The Deadly Diadem: A Paranormal Artifacts Cozy Mystery (Paranormal Artifacts Cozy Mysteries Book 2), Tegan Maher [read this if .txt] 📗

for me. It was one-thirty, which was the dead spot between lunch and supper. I was glad, though, because that would make it easier to observe.

Glenda was behind the bar when we walked in, and I hoped it wasn’t her, while at the same time hoping it was so we could figure it out before poor Maris lost it. I loved her, but no more than I loved the others, so it didn’t really matter who it turned out to be.

“Hey, guys,” she said, stuffing a hank of blonde hair behind her ear and smiling at us. “You sittin’ at the bar, or you want a booth?”

“We’ll sit at the bar,” I replied. “How have you been? And two teas, please.”

“Good,” she said, moving toward the cooler and pulling out the tea pitcher. “I’m takin’ the kids to the carnival tonight, then tomorrow, they want to go to the community center and do the kiddie booths and get their faces painted.”

In addition to the carnival, the chamber of commerce always set up a large, air-conditioned area with different activities for the little ones. It was fun for the kids and a welcome spot for parents to rest and cool down after a few hours in the sun.

“That’s great,” I said. “Can you put us in an order of spinach and crab dip please?”

I wasn’t particularly hungry since I’d grabbed a banana on my way out of the house, but I couldn’t think of any other way to get her in the vicinity of the cash register. It wasn’t even like that was a foolproof plan, but it was the best I could come up with.

“That’s gotta be spendy, taking three kids to the carnival,” Eli said. “I don’t know how you do it.”

She lifted a shoulder as she put our order in. “I’ve been lucky. Business has been good here, and Mike’s been working full-time.”

All I could pick up from her was a bit of distraction, probably caused by talking and putting our order in at the same time.

“So, Maris seemed a little anxious when I was in yesterday,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

Nothing but sympathy rolled off her. “I’m not sure. I know exactly what you mean, though. She was quiet all afternoon, and I caught her crying in the bathroom. She wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong, though.” She frowned, and concern flitted around her like smoke. “I really hope she ore Ezra isn’t sick. I’m worried about her.”

It wasn’t her. Well, at least we had two down. Now, three to go.

Chapter 18

“Now what?” I asked once we finished our spinach dip. “The other servers don’t come in for another three hours, and the carnival doesn’t open until four.”

“Let’s go visit Larry,” he said as he dropped a tip on the table. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and be able to go on a dive tomorrow. I need the downtime, and so do you.”

I tossed down an extra five. If she was taking three kids to the carnival, every little bit would help. “I do. Even if we can go sit with him for an hour now and relax for a bit, that would be better than nothing.”

Just being on the boat was a peek into a different lifestyle. Sometimes we’d go down at seven in the evening because that was happy hour for the liveaboards, folks who lived on their boats either in the marina or anchored out in the bay. Everybody got together and had a drink or two and just enjoyed the company.

Sometimes Pirate Pete, a guy who’d lived in Marauders Bay all his life and made a living giving pirate tours, would break out his ukulele and play some Buffett. Nothin’ like sitting on a sailboat with good people, having a cocktail, and listening to Cheeseburger in Paradise as the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico.

We strolled down the boardwalk, and even though I felt guilty because we weren’t doing something—anything—to find the diadem, I tried to push that aside. James was on it, and there was nothing for us to do but wait. I wished we could track them like he suggested, but that just wasn’t the way magic worked.

“Hey,” Eli said, bumping me with his shoulder as we ambled past the ice cream shop. “Stop it. We put one more to bed today, and the diadem will show up. I’m starting to think this is going to be a marathon rather than a sprint.”

I huffed out a breath. “I sure hope not. This type of anxiety over the long haul will give us both stress-related heart attacks.”

He waved a hand. “Nah. Look at it this way: there are all sorts of magical nasties floating around out there any day of the week. This isn’t ideal, but it’s not unique, either. And it’s not like we did it on purpose. We’re doing everything we can to fix it and make it right.”

He was right, and I took a few deep breaths of sea air as the Gulf breeze tickled down the back of my neck. I took a drink of my to-go tea and tipped my face up to the sun, absorbing the vitamin D and relishing in the heat of it.

Larry was swabbing his deck when we got there.

“Permission to come aboard,” Eli called since his back was to us.

“Aye,” he called back, motioning for us to come on up.

We climbed over the safety lines and joined him on the deck as he flipped open two more lawn chairs.

“Pop a squat,” he said, squinting at us. “Want a beer?”

I grinned. “Not that I have anything against day drinkin’, but we have to stay on alert. We have an artifact on the loose and might have to go get it on short notice.”

That was true, but only partially. Day drinking with Larry was an Olympic sport that started with a beer, then a shot of rum, then heaving overboard and praying for death three hours later. Happy hours only, and sometimes one