as it rises. I can taste it on my lips, and it’s stinging my eyes. I’m nearly at the bottom of the path, and I put my feet firmly on a huge rock that’s covered in bright orange spots of lichen above the waterline.

The cry for help comes again. There’s a man lying by a large rock, and he’s curled up. I know he’s seen me but he makes no attempt to move.

It looks like I’ve found Tom Jago.

Chapter 2

The waves look black and angry, with white tops being hurled forward by the wind. Nothing like the deep blue we saw when we arrived on Sunday afternoon.

Spray from the approaching waves has already soaked the man who appears to be in his mid-forties. The sooner I get him out of the wind and spray the better.

What we need is an ambulance, or the coastguard helicopter. Strangely, the man who I assume must be Tom, stays in his curled up position. A horrible thought occurs to me. He might have a broken leg, in which case I don’t stand a chance of getting him up the path ‒ and the waves are getting larger and closer. He’ll be drowned soon if I can’t at least get him a little way up the path.

I hurry forward and reach up my arms for him to grab hold of. Can you stand?

"Don’t touch me!" he screams. I’ve broken my neck. Or my spine. I’m paralysed. If you move me, you’ll kill me.

I’m not sure if that’s a medical diagnosis, but it’s certainly a big red danger flag. Rose is out looking for you, I explain.

He’s wearing blue jeans and a thick waterproof padded jacket, and a black woollen captain’s cap with a plastic rim, rather like a sea captain’s cap. It’s coming off his head, but I don’t dare try to put it on properly. I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Are you Tom Jago?

The man just stares at me. With a broken neck or spine, nodding is obviously not an option. ’Course I’m Tom, you stupid bitch! he shouts above the crashing roar of the fast approaching waves as I go closer.

Did you fall?

How do you think I got here? I was coming home from the pub last night, and I ended up here. All I know is I had a nasty fall in the dark and now I can’t move. Are you just going to stand there staring at me? Do something, you stupid woman! Go on, get some help before I drown!

He’s inserting quite a few extra words, and although I’m no prim maiden I’m certainly finding his generous use of expletives offensive. It’s hardly the right way to go about getting help!

In spite of his heavy padded waterproof jacket, I can’t help feeling I need to offer a little bit of help. I take off my navy rainproof jacket and carefully spread it over him. I’ll be back as soon as I can, with help, I say as I hurry away. At the foot of the cliff path I turn to wave.

He’s saying something, but I can’t catch the words. I go back to hear, but his eyes are closed and he stays silent. Maybe I shouldn’t disturb him. The man certainly has a foul mouth, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to drown.

The black clouds that were coming towards the coast have now arrived and are releasing heavy rain. The cliff path will soon be dangerously slippery.

I scramble my way to the top, getting muddy in the process. I slipped a couple of times, falling flat on my front. Mud has oozed out from between the stones.

At the top of the cliff I scan the hill behind the cottage. Nobody. Just the big white house up there, with no lights on. And there’s no sign of Toby’s car. I feel helpless. All I can do is run round the headland and find a bungalow with a phone line.

I must look a sight with muddy jeans and muddy white sweatshirt. I just hope one of the bungalows is occupied, and the occupant is used to seeing muddy strangers with soaking wet hair.

Good, the first bungalow has a phone line running to it, and there’s a light on in one of the rooms. The storm will have made it gloomy indoors. Gasping for breath, I do what Rose did a few minutes ago on my cottage door. I hammer on it desperately.

A bearded man in his mid to late fifties opens it immediately. He must have seen me coming. It’s raining hard, and I feel desperate for Tom trapped by the incoming tide, unable to move himself to safety.

I gasp out what’s happened. I can see that