Death at China Rose (Sunshine State Murders)
Death at China Rose
By Daryl Anderson
In this swamp of double-dealing, almost everyone has an agenda.
When Harry Pitts—owner of the rundown China Rose Fish Camp—is beaten to death in his home, the bloody scene suggests a frenzied, random act of violence. But PI Addie Gorsky believes the crime is connected to another case—the disappearance of Harry’s daughter eleven years ago.
All murders begin in the past, but Addie soon realizes that this case is rooted in old Florida, back in the time of wily pirates and proud conquistadors, and the trove of treasure that legend claims is buried in this backwater.
Addie dives headfirst into the wild heart of China Rose, surrounded by grinning gators, killer bees and gaping cottonmouths. But these predators pale in comparison to the cunning two-legged killer Addie is hunting...and who soon begins hunting her.
Don’t miss Murder in Mystic Cove, available now!
96,000 words
Dear Reader,
Social media can be dangerous, fun and inspiring. While I was writing this month’s letter, I mentioned on Twitter that I was a bit stuck in my opening. Who can blame me after writing over forty letters? So author and reader @AudraNorth challenged me to make this one different by creating a Carina Press April Fools fill-in-the-blank letter (there’s a name for it but it’s trademarked so...fill-in-the-blank letter it is!). Challenge accepted and the game is afoot. We’ll go back to your normally written letters in May. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy our bit of fun and please visit our @CarinaPress Twitter account in April for a contest associated with this month’s letter. We’re offering up free books and a gift card from Carina Press!
April is a __________ (adjective) month for Carina Press since we have four new debut authors in our lineup! First up, I’m pleased to __________ (verb) debut author Sharon Calvin with her romantic suspense title, A Dangerous Leap. USCG rescue swimmer Kelly Bishop is used to dangerous situations, but when Ian Razzamenti demands she risk her __________ (noun), she’s not sure she has the courage. Then disaster strikes and they both must face their worst fear—__________ (verb) each other.
Katherine Locke debuts in the contemporary romance new adult category with Second Position. Four years after a career-ending car accident, ballet dancers Aly and Zed risk their __________ (adjective) recoveries for the __________ (noun) they thought they’d lost. Don’t miss the prequel to Aly and Zed’s story, Turning Pointe, available as a free read on CarinaPress.com.
If you’re a fan of the male/male genre, be sure to pick up j. leigh bailey’s debut new-adult romance, Nobody’s Hero. Bradley Greene’s family rejected him for being gay, leaving him financially and emotionally adrift—until he meets Danny Ortega. Brad becomes Danny’s __________ (noun), but can Brad handle being responsible for someone else’s __________ (noun)?
Also debuting with us in April is mystery author Brenda Buchanan. In Quick Pivot, the first of the Joe Gale Mysteries, a newspaper reporter’s dogged investigation of a 1968 murder threatens to expose a Maine mill town’s __________ (adjective) secrets, making him the __________ (noun) of a killer who once thought himself too clever to be caught.
Joining Brenda in the mystery category is Daryl Anderson with Death at China Rose. The search for a long-missing woman brings PI Addie Gorsky to China Rose Fish Camp, a __________ (adjective) resort in a hidden corner of north Florida. Addie begins a __________ (adjective) hunt through the wilds of China Rose, surrounded by __________ (adjective) gators, killer __________ (noun) and a __________ (adjective) two-legged killer.
In the historical romance category, Caroline Kimberly brings another fun historical adventure with An Inconvenient Mistress. In a desperate attempt to flee her __________ (noun), Isabella North hijacks captain Phillip Ashford from a Jamaican prison and tricks him into __________ (verb) home to England. But will she be able to keep herself from __________ (verb) him even if she despises the handsome, arrogant privateer?
Last this month, we wind up Angela Highland’s __________ (adjective) fantasy romance trilogy. When the Voice of the Gods breaks free of magical enslavement and rampages through Adalonia, the lost sword Moonshadow is the only hope of stopping Her—and Faanshi, Julian and Kestar must join __________ (noun) to find it and __________ (verb) the realm in Victory of the Hawk.
Coming May 2015: Marie Force’s Fatal series is available in mass-market print in retail stores, Stephanie Tyler (aka SE Jakes) delivers a new Defiance romance and Joely Sue Burkhart brings __________ (adjective) fantasies to life in her erotic thriller—is he a serial killer or the man who will meet all her deepest needs?
I hope your month is full of __________ (adjective) books that make you __________ (verb). Please visit the blog at CarinaPress.com/blog to participate in our fill-in-the-blank contest and win free books and prizes!
Happy Reading!
Angela James
__________ (job title), Carina Press
Dedication
For Leo, Angela, Erika and Jeremy
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my husband, Steve, who made this possible. And special thanks to my wonderful editor, Deb Nemeth, for her invaluable help. Finally, a shout-out to Fera, Sally and Pitch.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Author’s Note
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One:
A Church Lady Walks into a Bar
July in Florida was a hot, steamy bitch, but it was cool and dark in Eddie’s Dive. Except for the barmaid watching Paternity Court and the morbidly obese pug sleeping at the foot of my bar stool, I had the place to myself. If anybody asked, I was catching up on email, but in truth the only thing I was working on was a cold beer. I was considering another round when a burst of harsh afternoon light filled the bar, followed by a hit of scent—a mingling of lilac and baby powder, with an undertone of...moth balls?
In her flowery dress and matching pumps, the white-haired woman in Eddie’s doorway looked as if she’d gotten lost on her way to church or to a garden club meeting. One hand held the open door and the other clutched her purse as she peered into the bar, her eyes blinded by the sudden darkness.
Jesus, she’d taken a hell of a wrong turn.
Annie was engrossed in her show—the denouement was under way—so I took charge, if only to get that damned door shut.
“Are you looking for the restroom?” I asked doubtfully. My dog, Jinks, raised his head and let out a soft woof, but didn’
t move.
The woman squinted hard, then frowned. “Are you the private investigator?” Her reedy voice was honeyed with the South, but her tone was all vinegar.
I gave her the fish eye, certain we’d never met before. “Yeah, I’m Addie Gorsky.”
Her head did a slow bob, disapproval oozing from every powdered pore. “You’re not what I expected.”
“I could say the same.” I spun on the stool, giving the church lady my back. I didn’t want to be rude, but I also didn’t mind it so much.
“Please.”
I turned and waited.
“My name is Etta Bell, and I think I want to hire you.”
I sometimes disliked people on first sight, and this was one of those times. I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but my professional plate was empty at the moment, along with my bank account. “Grab a table and we’ll talk, but first can you tell me how the...heck you found me here?”
A smile that was almost a smirk cracked the lined face. “Lady-in-the-Hills is a small town, and people talk. A man at my church told me you’re here every Saturday afternoon.”
She gave up the guy’s name—I knew him, all right. He was a notorious boozehound, and yet the guy had the nerve to blab to potential clients about my drinking habits.
As I gathered my belongings from the bar, I caught a delicious whiff of brewing coffee. Surmising that I was on the job, Annie had thoughtfully gotten the coffee going. I asked the old lady if she wanted something to drink.
Etta froze in mid-shuffle. “I do not drink.”
Ouch. “Actually, I was thinking along the lines of soda or coffee.” It was fine that she was a teetotaler, but I didn’t need the holier-than-thou bullshit, especially since she was the one who’d sought me out.
“I’ll have a glass of water then—no ice.”
Annie and I exchanged eye rolls. While Annie got the drinks, I shoved my stuff—iPad, smartphone, notepad, all the accoutrements of the modern PI—into the various pockets of my linen jacket.
“You sure you don’t want a little something in that coffee?” Annie asked, setting the drinks on the bar. “You might need it.” I followed Annie’s gaze. Etta’s spine was rigid, looking about as comfortable as a Baptist at an orgy.
I laughed, though the joke was probably on me. “Annie, am I here every Saturday afternoon?”
“Like clockwork.”
Grabbing the drinks, I mumbled for Annie to watch my back. Jinks hopped to his feet with surprising agility and followed my lead.
Etta turned her blank stare on Jinks. “Is that a dog?”
“Of course it’s a dog.” Geez, was the old bat blind? Lucky for her, Etta picked up on the warning in my voice and let it go. The old lady took a breath in preparation to speaking, but I beat her. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find me. What’s the emergency?”
The lips pursed and the big blue eyes narrowed. “I need you to find someone—my niece Rose Ware.” She unclasped her purse and extracted a five-by-seven photo.
It was one of those cheap Glamour Shots deals. A young woman with shoulder-length dark hair and too much makeup smiled from a fake sky background. The colors were already faded, but the young woman’s crystal-blue eyes retained a peculiar brilliance. She was a stunner. “Do you have a more recent picture?”
“That’s the last picture I have of Rosie—it was taken a few weeks before she disappeared, over eleven years ago.”
Disappeared, I thought with disgust. In my world people didn’t disappear—they came and they went, they lived and died, but they didn’t vanish into thin air. There was always something left behind, if only bone and ash. “Let me get this straight,” I said, leaning across the table. “Your niece has been missing for eleven years and now you decide to look for her.”
Etta didn’t blink. “Rose has been gone a long time—too long. But I can’t live with the uncertainty anymore. I’m afraid for Rose, so afraid.”
I had a nose for BS and Etta was full of it. She was scared all right, but not because of her niece’s disappearance over a decade earlier. No, something new had happened to stir the old lady’s interest in her niece. “Weren’t you afraid eleven years ago?”
She sipped her water and looked away. If she expected me to fill the silence, she was mistaken. I let the silence work, and it did—though not in the way I planned. When she finally met my gaze, her face was determined and her voice strong.
“On the night of July Fourth eleven years ago, my niece packed up a suitcase and left her husband and young child. Except for a couple of letters shortly after she left, no one has seen hide nor hair of her since.” She gestured vaguely at herself. “I’m just an old woman who wants to see her niece one last time. It’s as simple as that.”
Simple? People didn’t seek my services for simple matters. But the old lady’s face was set in stone, giving me nothing. It was possible her pathetic spiel was on the level. Yesterday Etta might have gotten bad news from her doctor, or maybe she’d just done the math. My guess, she was in her late seventies or even eighties. With numbers like those, death could come knocking at any time. I buried my misgivings—for the moment. “Tell me about Rose.”
Etta sketched out a life. Rose Pitts married Charlie Ware shortly after she’d graduated high school, even though Charlie was a good fifteen years older. After the marriage, Rose’s father, who was also Etta’s brother, gave Charlie a job at China Rose.
“China Rose?” It sounded exotic, like something from a dream.
The old lady straightened her spine and glared. “Surely you’ve heard of China Rose Fish Camp! After Daddy died, my brother inherited all of China Rose—lock, stock, and barrel.”
I wanted to ask what the hell a fish camp was, but instead murmured that the place did sound sort of familiar. Since leaving Baltimore, I’d learned that these old-school Southerners could be a prickly, insular lot—for an outsider like myself it was too easy to give offense when none was intended. I took another sip of coffee. “Okay, so your brother Harry hired his new son-in-law to work at the fish camp.”
She nodded. “Rose worked there, as well. My brother liked to keep it in the family.” She laughed softly and shook her head. “Even though I had a career, Hairy was always pestering me to work at China Rose.”
“How do you spell your brother’s name?” It sounded like she’d said Harry, but with an extra syllable or two in the middle.
Etta laughed. “My brother’s Christian name is Harry and our family name is Pitts, so when we were kids everyone called him Hairy.”
I shook my head. Along with Jersey wise guys, Southerners had a love of bizarre nicknames. During my sojourn in the South, I’d met countless Bubbas and Stinkies, not to mention the occasional Rusty Fender. But Hairy Pitts? I muttered the Lord’s name under my breath, which earned a sharp look from Etta—nothing wrong with her hearing.
“If it bothers you so much, Addie, I’ll call him Harry.”
I gave a WTF gesture and waved her to continue.
“As I was trying to say, both Rose and Charlie worked at the fish camp. They also lived on the property, in an old trailer Harry gave them. Charlie set it up on China Ridge.”
“That’s a lot of togetherness,” I said.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Etta said with a faint smile. “The Ridge was a pretty spot deep in the interior of the camp. Harry lived miles away on Big Pine Terrace—he still does. Rose and Charlie had their privacy and they were happy—for a time.”
I gave a curt nod, having heard that story before.
“Rose married so young,” Etta continued, “and then the baby came soon after. I think she had regrets about her decisions, but who doesn’t? When Bambi was old enough for school, Rose got a job in town as a receptionist—Charlie didn’t like that, and neither did Harry.”
“Why?”
Etta shrugged a bony shoulder. “My brother missed Rose’s cheap labor, and Charlie missed his dinners. Then Rose started going out nights with the girls, and people started talking.”
“Was there anything to their talk?”
She squirmed. “Rose just liked to go out with her girlfriends. She was a young wife and then a mother and all she had ahead of her were years at China Rose, working like a dog for her father and washing and cooking for Charlie.”
“You said that there was gossip around Rose—did any of it involve another man?”
Etta’s thin lips disappeared. “Rose was a good girl at heart. It’s just that her and Charlie grew apart. That’s all I’m going to say on it.”
“Tell me about the night Rose left.”
“Like most of the town, we were at the Fourth of July fireworks in downtown Mineola—Harry, Charlie, Rosie and little Bambi.”
“Can you spell the name of the town?”
Etta did so. “The town took its name from a citrus fruit. Before Mystic Cove Development bought all the land, there were Mineola groves everywhere.” Etta went on to describe an evening of hot dogs and sparklers—a small-town Fourth.
“Did anyone act differently?”
“Well, there was one thing, but it wasn’t important.”
“I’ll decide what’s important.”
Her frown deepened, but she complied. “In the months before Rose left, her and Charlie were going at it like cats and dogs, but that night they were different. Or I should say that Rose was different.”
I leaned close. “Different how?”
Etta wiped an imaginary strand of hair from her face. “It was the way Rosie looked at Charlie. She looked right through him, almost as if he wasn’t there. Do you understand?”
I did. Rose had given Charlie what I always thought of as The Look. It was the look a woman gave a man when she was done—really done—with him. I’d shot that look at a few men myself.
Etta’s blue eyes stared at the wall, but she was seeing that night eleven years ago. “Charlie had been drinking more than usual—Good Time Charlie liked a drink, but that night he could barely walk. I was worried about him driving back to China Rose with the little girl in the car. When they were making to leave, I made Rose promise that she wouldn’t let him behind the wheel, even if the fool insisted he could drive. You know how pigheaded men can be.”