A Doggone Waterfront Shame Read online

  Also by Rimmy London

  Megan Henny Cozy Mystery

  A Doggone Waterfront Shame

  Seaside Inn Mystery

  The Secret of Poppyridge Cove

  A Traitor at Poppyridge Cove

  Stranded at Poppyridge Cove

  Danger at Poppyridge Cove

  Murder at Poppyridge Cove

  Standalone

  Sniffing Out The Spy (Coming Soon)

  A Tail for Trouble (Coming Soon)

  A Doggone Waterfront Shame

  Rimmy London

  Copyright © 2022 by Rimmy London

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead is completely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Foreword

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Also by Rimmy London

  Dedicated to my husband Joseph, who was bit by an octopus… apparently it wasn’t poisonous.

  Foreword

  Thank you so much for your interest in A Doggone Waterfront Shame! As an indie author, every single purchase means the world to me. I pour my heart and soul into every book I write and I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you!

  * * *

  For new release alerts, please follow me on Bookbub, or for occasional emails about new books and freebies, sign up for my newsletter at www.rimmylondon.com

  Chapter One

  When she was a kid, the Seacrest boardwalk had been a dream. Her family always visited the beautiful Washington coast locale just before the holidays to find glittering lamp posts and warm storefront windows. Foil-wrapped candies, cakes, toys, and string lights never ceased to delight her among all the seasonal displays. Around the edges of town, the dark pine forests were laden with snow, making the whole place magical.

  But now, she wasn’t even sure what she was looking at. It had to be the wrong address.

  She lifted her phone, glancing at the email she’d taken a screen shot of. 787 Saltwater Lane.

  Her hazel-green eyes wandered unwillingly over the splintered windowsills and ragged door about ready to drop from its hinges. The paint had peeled off of nearly every surface, leaving strips of curled sea-green remnants. It was dismal. Wind blew at her teal skirt that hung down to her ankles. Below it was a pair of sun-starved legs and leather-strapped sandals around her painted blue toenails.

  It was the essence of who she wanted to be in Seacrest and why she’d moved. Her love of life and nature had nearly been stripped away after so much time spent with a man who craved the comfort of material things and the praise of powerful people.

  All she needed was this.

  The air, the trees. She turned around to look out at the sea. Megan had always been petite, reaching a dainty five feet, three inches. Her hands were too small for piano, and her legs couldn’t keep up in track races. But her hopes and dreams had always exceeded capacity.

  A dog barked, and she jumped, turning to see a woman farther down the boardwalk shouting at a terrifyingly massive canine with long, lanky legs. It dashed out of sight, and Megan sighed with relief. Stray dogs had been the bane of her life. She’d been bitten, chased, and barked at way too many times to see any positive attributes in the animals that were supposed to be a body’s best friend. The woman retreated inside a shop with the sign reading, Marg’s Books.

  With an exhausted sigh, Megan faced the abandoned shop again. It had been her favorite as a kid, at the end of the boardwalk with outdoor picnic tables right on the edge of the trees. The tables were gone now, leaving only a sandy space overrun with weeds. She stepped off the planks of the boardwalk and bent down to pull out a long, scraggly stem strewn with jagged leaves. It lifted from the sand easily, its roots dangling at the end, having nothing to secure them. Auburn hair falling in her face, she pulled out another and another until her hand was full, and she set it aside. Soon there were ten piles of weeds, and the space was cleared. It looked fresh and new, a clean slate to be decorated however she might want.

  Her best friend Allie had loved hearing about her dreams of a rental shop in Seacrest. She’d begged to hear more about it right until the end, asking for every little detail from the style of curtains to the decorations in winter. It made her heart hurt to think of her, like something had pierced it clean through. She couldn’t stop the memory of holding her hand until her eyes closed for the last time, cancer having ravaged her young body. Allie’s mother had been holding the other hand, and her devastated sobs were a memory she wished she could forget.

  Moments before, Allie had pulled Megan’s hand close in a rare minute of wakefulness. Her eyebrows had been furrowed with the sheer effort of speaking. “Promise me you’ll do it, Meg. Promise me you’ll accomplish your dream—our dream.”

  Megan woke from the memory and focused again on the sand and piles of weeds. It hadn’t taken any time to accomplish, and she’d done it on her own. She turned again to the rickety shop with a surge of determination and excitement tingling on her fingertips.

  “I promise, Allie.”

  Exactly twenty-one days later…

  * * *

  “Yes, I see how you would think that.” Megan was beginning to feel a bit irritated. For goodness’ sake, there was a huge sign out front that read, Rides 4 Rent. She nodded sympathetically at the older gentleman who was still gripping the handlebars of a brand new shiny red scooter. “We only have scooters available for rent at this time, not for purchase.”

  There was too much going on in the store for her to continue consoling a stubborn customer about something so simple. The rentals were secured with five-number cable locks, so at least she knew he couldn’t steal it. She hurried to the counter where half a dozen people were in line. Desmond, the fourteen-year-old boy she’d hired to help out while she got the shop going was slowly removing key chains from a rotating stand while a little girl directed him. “Not that one, the one with purple hair. Yeah.” She yanked the small bear key chain out of his hands the moment she could reach it. Her father passed some dollar bills to the boy. “Sorry about that,” he said, his monotone voice relaying his state of weariness. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks,” Desmond said glumly.

  Glumly. That was the word for everything Desmond did. He walked glumly, talked glumly… he even managed to smile glumly. Megan had only been with him less than a day, but she’d begun entertaining herself by teasing him about it, saying small things like. “I like your energy,” and, “Way to keep it positive.” She sometimes felt guilty about it, but since he didn’t seem to know what she was talking about, she kept the inside jokes coming.

  “Thief!” a woman shouted.

  Megan spun around, immediately suspecting the man who she’d denied a scooter. She weaved through shoppers, but at the other end of her shop, the scooters remained neatly in a row, just as before. She caught sight of a man dashing out the front door with a teal purse in his hand.

  With a sudden, overpowering surge of anger, Megan ran after him. “Drop it!” she yelled. “Drop the purse!” She gained on him quickly, her hiking sandals giving her much better grip on the wooden planks than the man’s shiny black shoes. He wore a suit nice enough to have her wondering what he was doing snatching purses.

  He glanced back at her just as the big stray dog she’d seen earlier bolted out from behind a shop. The dog cut across the boardwalk and clotheslined the man at the waist. He somersaulted over the huge canine, landing in a roll. Megan couldn’t help but be a little impressed with how well he’d managed to tuck in such tight slacks.

  She caught up to him and paused suddenly, wondering if he might be inclined to fight. The purse strap was still in his hand, and she reached for it.

  Just then, he sat up and their eyes met. Frozen, Megan only stared back. He was young and quite handsome, a week’s worth of scruff on his face as if he were aspiring to grow a beard, as so many men seemed to do. His brown eyes were darker than she’d ever seen, reminding her of when she’d used Dutch processed cocoa for the first time. Now those were some lusciously dark brownies.

  And then he burst into laughter.

  “I’m sorry.” He waved his hand at her, hardly able to get the words out as his laughter bellowed. “I’m—” He continued laughing, resting his hands on his knees. “I just,” he gasped for a moment. “I lost my glasses here somewhere. Ow!” He rubbed his backside.

  He continued to chuckle as he patted the planks of the boardwalk around him. Megan glanced around them, seeing multiple gaps in the planks where they mig
ht have fallen through to the sand below. She knelt down to peer into the shadows below when something nudged her leg from behind.

  But when she turned around she was suddenly face to face with the large stray from before. Except now, there was a pair of glasses askew on his nose, balanced just carefully enough to keep from falling off. Her heart beat wildly at how close he was. All she could see were the huge, pointed teeth in his mouth as he panted. His tongue was lolling out like a red carpet down the steps of an airplane.

  Carefully, she reached for the black-framed glasses, lifting them off the dog. “Thanks,” she said, cautiously reaching out as if to pat him, although she wasn’t quite sure why. All she really wanted was to get away from him. The canine glanced at her hand, and she jerked away again. Suddenly, the dog spun around and bolted, disappearing behind the stores.

  “Oh, you found them,” a woman’s voice said, full of relief. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, really.”

  Megan turned to see the woman from the store whose purse had been stolen. Except now, the purse was on her shoulder, and she was down on her hands and knees as if she, too, were searching for the glasses. Her chestnut brown hair fell about mid-neck, sleek and well styled. She wore sunglasses with a scarf hanging beautifully with her blouse. She had light, honey-brown eyes and stood a good foot taller than Megan, but that wasn’t very difficult.

  “I didn’t expect anyone would chase me down.” The would-be thief’s eyebrows arched as he turned to Megan. “I’m impressed.”

  “I thought you stole that,” she said, pointing to the purse and then glancing back at the woman. “Didn’t you yell thief?”

  “Well, yes and no.” The man rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit embarrassed. “You see, Estelle is my cousin. I was just teasing her, and she… well, she’s just so loud.”

  “Hey, maybe you shouldn’t take my stuff!” Estelle crossed her arms in front of her, lifting her chin.

  Megan began noticing small things, like the cut of Estelle’s skirt and jacket. They were perfectly tailored, and the material was clearly an elegant quality. Her jewelry glittered as only authentic gems could, although she paid it no notice, as if she’d worn expensive jewelry her whole life. The way people glanced at them as they walked past caught Megan’s attention as well. Their eyes went from one to the other and invariably landed on the man—the one whose name she didn’t know yet.

  She turned to him and held out her hand. “My name’s Megan Henny.”

  “Yes.” He smiled and took her hand, glancing down the boardwalk. “You own the new store on the boardwalk that we probably should have demolished.”

  Her head tilted as she studied him. “We?”

  “I’ve invested in most of the developments around Seacrest, including the boardwalk.” His smile was a little smug if Megan was being honest. But to be fair, they’d just met, and she could be misreading him.

  “Really?” Estelle said, her voice droll. She stared pointedly at her cousin as he reddened around his collar and tugged at it briefly.

  “Well, technically my father funded the boardwalk.” He turned back to Megan. “That was years ago, when I was a kid. My project is over there.” He nodded at something behind her, and Megan turned around to see the development of what had to be million-dollar homes at the edge of town. They were perched among the rolling hillside that ended at an abrupt cliff face and plummeted a hundred feet to the rocky surf below. Whatever it lacked in safety, it made up for in ocean views.

  She turned back to him. “And you are?”

  “I’m Kenneth Bradburn, Miss Henny. Nice to meet you.”

  Now that was a name she knew. The Bradburn family was practically famous for their investing projects. Her stomach tightened with a sudden flare-up of nerves, but she forced them away. She was determined to follow her new mantra, that people were people. All equal and all deserving of respect. “It’s very nice to meet you too. I’d better get back to my shop.” She started down the boardwalk, waving back at them. “Have a great weekend.”

  As she walked, she spotted a dog-shaped silhouette between buildings, but it disappeared before she could get a good look. She thought back to when she was six, and her horrible Aunt Florence’s giant poodle had jumped all over her, scratching and slobbering. She’d never cared for them since. Although, she didn’t not like dogs… it was just that saying it that way was easier than admitting she was afraid.

  She went about the rest of the day selling small candies and key chains without a single scooter rental. It was discouraging; what would Allie say? But then, it was only the first day. The people who stopped in weren’t planning on renting scooters. They mostly just wanted little trinkets and mementos. Once the word got out, she was sure business would pick up.

  “I locked up in front.” Desmond held the keys out to her, and she flinched, looking up from her computer screen. His black, shaggy hair was in his face again, but it suited him. She liked his eyes. They were an intriguing shade, brown but honeyed. His skin was pale and made the color of his eyes and hair more vibrant in comparison. He really was a good-looking kid.

  “There’s been some vandalism around town,” he said, “so I kept the front lights on, just for safety.” He shrugged. “But you can turn them off if you want. It’s your store.”

  News of vandalism didn’t help to settle her stomach, but she closed her laptop and took the keys. “Thank you. I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early.”

  “Yep,” Desmond said. He left out the back door, only having a short walk to Marg’s Books, the owner Margaret being his grandmother. Megan had been able to gather a small bit of information about her from the young teen, although not much more than she grew up in England and she talks a lot.

  Megan walked to the front and switched off the lights, gazing across the store. It had been a chore to fix up, and there was still more to do. The floors and windows were new, and the walls were painted. But the electrical was old and probably needed to be rewired, because every now and then a wall socket would spark when she flipped the switch on or off. That was a little concerning; it was why she didn’t leave anything plugged in at night.

  But the view out the front windows was heaven. Sand and lifeguard towers, and then nothing but the dark, deep aqua water of the Pacific. The sun had already dipped into the sea, meaning she’d missed her favorite time of the evening. The next day she’d catch it or the day after that. She smiled, realizing there would be time to enjoy everything she’d imagined and more. It was just a matter of taking things one step at a time.

  Walking to the back door, she hesitated alongside her desk. There was a bowl she’d used for cereal that morning still sitting on the desktop. She grabbed it and went to the bathroom, filling it with water. Leaving it on the back step, she hoped the stray dog would find it if he was thirsty. She tied a knot in her skirt with patchwork flower patterns layered throughout and climbed on her bicycle. Her lace-covered, sleeveless blouse was cool and comfortable as she rode down a trail through the woods. It was still light enough to see clearly, but after the fall months, it would be much too dark. She’d need to take the road home in the winter.

  The woods were beautiful, filled with the stillness of nature. Only small rustling in the brush and wind through the treetops mixed with the fluttering and twittering of birds within. It sparked memories of camping and vacations to the coast when she was young, and also with Jarron. He loved watching the ocean. Just the thought of him had her tensing her grip on the handlebars. She knew she had to call him soon. He deserved an explanation. And her parents, they did too.