Whack A Mole: A John Ceepak Mystery (The John Ceepak Mysteries) by Grabenstein Chris

Author:Grabenstein, Chris [Grabenstein, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Chris Grabenstein
Published: 2011-03-03T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

Sea Haven's Department of Municipal Maintenance must have a ton of tarps.

Santucci and his team have completely fenced in about ten thousand square feet. The whole First Annual Sand Castle Competition area, plus the plot where Ceepak and I found the skulls. Everybody on the beach—and there's thousands of them now—thinks the giant green screens are part of some mysterious big unveiling to take place Thursday afternoon when the sand sculpture exhibition is officially opened to the public. The current buzz is that the drapes will be majestically pulled down during a big ribbon cutting ceremony.

Chief Baines looks pleased.

He's on-site inspecting the situation: hands on hips, chest swelling with salty sea air. The chief doesn't wear a uniform anymore. These days he prefers a natty tailored suit. I think he buys them in bulk from the Men's Wearhouse. His gold badge shines on his hip, clipped over his belt. I think he might also have strapped on one of those ankle holsters. Either that or he's retaining water something fierce. His right ankle looks humongous, like it's wrapped with an Ace bandage over a sheet of bubble wrap.

The chief and Santucci stare at the billowing sheets.

“Excellent job, Dom.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Terrific response to the situation. Well done. I've talked to the mayor. The C of C. They're all on board. Think the tarps will help build suspense for the grand opening. Good job, guys.”

“We're not postponing the event?” Ceepak asks.

The chief gives him a tight, bright smile. “No way.”

“But….”

The chief walks away. Down to the beach to personally greet some of our “guests.” The paying visitors he doesn't want to scare off the island.

Santucci stations himself in front of the entrance to the Sand Castle Kingdom. If any civilian sunbathers attempt to sneak a peak at what's going on behind the curtains, he'll most likely bayonet them away.

Just kidding. But old Dom is standing tough. Looking fierce. Probably always wanted to be a bouncer when he grew up.

The chief prowls the sand like a politician, moving among the sun umbrellas, stopping to greet families spread out on cheerful towels, surrounded by their brightly colored beach gear. He pumps hands and laughs and encourages everyone to “Have a Sunny, Funderful day.”

That's the official slogan in Sea Haven, even though it officially sucks.

Ceepak and I pull open a flap in the tarp surrounding our pockmarked section of sand. The fabric is hot and has that oily scent of a tent pitched in the sun too long. It's time to go back to work.

Time to continue our treasure hunt.

Ceepak goes to Hole Number Four. He takes a miniature compass out of his cargo pants and holds it flat in the palm of his hand.

“Due east,” he says, and strides across the sand, heading toward the ocean. Only I can't see the sea—just the tarp wall separating our designated quadrant from the Sand Castle construction site. To my left, I see dancing shadows of kids flinging Frisbees. To my right, more shadows. A volleyball game.

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