Cottage on Gooseberry Bay: A Summer Thing

Book 6: Cottage on Gooseberry Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Animal Cozy Mysteries; Private Investigators

Synopsis

USA Today Bestselling author Kathi Daley brings you a heartwarming mystery series about finding answers and fostering hope while building friendships and embracing the magic of life by the sea and small town holidays.

Ainsley Holloway had come to Gooseberry Bay to find answers about her past. She’d come to find an explanation for the dreams that haunted her after the death of the cop who’d both rescued and raised her. And she’d come to identify the family she couldn’t remember but knew in her heart she’d once belonged to. Ainsley hoped that by finding these answers, she’d also find healing. She hoped that once she’d resurrected the memories buried deep in her mind, she’d find peace.

The Cottage at Gooseberry Bay is a series about, not only finding answers, but finding hope. It’s a series about family and friendship. It’s a series about shared holidays, festivals, and celebrations. It’s a series about shared heartbreak and hardship. And it’s a series about the bond that can be forged amongst strangers when tragedy binds two or more individuals with a common goal.

In book 6 in the series, Ainsley's PI business is really taking off after her recent successes and she's busier than ever tracking down the people her clients are looking for including a father without a name and a social influencer who seems to have disappeared without a trace. When she isn't juggling multiple cases, she's continuing to look into her own murky past in the hope of finding the sister she never knew she had.

Release date: June 22, 2021

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Print pages: 192

Sample

Chapter 1

 

 

 

“Magnolia Blossom is missing,” local news reporter, Parker Peterson, informed me.

“Magnolia Blossom?” I arched a brow toward my perky redheaded friend. “I’m afraid I haven’t met her yet. Does she work here in town?” By “town,” I was referring to the beachside community of Gooseberry Bay where I now lived with my two Bernese Mountain Dogs, Kai and Kallie, who were watching our exchange from the dog beds I’d placed behind my desk.

“Magnolia Blossom isn’t a local, but she was last seen across the street and down the boardwalk from Ainsley Holloway Investigations. You really don’t know who Magnolia Blossom is?”

I slowly shook my head of long blond hair. “No, I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell.” I puckered my brow as I focused on the bay beyond the large picture window of my new office. “If she isn’t a local, how do you know her?”

“Magnolia Blossom is a well-known social influencer with over a million followers across practically every social media platform. She’s in town this week doing videos for her West Coast Summer Tour. She shot a promotional video yesterday at the ice cream vendor who sets up shop in that old converted van on the boardwalk. That was the last time anyone remembers seeing her.”

Sitting forward slightly, I rested my forearms on the desk in front of me. “Are you sure Magnolia’s missing and not simply sleeping it off somewhere after a late night?”

“Magnolia had a contract to do a promotion at the boat rental place in the harbor this morning. She never showed, so the owner of the boat rental, who by the way, had paid Magnolia a bunch of cash to take selfies and shoot a video from one of the rental boats, called the hotel where Magnolia’s staying in the hope of hurrying her along. When no one answered the phone, the desk clerk went to check on things, and found Magnolia’s sister alone in the room. The sister, whose name is Juniper, told the desk clerk that Magnolia had never come back to the hotel the previous evening.”

“Does this sort of thing happen often?” I wondered as I imagined a flighty teenager who actually believed the world began and ended with her.

Parker shook her head. “Magnolia is a professional. She takes her career seriously. There’s no way she would have been able to collect over a million followers and bring in millions of dollars annually by being a flake.”

“Millions of dollars?” I screeched.

She nodded. “I realize that there are those who don’t consider taking selfies and posting them to social media to be a solid foundation for a career, but for influencers like Magnolia, creating a career from a strong social media presence is exactly what they’ve done.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“Don’t get me wrong. Making the sort of money Magnolia does isn’t the norm. For many social influencers, their posts are more of a hobby. But Magnolia is both beautiful and charismatic. Not only are people drawn to her, but they want to be like her as well. Heck, they want to be her. If she rents a boat from you and then takes selfies and videos while having fun on that boat, you can be sure that your boat rentals are going to increase dramatically. The woman has helped launch small businesses across the nation. Of course, she’s all but shut them down as well, since a thumbs down from someone like Magnolia can be the end of a new enterprise before it even gets going.”

“So these business owners pay Magnolia to eat their ice cream, rent their boats, or wear their sunglasses,” I said, eventually catching on.

Again, she nodded.

“And she’s been doing a tour along the west coast promoting these small businesses.”

“Yes. Magnolia started in San Diego, and she’s been working her way up the coast, promoting everything from pizza by the slice to suntan lotion. She arrived in Gooseberry Bay Monday evening. Yesterday, she visited the new bistro on the north end of the bay, the t-shirt shop on the edge of town, and the ice cream van on the boardwalk. She promoted all these places as the ‘in’ place to be, and I’m sure all the businesses she chose to promote will see an increase in tourism, at least in the short term.”

“Okay,” I said. “I get it. Magnolia had businesses lined up to promote today, but she never showed. Does the sister know where she might have gone off to?”

“No,” Parker answered, tucking a lock of her straight, long hair behind her ear. “After I heard Magnolia had failed to keep any of her appointments today and that her sister hadn’t seen her since the previous day, I went to the hotel to speak to Juniper. She told me that she’d had an argument with Magnolia following the photo shoot at the ice cream van the previous afternoon. According to Juniper, her sister had been on edge for the past few months, and that Magnolia’s moodiness, combined with her bossiness, was grating on her nerves. Once the photo shoot was complete, Magnolia announced that she needed some time alone, so when she took off on foot down the boardwalk, Juniper wasn’t all that concerned. Magnolia likes to have her alone time. In fact, according to Juniper, she’s been seeking out more and more time alone as the tour has progressed.”

“But she never showed up at the hotel?” I confirmed.

“She did not. At first, Juniper wasn’t concerned. Magnolia’s a big girl with a lot of money and tons of resources, so she just figured that her sister had decided to get her own room rather than sharing the suite they’d reserved. Then the desk clerk told Juniper that the guy from the marina had called inquiring about Magnolia, and Juniper realized that something might have actually happened to her sister. When I spoke to her, she assured me that Magnolia has never once missed an appointment during her entire career and that she takes her promotional commitments very seriously.”

I glanced out the front window at the boardwalk across the street. I could see that a long line had already formed at the ice cream van. “Okay. So how can I help?”

“I’m not sure. Juniper told me that she spoke to Deputy Todd once she realized that Magnolia had missed her photo shoot this morning. Since it has been less than a day since Magnolia was last seen, he wasn’t concerned about the missed appointment. Todd assured Juniper that Magnolia had probably just gotten distracted and lost track of time and that she shouldn’t worry, but Juniper is worried. When I spoke to her, she mentioned that she planned to start looking for her sister, so I offered to help. I mentioned that I had a friend who was a PI and promised to seek your assistance as well.”

“Which I’m happy to give.” I looked at the clock on the wall. “I have a potential client coming in for a consultation in less than an hour. I need to keep the appointment, but I’d be happy to brainstorm with you after that if Magnolia hasn’t been found by then.”

“Great,” Parker smiled. “I appreciate it.” She stood up but then paused at the door. “It seems like you’ve been really busy as of late.”

I sat back in my chair. “It seems that I’ve developed a reputation as the PI to go to if you’re looking for someone. Not only did I help Ellery find her mother last month, but I also helped a father find his runaway daughter, as well as helping a sister locate her long-lost brother. I hadn’t meant to specialize in missing persons and still plan to consider all cases, but it seems that missing persons is what I’ve become known for.”

“So, who is your potential client looking for?”

“Her father. I don’t have all the details yet, but unless there’s something really hinky about the whole thing, I’ll probably take the case. I’ll call or text you when I finish my interview.”

“That would be perfect. And thanks, Ainsley. I knew I could count on you.”

“I’m happy to help.”

And I was happy to help. Parker, along with my neighbors, Jemma and Josie, and I, had actually worked together on a handful of mysteries. I felt like we made a good team, and I was always happy to help if any of the other three came forward with a problem to solve.

I still had half an hour or so until my potential client was due to arrive, so I opened my computer and Googled Magnolia Blossom. She certainly did have that special something that drew you in and captured your imagination. My initial search demonstrated that she was active on several social media platforms and that she had more followers than would be expected on each of those platforms.

Her selfies were alluring and her videos enchanting. She appeared happy and confident, and while I was sure there was a degree of scripting involved in the videos, she made everything appear natural and spontaneous. I could see why people would pay her to eat at their restaurant or wear their clothing. Just looking at the photos she’d shot the day before made me want to try the bistro I’d yet to check out and enjoy an ice cream cone at the cute little ice cream van on the boardwalk.

I’d just clicked on a link that focused on her summer tour when a woman I assumed was my potential client came in through the front door. Logging off, I stood and welcomed her. “Kinsley Sherman?”

“That’s me,” the dark-haired, middle-aged woman of medium height and build answered.

“I’m Ainsley Holloway. Please have a seat.”

“Is it okay to say hi to the dogs?” She paused before moving to approach the chair I’d gestured toward.

“It’s fine. Kai and Kallie are friendly and well behaved.” I glanced toward the dogs who were watching me. “Approach,” I said, causing both dogs to get up from their beds and walk toward our guest.

“My daughter loves dogs. Especially large dogs. She’s going to be so jealous when she finds out I had the opportunity to spend time with these beauties.” She held up her cell phone. “Do you mind taking a photo of me with the dogs? Linnea will really get a kick out of it.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, accepting the cell phone she handed me and snapping the shot.

Once hugs and cuddles had been delivered, I sent the dogs back to their dog beds and once again gestured for Kinsley to take a seat. “So, how can I help you?” I asked.

“As I told you on the phone, I’m looking for my biological father. A friend of mine heard from a friend of hers that you deal with these sorts of things, so I hoped you could help me.”

“I may be able to, but I’ll need more information. Why don’t you tell me your story, and then we can decide.”

“Okay.” She took a breath in, looked around the room, and then exhaled slowly. “My mother raised me on her own. She was a great mom who I loved with all my heart, and generally speaking, we really got along. The only reoccurring argument we’d ever engaged in had to do with my father. I wanted to know who he was, and she refused to tell me.”

“Isn’t his name listed on your birth certificate?”

She shook her head. “No. The line on my birth certificate where the father is supposed to be listed is simply blank. I begged my mother to tell me who he was, but all she would say was that I was conceived during a summer fling that really didn’t mean anything. She worked hard to convince me that knowing the identity of my father didn’t matter. She was adamant that the man’s identity really had nothing to do with who I was as a person or who we were as a team. She strongly encouraged me to drop the whole thing, which I did for her sake and the sake of our relationship.”

“But then she died.”

She nodded. “And then she died. I know I should probably just leave the past in the past. For all I know, my father could be a serial killer my mother spent a lifetime protecting me from, but I find that no matter how hard I try to push this burning question to the back of my mind, I just can’t seem to let it go.”

Boy, did I get that.

“Okay,” I said. “What do you have to go on? I assume there’s something that brought you to Gooseberry Bay in the first place.”

She pulled an envelope out of her purse. “I found these photos in my mother’s things. There are a bunch of images of her as a young woman, and I’m sure that most, if not all of the photos were taken right here in Gooseberry Bay.”

I took the envelope from the woman and sorted through the photos. “Yes. These do appear to have been taken in Gooseberry Bay. Do you know when they were taken?”

“I was born in May of nineteen seventy-seven, which means I would have been conceived during the summer of nineteen seventy-six. As you will see, all the photos are of my mother and only my mother. If she had photos of the man who fathered me, she didn’t keep them. I’m not sure the photos in the envelope were even taken the same summer that I was conceived, but they provide a place to start. I’m hoping you will be able to find out more about when these photos were taken. If we can prove they were taken in nineteen seventy-six, then at least I’ll know that I was most likely conceived during the summer my mother lived in Gooseberry Bay.”

“And what’s your mother’s name?”

“Bexley. Bexley Sherman. She would have been twenty in nineteen seventy-six. I know it will be a long shot to actually figure out who my father is when I have so little to go on, but I feel like I need to try.”

I studied the photos. There was a lot going on in the background of many of the shots. It did seem possible we’d be able to tie items in the background to a timeline, although it wouldn’t be easy. I, of course, having just moved to Gooseberry Bay this past fall, wouldn’t be able to connect backgrounds to timelines, but perhaps some of the lifelong residents I’d met along the way would be willing to help. Edna Jenkins from Then and Again, the antique store I shared a common area with, had been a resident of Gooseberry Bay in the seventies. She wasn’t in today, but I was sure I could track her down at some point this week.

“I’d like to take a day to look into the situation. I believe I can help you, but before I commit, I’d like to do a bit of research. Would it be okay if I made copies of these photos?”

“Those are copies. I have the originals. You can keep them.”

“Thank you. That’s helpful. How about I do some digging around, and then we can talk tomorrow? If I feel like the potential exists to pick up a lead, I’ll be happy to follow it.”

As she slowly exhaled yet another breath, I could see that she was nervous. I supposed I didn’t blame her. “Thank you,” she eventually said. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

“You do realize,” I added, “that you may not like what you find, don’t you? Not that I actually think your father is a serial killer as you suggested, but there must have been a reason your mother kept his identity a secret when you were clearly interested in having that information.”

She sighed. “I know. And I’ve thought of that. At this point, I just want to figure out who my father is. Whether or not I ever contact him is another matter. I may not. I’m hoping that simply digging up a name will be all I need to move on with my life.”

I doubted it would be that easy, but I also supposed the woman had a right to know who fathered her, so I wrote down her contact information and promised to call her the following day.

After she left, I paused to think about my search into my past. I had to admit that my journey to find the answers I knew in my heart that I needed to find had been an interesting one. Of course, by interesting, I really meant confusing, but even with all the surprises along the way, if I’d had it to do over again, I wouldn’t change a thing about my decision to take the journey I felt by this point had reached the mid-point. When I’d started my journey, all I’d had was a photo, but now I knew who my parents had been and what had occurred to bring me from Italy, where I was born, to the United States, where I was raised. I still didn’t know how the man who’d raised me ended up with me or where my sister, Avery, was now, but I felt I was on the road to getting my answers.

Grabbing a watering can, I filled it and headed to the corner near the front window where I’d hung the fern that had been a gift from Peggy Newsome and Ella Joseph, the hairdressers next door to my storefront. I have a brown thumb and had been sure that I’d manage to kill the poor thing by the end of the first week, but it had been several months since Ferny had arrived, and she looked as green and healthy as the day I’d gotten her.

Once I’d watered the plant, I decided to head next door to speak to Peggy and Ella. Neither would even have been born in nineteen seventy-six, but they had lived in the community a long time, so it seemed possible they might be able to point out something in the photos. When I arrived at their cute little salon, Hair Affair, Ella was in the middle of a cut and curl, but Peggy, a redheaded woman in her early forties, agreed to look at the photos.

“You have the most interesting cases,” Peggy said as she sorted through the photos. “There are times I wish I would have done something interesting. Not that I don’t enjoy my clients, but at times, cutting, coloring, curling, and straightening really is pretty routine.” She held up one of the photos. “This lot between the bowling alley and the home and garden center is a craft and sewing store now.”

I looked at the photo, which clearly showed the building where the bowling alley still stood and the building where the garden center still existed with a vacant lot between them. “Do you know when the craft store was built?”

“Not off hand.” Peggy glanced toward where Ella was drying her client’s medium-length blond hair. “When did that craft store over by the bowling alley go in?” she hollered.

Ella turned the dryer off and looked toward Peggy. “I’m not sure. It was there when I came to the area, but I’ve only been here eight years.”

“I think that building went in at some point during the nineties,” Ella’s client said. “It was a comic book store first, and then I think it was a bait and tackle shop. The craft store went in about a decade ago.”

Peggy handed the photos back to me. “I guess that won’t help much.”

“No, but the idea of using items in the background to date the photos is a good one. Thank you all so much for your help.”

After returning to my office, I called Parker to let her know I’d finished with my client and was available to help her with the missing social influencer if she still wanted my help. She informed me that she was on her way to the hotel to talk to Juniper and wondered if I’d like to come along. I glanced at the dogs and considered declining but decided I could drop the dogs off at my cottage before heading over to meet her at the hotel. We agreed to meet at the upscale lodging property in thirty minutes, which was just enough time for me to drop the dogs off on the peninsula where I lived and get back into town. Once we arrived at the hotel, I followed Parker to the suite Magnolia had reserved, where we found Juniper pacing back and forth as she desperately clutched her cell phone.

“Any news?” Parker asked the inconsolable young woman.

“No. And I’ve left dozens of messages.”

“Maybe we can track her cell phone,” I suggested to the dark-haired woman of medium height who I imagined had been outshined by her gregarious and stunningly beautiful sister for most of her life.

“Each time I call, it goes directly to voicemail,” Juniper shared. “I’m sure her cell phone is turned off, which is freaking me out more than Magnolia going missing. Magnolia is never without her cell phone. I mean never. She even has a waterproof case so she can take it into the shower with her. It’s crazy, but in some ways, that cell phone is an extension of my sister the same as an arm or leg.”

Okay, I supposed it was unlikely that a social influencer such as Magnolia would turn her cell phone off voluntarily simply because she’d argued with her sister.

“We need to try to track her movements,” I said, settling onto a corner of the sofa. “One thing we have going for us is that it sounds as if Magnolia is famous enough that she’d be recognized by those she came into contact with. We just need to figure out where she went after she walked away from you.” I paused to think things through a bit. “We’ll need to pull her cell phone and bank records to see if she made any calls or withdrew money from any of her bank accounts after the photo shoot yesterday.” I looked at Parker. “I’ll call Jemma and see if she can help us with that.” I pulled out my cell phone and pulled up Magnolia’s Instagram page. The last thing she’d posted were the photos taken at the ice cream van the previous day. Before that, she’d posted something to her story at least every few hours. “I’ll need a list of all Magnolia’s social media accounts,” I said to Juniper. “We’ll need to keep an eye out for new posts.”

“I’ll make a list of accounts with user names. Anything else?” she asked.

I nodded. “It would be helpful to have Magnolia’s itinerary for the entire tour. I understand the tour started in San Diego.”

She nodded. “We started there and planned to end in the San Juan Islands next week. In the past seven weeks, we’ve been to Santa Monica, Malibu, Santa Barbara, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, and at least two dozen little beach towns between the major stops. I’ll text you a complete list.” She paused. “Do you think where we’ve been or possibly where we still planned to go plays into the fact that she’s gone missing?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “In fact, it’s really too early to get a feel for what might be going on. Did anything unusual or alarming occur at any point along the way?”

“Like what?” Juniper asked.

“Was there anyone hanging around who made you feel uncomfortable?” I asked. “Had Magnolia received any odd calls or texts? Have there been comments posted to any of her photos or videos that either of you found concerning?”

“Do you think she might have been kidnapped by one of her crazy fans?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure. At this point, I’m just gathering information.”

Juniper looked paler by the minute. “Magnolia didn’t specifically say anything to me about a stalker or over-enthusiastic fan, but as I’ve already said, she has a lot of followers. I don’t think she reads even a small percentage of the comments posted to her selfies and videos.”

I glanced back at her Instagram page, which I’d pulled up on my cell phone. The video she’d shot at the ice cream van yesterday already had over a hundred thousand comments. I could understand why she wouldn’t take the time to read them. A quick survey of the comments indicated that while most were positive in tone, there were also quite a few suggestive and negative responses, which I supposed was to be expected.

“Ainsley and I are going to pull some information and talk to some folks who would have been in the area yesterday when Magnolia went missing,” Parker told Juniper. “I have your cell phone number. I’ll call you if I find something. You have my number as well, so call me if Magnolia shows up or if you speak to anyone who has information to share.”

“Okay,” she said. “I texted you our itinerary for the entire west coast tour. I’ll go back through all the comments and see if anything stands out.”

“Will you be okay?” I asked. I sort of hated to leave the poor girl alone.

“I’ll be fine. My cousin, Selena, is coming to Gooseberry Bay to help me look for Magnolia. She should be here on the last ferry of the day. I’ll be fine on my own until then.”

Parker and I spoke with Juniper for a few more minutes, and then we both agreed it might be worth our while to talk to some of the vendors in the area where Magnolia was last seen. The man from the kite stand on the boardwalk remembered seeing her walk past his cart, but she hadn’t stopped, and she hadn’t spoken to anyone. The girl manning the candy cart noticed Magnolia pause and look at something in the window of the leather shop across the street. She thought Magnolia might go in, but in the end, she just continued down the busy street. The woman from the flower stand noticed Magnolia pause to chat with a group of teenage girls, and the man from the bakery on the corner happened to be taking a break outside when she’d headed across the street to speak to two men looking at belts for sale. It seemed that sightings of Magnolia the previous day were plentiful. Too plentiful to be of much use since no one seemed to remember her doing anything more significant than walking in a southerly direction and pausing at points to window shop but never actually taking the time to buy anything.

Eventually, Parker suggested that we meet at the cottages and see what Jemma could find using her special skills. I think the thing on both our minds was our urgent need to decide if Magnolia had been abducted or if she’d simply had enough and taken off on her own.