Northern Lights and Nasty Fights: A Cozy Tiffany Black Travel Mystery (Tiffany Black Travel Mysteries Book 12) by A.R. Winters

Author:A.R. Winters [Winters, A.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-22T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Don’t see what the point is,” Isaac grumbled as we headed down the road.

Rain still pelted us, but it felt like regular old water, not the stinging lash of ice. That made it just slightly more tolerable.

“Two points,” I said. “First, we need to know if Mitchell has already been in the boat house. Second, we need to secure it better. If he’s got the keys, we need to put a lock on the door he doesn’t have a key to.”

“If he really wants to get in there—”

“Yeah, I get it. There’s a latch with a lock like the woodshed. You could knock it off with a hammer. A rock. But that will make noise and take time. Especially if he doesn’t know we swapped locks on him.”

I looked over my shoulder, up at the hotel. Lights glowed from within. I didn’t see any shadows watching us. But then, if you wanted a better look, you’d have to turn out the lights. It was getting dark out.

We wound our way down the hairpins, taking a turn just before we reached the seaplane dock. This path was shadowed by rocks, boulders and low, twisted trees. We still had plenty of dusk to navigate by.

What I thought was weather-worn wood was actually just silvery gray paint. We approached from the side, seeing a door leading out to a short pier on the water and one leading in from the road.

Like the woodshed, I spotted a latch with a padlock securing the door.

“People really don’t pay attention to security, do they?” Stone asked.

I couldn’t figure out whether he was distressed by this idea or encouraged that there was a lot of potential work for him in the world. Stone was a security consultant, partly retired.

As Isaac fumbled with the key in the lock, I saw that this latch was much heavier duty than the one on the woodshed. Still, it was held with screws to the wood frame. Casting around, I saw a rock suitable for removing said latch.

It wasn’t so much about the strength of the latch itself, or the hardness of the padlock, but the bite of the screws, the strength of the frame. I had learned a lot from Stone. No doubt, he was giving the setup a similar scrutinizing.

Isaac removed the lock. Put it in his pocket. Hung the new one in place before he opened the door. Blackness yawned. He pointed his big flashlight inside.

“There aren’t lights?” I asked.

“No. It’s not connected to the hotel power. There’s a generator outside. We don’t use it much,” Isaac said.

We moved in. I saw two jet skis, a Yamaha and a Sea-Doo, on rolling metal carts. Kayaks and a small aluminum boat were stored in the rafters.

“Could you get to the mainland with these?” I asked.

“No,” Isaac said. “Except at high tide, but you only get much depth. You need this.”

He walked over to a shelf that held red plastic gas cans, creels, fishing poles, and a couple rubbery packages. It was one of these he took from the shelf.

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