The Sand Castle Calamity: A Cassie Wynn Mystery, #3

Table of Contents

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Title

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

The Cassie Wynn Mystery series

About the Author

The Sand Castle Calamity

Copyright © July 2016 by Laurel Richards

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Cover design by Laurel Richards

Images used under license from Shutterstock.com.

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All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. This copy is intended for the original purchaser only. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, resold, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Please support authors by not committing or promoting piracy of copyrighted works.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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First e-book edition publication: July 2016

First print edition publication: July 2016

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Blurb

Cassie and Mitch are newly engaged, and it’s time to meet the in-laws. When environmentalist Herb Flores turns up dead beneath a sand castle, though, they have to balance investigative work with family obligations. With suspects like a board president, a female bodybuilder, and the Chief of Police, identifying Herb’s killer is a risky business. Throw in their families, a high-maintenance cat, and sand sculptures, and the town of Fatmire, Florida, just got more interesting.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to the following people for their support and inspiration: My cousin Amy, who helped me with the idea of a hairless cat that wears sweaters. Libby W., who was part of the inspiration behind Cassie’s informant. Rob and Kathy, who really did have the plumbing problems Helen Wyatt has. My mother, who makes up a small part of the character of Jenna Wynn and continues to be my most ardent supporter. My father, who started promoting this series before it was even published. And to all the animals of this world who bring humor and play to our lives and keep us from taking life too seriously.

The Sand Castle Calamity

(A Cassie Wynn Mystery, Book 3)

by

Laurel Richards

Chapter 1

Great job, Cassie remarked as she studied the mound of tightly packed sand.

Beside her, her parents hummed in agreement.

Fatmire, Florida’s first official Sand Castle Competition had only just begun, but she was already amazed by the talent. And this was the amateur portion of the event. She couldn’t imagine what the advanced and master-level builders had in store for them.

The young woman she had complimented glanced up with a furrowed brow, which showed how hard she was concentrating on her work. Not wanting to disrupt the creative flow, Cassie admired the sand castle for another moment before moving on. It was, to her mind, a very accurate representation of a sea cucumber. The woman had a good shot at winning.

Cassie wandered past mermaids, sea turtles, and far more abstract pieces of sand art before she spotted the handsome man waiting up ahead. He stood alone between sculptures of an adobe hut and a half-built cathedral. His light-brown hair was highlighted by the sunshine, and a stranger might have assumed by his casual shorts and T-shirt that he was relaxed. Even if she hadn’t seen the shrewd gleam in his blue eyes, she wouldn’t have been fooled. Mitchell Chase was like the heroes in her mystery novels, always alert and ready for action.

Is that him? her mother asked. I can see why you fell in love with him. Look at the way he’s squinting in the afternoon sun. He looks like a gunslinger.

Even better, Cassie told her mom. Mitch doesn’t need a gun. He has excellent aim with rocks and fishing lures, and his most lethal weapon is his mind. That’s what makes him a super sleuth.

In fact, Mitch was this small town’s only private eye. When Cassie wasn’t writing a new mystery novel, she worked as his partner at Chase Investigations. She had also become his fiancée this past winter, which was why her parents were here for a visit.

What did you say happened to Lenny, the old PI, again? It was her father who asked, since he liked to stay current on local events.

Lenny got in a car accident while tailing a suspected adulterer, she explained. After that, he decided the job was too stressful and closed up shop. I heard from Detective Waters that he’s now working as an air traffic controller in Orlando.

When one door closes, another opens, her mom said.

Having completed his scan of the area, Mitch finally glanced their way. His smile made her giddy, and she would have skipped across the beach if she hadn’t worried about kicking sand at the nearby entrants. One competitor was currently shoring up the side of his mansion, and she knew home ownership required constant maintenance. She walked over to her future husband.

A cool spring breeze ruffled her ponytail as she kissed her man hello and stepped back to make introductions. Mom and Dad, this is Mitch. Mitch, this is my father, Virgil Wynn, and my mother, Jenna.

It’s nice to meet you. Her fiancé’s suave manners took over as he shook her father’s hand and maneuvered beneath her mom’s wide-brimmed hat to kiss her cheek.

Her mother beamed in approval. It’s nice to meet you, too. My daughter has told us so much about you. At first, I thought maybe you were the hero of a new novel she was working on, but then I was ecstatic when I found out you were real.

Thanks. Mitch sounded a bit choked up, no doubt uncomfortable with the praise.

Someone wailed, and Cassie turned in time to see a sandman’s head roll off and explode on impact. The competition was getting brutal.

I’m also looking forward to meeting your family, her mother said. What time are your parents due to arrive?

They should be here by tomorrow afternoon, Mitch assured her. They’re returning from a driving tour of the country’s roadside attractions. I’ve talked them into staying the two weeks you’re here so we can all get to know one another.

Her mother clapped her hands. Wonderful.

Cassie was equally excited. She had met Samuel Chase, who was a retired police detective, but she had only heard about her future mother-in-law. Tracy Chase probably had some good tips about handling alpha men like her husband and son.

You’ll also get to meet Pops, she told her parents. His real name is Owen Ashwood, but he said I could call him that. Mitch lives with his grandfather in the retirement village.

We thought about moving into the retirement village, her dad said. We didn’t like the turnoff from the road, though. It’s too easy to get sideswiped. They really need to add a turn lane at the entrance.

Mitch grinned. Pops has mentioned the same thing.

That’s nice that you’re staying with your grandfather, her mother told him. I know it’s popular for young people to live together before marriage these days, but if you ask me, the two of you are doing this the right way. Her mom started walking to look at the rest of the sand castles. It’s like that story I saw on the news about the aardvarks.

I thought they were armadillos, Cassie’s dad said.

Her mom waved that away. You know the ones? Here they were living apart in adjoining pens, never together, and what do you know, the female turns up pregnant. They hailed it as an immaculate aardvark conception.

The male armadillo got to her right through the fence, her dad explained.

It just goes to show you.

Cassie nodded at this sage advice, and she could see by Mitch’s scrunched face that he was giving it deep thought.

It goes to show what? her fiancé asked.

Cassie took his hand. Two things. One, no contraceptive is a hundred percent guaranteed. And two, keeping a little distance between them built their excitement until they overcame all obstacles just to be together.

Much more romantic than throwing them in the same pen from the get-go, her mom said.

Mitch looked at her mother with obvious respect. I can see where your daughter gets her unique perspective on life.

Hey, look. Cassie pointed at a sculpture to their left. A sand dollar. The outline of the bill is a bit lopsided, but the likeness of Andrew Jackson is spot on.

Her mother frowned. "I agree, but that should be George Washington. Andrew Jackson is on the presidential dollar coin. George Washington is on the dollar bill. Their images do face the same way, though. You know Washington had spring-loaded dentures, don’t you? He had to bear down and speak through clenched teeth to keep them closed."

Mitch often speaks through clenched teeth, and his are natural, Cassie remarked, but she was busy digging through her bag for a piece of paper. You’ve given me a great idea. I’ve been thinking about writing a book about a cannibal. I would think spring-loaded teeth would come in handy.

How did you know that about Jackson and Washington? Mitch asked her mother. He seemed to be making a special effort to unlock his jaw.

Her mom cocked her head so she could see him from beneath her hat. I adore odd bits of history.

That’s how we met, her dad said. Before I retired, I managed a self-storage business in the area. Jenna created a museum inside one of the units.

You ran a museum out of a self-storage unit? Mitch asked.

Her mother tilted her chin in pride this time. The area didn’t have a museum at the time, and I was determined to create one. The storage unit had the cheapest rent I could find, and it was climate-controlled. I also supplemented the museum’s income by writing the occasional journal article about certain aspects of local history.

Tell him the one you wrote about the pine cone, her father encouraged her.

Oh, yes. Christopher Columbus was the first European to discover the pineapple, and the fruit was named for its resemblance to the pine cone. Fatmire used to have a pineapple plantation in the early 1900s. As you may know, pineapples love sandy soil. Her mother toed the beach sand in front of her for emphasis. Eventually, Florida fell out of the pineapple market, but the fruit continues to be a symbol of hospitality. My article focused on the continued use of the pineapple motif in Florida’s architecture and home goods.

Christopher Columbus. Pineapple motif. Mitch repeated the words, clearly riveted.

Cassie turned to her mother. I read a health article that says pineapple juice is a mucus reducer. They’re now using it to treat tuberculosis. She patted her fiancé on the back when he started coughing. It also works for regular hacking.

Mitch’s fit cleared up with a final snort.

They reached what appeared to be an outlier in today’s sand castle competition. The lone sculpture was at the very edge of the cordoned area, at least forty or fifty feet from its nearest adversary.

How creative, Cassie said when they drew closer.

What is it? her father asked.

It’s a stalagmite. See, there’s the opening to the cave beneath it.

Actually, I think it’s a traditional castle, Mitch said. One of the turrets has fallen down, but you can still see the other three. The opening in front must be some kind of tunnel or moat.

Do you suppose the sandals are meant to work as a drawbridge? Cassie could only see the heels sticking out of the sand a few inches in front of the cave. I didn’t think contestants were allowed to use anything but sand in their sculptures.

They’re not. Mitch leaned closer for a better look.

With his incredible speed, he reached out and seized the sandals. Cassie saw why when he gave them a yank and a pair of feet came out of the sand.

Call 911! he ordered. This guy is suffocating.

Mitch was already fighting to get the poor fellow unburied, and her father joined the tug-of-war while Cassie dug out her new cell phone and called for help. She gave the emergency operator her location and tried to describe the situation in as few words as possible.

I’m sorry, the operator said when she was done. Would you repeat that?

Cassie drew a deep breath and made sure to enunciate each syllable. I said there has been a spelunking accident. The man is buried headfirst in the sand, and we’re trying to get him out. My father has him by one ankle, and my future husband is yanking on the other one. Please send help.

She could see how desperate the situation was growing. The stalagmite was damaged beyond repair and two hairy legs were now sticking out of the cave at a forty-five-degree angle. Whoever this guy was, he had to be getting a ton of sand up his shorts, not to mention his nose.

Mitch and her father changed their grip, and the battle to free the fellow’s torso turned especially ugly before they finally got him out. Sadly, it didn’t take the trained eye of an investigator to see the truth. Once they rolled him over, a single glance revealed the poor caveman was dead.

*

Mitch had been nervous about meeting Cassie’s parents, but digging up a body certainly took his mind off his future in-laws. So did the fiasco that followed. Although he had lived in Fatmire long enough to recognize the lunacy that infused this town, it was still something to see firsthand. A police car, an ambulance, a fire truck, and the coroner showed up at the scene in record time. Apparently they’d been downtown practicing for the Sand Castle Parade scheduled for the following night. In his race to get to the victim, the driver of the ambulance mowed down two people in the parking lot, one of whom was a judge for the competition.

The judge looked like she only suffered some cuts and bruises, but the other guy had to be loaded into the ambulance. In the meantime, it was really the coroner who was needed on the beach. Mitch had seen a number of dead bodies before he’d moved here, back when he had worked as a crime reporter in the city. He knew enough to be sure the man he had hauled out from under the sand castle was not only deceased, but expired beyond any hope of resuscitation.

We did our best to save him, Virgil Wynn said as he watched the coroner cart away the body. What a shame.

Thanks for helping me pull him out, Mitch told him. Not everyone would have been so quick to help.

Virgil returned a modest shrug. I’ve had lots of practice. You wouldn’t believe how many people I’ve dug out of storage-unit avalanches. They stack their boxes and knickknacks to the rafters and then are surprised by the collapse. Cardboard can only take so much strain. Sand even less, I’d say.

Your experience in storage disaster relief was invaluable, Dad. Cassie slipped her arm around Mitch’s waist. As far as I’m concerned, you’re both heroes today.

Was it any wonder Mitch loved her? She had a way of making him feel ten-feet tall, and he enjoyed the twinkle of admiration in her gray-brown eyes.

I only wish there had been a better outcome, he admitted. I know you’ve witnessed dead bodies before, but I’m still sorry you had to see that.

She gave him a squeeze. Don’t be sorry. You didn’t mean to yank that man’s shorts off while pulling him out.

Mitch winced.

Marvelous invention, elastic waistbands, Virgil remarked. Honey, what’s the history of those?

I don’t know, Jenna admitted. I’ll have to do some research.

Mitch stifled a groan. Even as he fought to erase the macabre image from his head, he walked with Cassie and her parents back to the main area of the competition. Looking at the sand castles and their various states of completion, he felt a small stirring of his instincts. What time did the competition start today?

They ran the junior competition this morning, Cassie answered. This is the adult singles amateur showdown, and it started about an hour ago.

The latter half of that hour had involved the discovery and removal of the body. Mitch thought back to the sand castles he’d seen when he had met up with her and her parents earlier. Most of the competitors had only gotten as far as amassing unformed piles of sand, although a few speedier builders had progressed further. He supposed the man currently being paraded downtown in the coroner’s vehicle could have built his castle and excavated a man-size hole during that time, but he would have had to work at breakneck speed. The guy had been on the periphery, where he wouldn’t have been easily noticed.

Cassie wiggled against him, and he realized she had pulled out her phone. Until recently, Chase Investigations hadn’t earned enough to warrant the expense of a cell phone. After their last high-profile case, though, their PI company was doing well. He now had his own phone and had convinced Cassie to upgrade by promising to talk dirty to her.

She angled the phone’s screen so that her mother’s giant sombrero shaded it.

What are you looking at? Mitch asked.

I was curious, she said. It looks like people are smothered by sand a lot more often than I thought. This online article says there’s an average of one and a half deaths a year due to recreational sand tunnel collapses. They really should stop the onshore drilling.

You got that from your phone? her father asked.

She nodded. It’s very smart. I can look up all sorts of stuff on the Internet, as well as make phone calls.

Look up the history of elastic waistbands.

I can research that later, Jenna told her husband.

The reception in town can be a bit patchy, Cassie explained, but all in all, I’m enjoying the new phone. I’m thinking of downloading an app to scan barcodes so I can organize a yard sale. Mitch and I have discussed it, and he’s going to move into the house with me after the wedding. They say you should purge before you merge, although taken out of context, that sounds kind of gross.

"Your phone has an aptitude for