The Case of the Phantom Diver Ch 18

Jake sat stunned in the driver's seat after automatically giving the waitress his order. After dropping his bombshell, Phinn begrudgingly suggested they grab a bite to eat at Big Spot, the drive-in diner that first opened in the 1950s. He figured his partner needed time to digest the startling revelation he dropped at the oceanfront. Stopping at one of his favorite places might help.

A former classmate of theirs, the attractive waitress, picked up on Jake's odd mood almost immediately. For once, it fell to Phinn to offer an apology for his friend's social awkwardness, a reverse of their usual protocol. Having known the teens for years, the coed almost flinched in shock at the Freaky Friday moment.

"I don't... how can the treasure... why?!" Jake sputtered through his thought process. "You... You have to be wrong!"

"Doubtful. The new theory I came up with late last night is the only possible solution. And I've run nearly every conceivable variation in my head. It's basically Occam's razor. When faced with multiple possibilities that seem increasingly complicated, the simplest solution is likely the answer," Phinn began.

"Lay off the Sherlock talk and give it to me straight. How is this whole treasure hunt fake?" Jake ordered, demanding this all to make sense.

"Look, we've yet to meet anyone who has ever heard of Thornbeard. Stan Gladden isn't our favorite person, but the man knows what's in the historical society. He'd never miss or forget about a treasure map. The same goes for the library staff. Even taking into account that Zelda's been here only six years, Gertrude Sanger has worked at or run the Dillingday for decades. She doesn't forget anything, which we know from past run-ins with her," Phineas listed. "That's not to mention Katie or Amy Maynard at Bentworth. The only person who's claimed to have heard of Thornbeard is Oswald Cozart."

"But he's an author. He has a book about Thornbeard!" Jake pointed out.

"Which I speculate will turn out to be self-published if we start looking into it," the bespectacled sleuth stated confidently.

"Why? Why make up all this?" Jake questioned again. "Did Cozart make up the treasure map?"

"That's a good question. I have a few possibilities for the motive, so we'll need to work on parsing those down to a single one. As for the map? Yes, I believe he did fabricate it. Again, to what end, I'm not precisely sure yet. However, isn't it convenient that the woman we know as Mindy Moon just happened to discover it, while in disguise, the morning after I searched the archives? The same goes for the Fleetwing manifest, which was suddenly found in the library in the wrong location," Phinn listed.

"Wait, so Mindy Moon is working with Cozart?" Jake queried. "I mean, she's kinda quirky but also hot. Maybe he's using her. Or one of them is working with Sandy-Brown-Hair-With-Glasses?"

"I suspect her authentic appearance was at the book signing. While Mindy or Cozart may be working separately with Sandy-Brown-Hair-With-Glasses, it makes more sense for all of them to be in on this together. They were likely planted at the beach that morning to ensure somebody noticed the diver. Notice how he loudly drew attention by asking questions, or how her pink hair attracted young men. Damn, we really need to learn his name soon. I'm sick of calling him that," Phinn complained. "However, I believe that the older man with him at the docks, who conveniently dropped a couple of gold doubloons, was Cozart."

"Cozart dropped those doubloons on purpose?"

"Of course. Think of it as seeding a played-out mine with gold to hint at a never-discovered vein. You want to give a little to pull people into the bigger grift," Phinn replied. "Spanish doubloons aren't that hard to come by. He likely purchased a few at a show or convention. I'd doubt a store or auction, as they'd be more likely to keep records. However, he came across them, their appearance worked by sparking more interest. It also helps lend an air of legitimacy to the idea of lost pirate loot."

"But Cozart's not trying to sell investors on a fake mine. What's he going to do? Sell Edgewater? None of this makes any sense!" Jake exclaimed, causing the family in the car next to them to look over.

"That's why our case has moved on from investigating the skeleton diver to Cozart."

"So what the hell was the point of dumping that skeleton on the beach?" Jake challenged.

"To generate interest for whatever con he's running. Consider it the opening act, intended to grab people's attention," Phinn declared. "Still, you were right about one thing. Our diver was truly a phantom."

"What? Don't start claiming it's a ghost, Phinn. I'm confused enough," Jake admitted.

"No, I don't mean phantom in the supernatural sense, but in the manner of an illusion or fraud. Uh, think of it like Star Wars. The Phantom Menace was about Palpatine creating a fake conflict to get himself elected chancellor," Phinn explained in terminology that his partner might understand.

"So Cozart wants Mayor Broome's job?"

"No! Cozart wants something big, but not that," Phinn responded. He stopped as the waitress rolled back over with their food.

In between bites of food, Jake peppered Phinn with additional questions. The brainy half of the detective duo could only speculate, but his answers seemed possible. He admitted that their involvement and reputation must have complicated Cozart's plans.

"Yeah, people never see us coming until it's too late," Jake boasted proudly.

"No, Cozart did see us coming eventually. I assume the media mentions of us alerted him to a possible snag in his plans. That's why Mindy was dispatched to bump into you and the guys at Smashburgers. She was likely sent to feel out what we know. However, Kevin's attack threw off her line of questioning. I also think she saw me at the city council meeting and hoped to learn what she failed to get from you," Phinn hypothesized. "Or she sought to keep me away from Cozart. It's obvious that he didn't want to talk to me. Erin caught his fear or need to avoid me."

"I bet the Rattigans wreaking havoc also pissed him off," Jake guessed.

"I don't know. Cozart must have known that this kind of treasure hunt would spark desperation or violence. Gold fever would've been what he wanted. Yet, a pair of teen detectives who are good at butting their way in isn't all that common," Phinn stated with a slight smirk.

While finishing their dinner, Jake's phone buzzed.

"It's Regina!" the stocky athlete exclaimed, suddenly recalling he hadn't asked how she figured into the new theory.

"Don't give away anything. Act like you did yesterday with her," Phinn directed as Jake answered the call. He listened as the terrible actress screamed into her end of the phone.

"What? Somebody broke in again? Did they--They took the diary!"

Phinn rolled his eyes at the predictable event. Of course, Clara Livingston's diary would just happen to get stolen after it was recently discovered. It certainly fit with the poor script vibe in Phinn's mind. When Jake shot his gaze over at his partner, the brainy half gestured to carry on.

"Yeah, he's here with me now. We just finished dinner. Of course, we'll be right over!" Jake hung up and turned toward Phinn. "Regina just came home to find the back door broken again. The upstairs family archive, along with several bedrooms, had been searched. The diary is gone."

"What about her brother?"

"She said Jace has been gone all day."

"He probably staged another robbery," Phinn said dismissively as Jake started the sedan.

"Another?"

"Yes, I suspect the afternoon Katie and I visited, Jace was the fake burglar who hid in the closet and fled. It seemed awfully strange that an intruder would make such a racket while leaving. Recall that Regina invited us over on Monday before claiming Jace left a day early. It's more likely they moved up their act by a day," Phinn conjectured. "Regina only called the police after Katie insisted on it. We'd never have insisted based on our relationship with the EPD. A fact that isn't very hard to learn about us."

"Somebody might have broken in. The Rattigans weren't fake," Jake argued.

"Fine. We'll go see what happened," Phinn agreed, sighing at Jake's pleading eyes. "I don't know how they're involved yet, but Regina and Jace are tied in with Cozart. Don't start. You heard Jace tell his sister yesterday that he wanted answers from the Big Guy. Unless this whole deal is more complicated, he must have meant Cozart."

Jake grumbled as he turned the car toward the south side of downtown. Despite all evidence to the contrary, the romantic still wanted the gorgeous woman to be innocent.

"Watch your words around Regina. We know she's playing a role. Maybe more than one based on her shitty acting. But we don't want Cozart tipped off yet," Phinn warned. "Hmm, you mentioned Jace and Regina played good cop, bad cop with you and Luke. Let's flip their script and play it ourselves."

Jake didn't bother to ask what cop he'd play.

********************************************************************************************

"Damn, they broke the hell out of the door this time!" Jake remarked, staring at the rear kitchen door. Unlike Floyd's knocking in one pane of glass, several panes had been smashed, and the door had been kicked in. "The door frame will need to be fixed or replaced."

"I can't believe they came back," Regina responded, either genuinely close to tears or her acting had improved dramatically.

"Ah, at least he recalled to break the glass from the outside," Phinn commented, noting the broken shards inside the kitchen.

"What?" the buxom brunette responded.

"Nothing," Jake replied hurriedly. "You said several rooms were searched?"

"Yes, this way," the heiress said, motioning them to follow her upstairs.

"What did the police have to say?" Jake asked.

"Oh, I, uh, haven't called them yet. I thought it might be better to see if you find anything," Regina admitted, looking highly concerned.

"Yes, one never knows what the bumbling police might actually turn up on accident," Phinn agreed, earning a glare from Jake as they climbed the stairs. "They might think to search the whole property, including the carriage house, this time."

"Wh-Why would they search there?" Regina stammered her response.

"One never knows," Phinn said ominously.

Regina led them through two bedrooms, including her own. Phinn caught Jake's quizzical face when he saw a pile of bras, panties, and lingerie tossed on the floor. He also noticed his friend looking back out the door and into the hallway. A quick scan of the walls and shelves confirmed the lack of a camera.

"I guess you don't have many guests in this room," Phinn remarked, catching the drift of Jake's confusion.

"What, why?"

"Nevermind. Was this the last bedroom?" Phinn asked, moving the conversation and search along.

Regina led them to the far corner guest room, which held the narrow stairs to the third floor. As she pointed out the mess, Phinn walked directly over to the closet, opened the door, and poked the clothes hanging inside. Satisfied, he backed out and declared it empty.

"No brother inside today."

"I-I'm sorry, what did you say?" Regina questioned.

"He means neither of the Mask Brothers is inside this time," Jake hurriedly supplied, causing a 'Who cares?' shrug from Phinn. He hadn't meant them. "Let's check the office."

Regina nodded at the suggestion, letting Jake walk up first. Once they entered, they found the room a complete mess. Papers strewn everywhere, file cabinets with locks broken, and several pieces of furniture moved as if they might have been hiding an item. Jake peered around to size up the damage while Phinn stood back.

"Anything missing?" the scrawny teen asked.

"I couldn't even begin to tell," Regina responded with bewilderment.

"How do you know the diary is missing?" Phinn challenged.

"We left it on this table. The people---I mean, we wanted it available for anyone in the family to read it," Regina caught herself.

"The family? Huh?" Phinn mused exaggeratedly.

Jake shot him a glare and a headshake.

"I wasn't aware that Cody Conway or Sophia Swann were related to the Tarrs," Phinn questioned aloud. "Because that's who you showed the diary to yesterday, wasn't it?"

"What? How could you... You saw them? How long were you spying on me?" Regina accused after turning to face Jake. The bitchy anger they'd come to know had returned to her face and overall attitude.

"What? No... well, kinda.... I didn't--"

"What did you offer our gullible competition, Miss Tarr? Certainly not your feminine charms. The Factfinders aren't tempted by the flesh. So I suppose you offered them praise and some sort of local honor. They might be wholesome, but Cody and Sophia do have one of the seven sins: pride."

"H-How dare you? I let you into our home for your investigation and--"

"You've let in more than us and The Factfinders. And don't act as if it wasn't for your benefit," Phinn declared knowingly. "One only wonders how many had the perceived honor of sharing a guest bed with you."

"Fuck off, you little shit! Somebody broke into my home. Maybe I should tell the police it was you two. What do you think of that?" Regina threatened, finally showing her true face to Jake.

"Ah, now I can see what Libby meant by calling you a soul-sucking succubus. Unfortunately for you, Jake has me and his sister looking out for him. His family has some money to drain, but he doesn't have access to it. Nor will I allow you to use our name for your own need for fame. Yes, I see through you quite easily, Regina," Phinn revealed.

"Really? You sure seemed like a lost virgin when I flirted with you," Regina smirked. The cackle didn't come as expected because Phinn interrupted first.

"Not a virgin here, but I am a much better actor than you."

"What?" Jake exclaimed, his attention finally finished ping-ponging back and forth.

"And don't start with the denials, Jake. You're not an actor. Your jealous peasant of a sister has better acting skills than you," Regina mocked.

"Listen up, lady," Phinn ordered with venom in his cold, calm voice. "Show me the camera footage of this burglar, or we're calling the cops ourselves. You already filed one false report the other day. Let's see how much the EPD will love using you as scapegoats for their embarrassing week."

"There is no footage," Regina declared.

"The hell there is!" Phinn said, turning to point at the tiny camera he noticed the other day. "Show us the footage, or I'll personally give Chief Norberg a tour of the mansion and point out all these short-term cameras. They aren't made for security purposes. These are spy cameras."

Some, not all, of the fight, left Regina after she was confronted with a list of the cameras that Phinn had noticed. Only after the brainy half of the agency mentioned the likelihood of a camera in the guest room she filled with Jake last night did Regina stomp downstairs to grab a tablet. Shocked and hurt by the possibility that he'd been recorded last night, Jake moped until he saw the tablet's screen.

"See? That man with the red ski mask came back today!" Regina pointed out.

While the camera pointed at the kitchen table rather than the back door, they saw the immediate aftermath of the home invasion. Then, they saw a ski mask-wearing man tear apart the family archive. Jake begrudgingly admitted that it looked like Floyd had returned to finish the job. However, Phinn disagreed.

"Floyd?" Regina questioned, having never heard the name.

"No, that's not the same Red Mask," Phinn declared, glaring at his partner. He didn't want Jake to reveal the Rattigans' involvement.

"But he looks the same. The mask is exactly the--" Jake argued.

"Precisely. Our latest intruder clearly knows about the previous break-in. Perhaps he witnessed it without being seen by us. Yet, look at his build. The real Red Mask is slim but has a more toned physique than this man. Also, Blue Mask is much too muscular to be this intruder. Here, we have a third person pretending to be one of the others. It's not the dumbest move," Phinn evaluated. "But we know the original Mask Brothers too well to be fooled."

"What the hell are you talking about? That's the same man from the other night!" Regina insisted.

"Show both videos to the police and see what they think. Oh, good luck trying to pass off these videos as security footage. They might believe you initially, but eventually, that angle will crumble. Also, I dare you to pin this on us, Miss Tarr. Do so, and I'll inform the cops what your brother has been up to," Phinn said. "And, yes, that was a threat."

Spinning on his heel, Phinn gestured to Jake, and they left Tarr Manor. Phinn held his head high while the betrayed Jake snapped out of his funk for several minutes. Then, he expressed his amazement.

"Holy shit! She really recorded us last night? Maybe I should go back inside and get it."

"Don't bother. The footage won't be something she wants found by the police. We can hold the unauthorized invasion of your privacy over her for now," Phinn stated, walking toward the car.

"Yeah, but..."

"I'm sure you came across well in the video, Jake," Phinn reassured his oldest friend.

"Yeah, I guess... Damn, right, I did!" Jake agreed, washing away the hurt feelings. "Hey, are we sure that wasn't a Rattigan in the video?"

"Of course. They've been following us since this morning. Not to mention, I spotted their car down the street waiting for a few hours until you got up. That wasn't one of them. Nor did it look like Jace. Regina seemed genuinely afraid about this burglary," Phinn explained. "I wonder if it's my assailant from Bentworth. That's a wildcard we still haven't locked down yet."

"Aw, man. This case is giving me a headache," Jake moaned, rubbing his temples. "Where to now?"

"Why, we're off to see the Wizard of Oz."

*********************************************************************************************

"Damn, this place is looking more rundown," Jake appraised.

He pulled his car off the old highway and into the Stop-N-Rest Motor Lodge parking lot, although the Motor portion of the name wasn't used any longer. Before the interstate highway system had been constructed, the old road was the main route along the coastline. The motel had once been a thriving business until the travel routes shifted. A two-story U-shaped building that overlooked its parking lot, the rooms were accessible from doors that opened from the outside. Once a popular stop for vacationing families and business travelers, the clientele now consisted of people seeking the cheapest option or a place to hold a secret rendezvous out of sight.

"Still, it's run by nice people who mean well," Phinn said, entirely out of character for him.

"You're the one who always complains about the Deasons caring far too much about their guests' privacy," Jake pointed out.

"True. Anita has caused us some strife in the past, including my efforts this morning while calling around to find Cozart. However, we have our secret weapon to distract longtime Edgewater natives," Phinn countered, smiling.

"Dusty's not around to sweet-talk Mrs. Deason," Jake noted, suddenly having a bad idea about this visit.

"I know that, Champ!" Phinn agreed, jumping out of the car.

The scheming sleuth immediately headed toward the small section in the front of the hotel. From past visits, they knew it consisted of the front desk/office, a small room that provided a limited breakfast area in the morning, and living quarters for its owners beyond the front desk. Those same living quarters also opened onto the parking lot as Room 101.

The ringing bell attached to the glass door brought a woman in her late sixties out of the office. At once, she recognized Phinn with a glare before the bell rang again. This time, she peered past Phinn, and her face brightened.

"Well, if it isn't Marvin Magnum's son! Hello, Jake."

"Uh, hello, Mrs. Deason," Jake responded, taken aback by the warm greeting. Unlike Phinn, he'd forgotten the reception he'd received in the past from the motel owners.

"What brings you in today? It can't be for any fundraisers yet, can it? I wouldn't put it past Coach Turnbull. That man sure is cheap," the gray-haired woman chuckled until her gaze fell on the other teen. "I hope Pammy Glynn's son isn't dragging you into more nonsense again. This better not be about that treasure... Wait a minute. You're the persistent man who called here the other day. You can't lower your voice to fool me, Phineas."

"I'd never do something so low, Anita. Now, would I raise my voice to act like a girl when I called this morning? Perhaps," Phinn suggested, enjoying how her eyes narrowed when she recalled this morning's questioner.

"Hrumph. A regular chip of the old block, aren't you?" Anita remarked, sniffing loudly.

"Actually, we were nearby and spotted the cars in the parking lot. Jake couldn't pass up an opportunity to get some advice from old gridiron legends. Right, buddy?" Phinn prodded, kicking his partner's leg. The front desk hid the nudge.

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Deason and his friends still inspire the team," Jake quickly agreed.

"I'll be! Of course, you can stop in and talk to Deke and the boys. They love repeating stories about the glory days," Anita stated needlessly, her face brightening. "Maybe they'll lay off the hooch a little with a young buck like you around. Come on!"

"I'll wait out here, Jake. Football bores me," Phinn announced, causing his friend to shoot him a dirty look.

"Come on, come on," Mrs. Deason prodded, shooing Jake into the back room that usually offered breakfast. Currently, a poker game replaced breakfast. "Deke, look who dropped in to say hello."

"Well, I'll be!" the motel's co-owner exclaimed, showing he'd already had more than a few drinks. "You guys remember Jake Magnum, right?"

"How could we forget? Rudy nearly lost his touchdown record to his uncle," Gomer "Gabby" Gibson recalled, elbowing the poker player closest to him.

A regular gossipmonger around Edgewater, the boys hadn't been able to take advantage of his knowledge very often. As the owner and proprietor of a corner tavern, Gabby wasn't available much to underage teens. Still, they'd managed to bribe a few patrons over the years to solicit information from the easily led man.

"Good to see you again, son. How's your father and uncle?" Rudolph "Rocket" Kozak asked, standing to greet and shake the current defensive star. "I still think your uncle got a raw deal. He would've easily broken my record without that suspension."

"My dad agrees, but my mom says Uncle Morgan got what he deserved," Jake responded. Luckily for him, Phinn opted to stay in the small lobby. He didn't view Jake's uncle with starry eyes like his nephew did. "Are you in town for a visit, Mr. Kozak?"

"Please, call me Rocky," the local football legend directed, returning to his seat. "No, I moved back. Retirement in one of those damn communities didn't suit me. I'd rather see my old chums than deal with those damn idiots. It's like attending a new high school, where everyone worries about their popularity and which clique to join."

"I warned you," Deke reminded, laughing.

"Dad will be thrilled to hear you're back in town," Jake admitted. "You should stop by the bar sometime."

"Tell your pops that I plan to," Rocky responded.

"How's Moe?" Deke asked.

"Grandpa's still kicking," Jake revealed, causing most of the table to laugh. "He's having a blast at one of those retirement communities."

"Making book or running a backroom casino, I bet," Gabby predicted.

"Oh, man. I remember when Moe tried to bribe me not to set the record against Hilltop," Rocky recalled, shaking his head. "He wanted me to wait until the final regular season game."

"Everyone knew you'd score several touchdowns against Hilltop. They were terrible," Deke pointed out. "I bet Moe could've made a mint off the odds."

"This was right before they started that bullshit, kid," Gabby began. "Bunch of hypocrites paying for the best county athletes with scholarships to their Bible-thumping academy."

"Assholes cost North High several top players after we graduated," Deke muttered, slamming back the rest of his drink.

"That seemed to die out sometime after my dad and uncle played," Jake pointed out.

"Too many complaints by the good folk in their congregation," Gabby scoffed with a chuckle.

"I think they just couldn't compete with two public high schools. Still, they do pretty well in their lower-level division," Rocky noted.

"Fuck 'em," Deke cursed, pouring another drink. "They don't matter these days. Puffer Power is back."

"So you say," Rocky responded, winking at Jake.

The teen quickly realized the old men were trading insults they'd probably done fifty years ago. He mentioned that he hadn't seen these legends at their games much.

"Don't let them fool you, kid," Gabby began, leading forward almost conspiratorially. "Rocky and the rest can't imagine missing out on the fiftieth anniversary. It's all they talk about."

"No, it's not," the remaining man in the room finally spoke.

"Oh, so you're not planning a big promotion at your chain?" Gabby questioned. "I'm damn sure throwing a season-long bash at the bar."

"Yeah, Starr's will probably give away free hot dogs or Icees," Rocky chuckled.

Jake wasn't surprised to see Herman Starr not joining the laughter of his old teammates. A vain man, he'd been nicknamed "Hotdogger" during the Puffers' run of championship appearances roughly fifty years ago. Although the school only won a single state championship, they'd ruled the local conference for seven straight years and reached four state finals. A fact they liked to remind the Puffer era from Jake's dad and uncle's years, which didn't hold the same conference dominance, but won two state titles.

Herman, the son of a prominent businessman, had seemed to expect success to be handed to him. Instead, he'd taken over his father's gas station chain before slowly converting it over the decades into a convenience store chain. Seemingly bitter that bigger things never came to him, he hadn't taken kindly to Busybody, Inc. poking around his business and its employees a few times. He especially wasn't fond of anyone named Magnum for reasons that still mystified Jake.

"So, is this the year, Jake? Is your squad finally going to bring the trophy back where it rightfully belongs? It's been twenty-two years," Rocky inquired.

"I don't know. I think the Puffers had a better chance last year when they had a real quarterback. This Youngberry kid is too inexperienced," Deke commented.

"Don't count Danny out, Mr. Deason. He might be young and inexperienced, but I think he's going to surprise people," Jake defended the incoming junior.

"I don't care as long as you keep those damn Sea Wolves from winning. I hate those fuckers," Deke declared, slightly slurring his words.

"Odell, those Sea Wolf families are customers just like the Puffers," Herman pointed out.

"Not to me. I don't need to kiss their asses like you do, Hotdog. If they want to screw somebody besides their spouse, they can listen to me run down their fancy school," Deke stated.

Jake bit back a laugh. South High had been built almost fifty-five years ago, yet these old men still saw the rival high school as new.

"I wouldn't dismiss South High, Deke. I hear these new financial rules might allow some star players to start making endorsement deals while still in high school. The two who might be the most in-demand around Edgewater are Colt Crockett and Jamal Jette from South High," Herman pointed out.

"What the hell is that shit?" Gabby demanded. "What's wrong with helping a Puffer? Castro, Savard, Ridley, or Magnum are better men. Will you pick a Sea Wolf over them for Starr's?"

"I'm not saying that, Gomer!" Herman shot back. "However, Magnum's reputation will hurt him."

"Hurt him? The kid's got a ton of tackles, sacks, and TDs. He plays both ways, for God's sake," Gabby argued.

"I think Herm means Jake's other interest," Deke noted, staring down his old teammate. The word "sellout" lingered on his lips, but never came.

"Speaking of that, shouldn't you be worried about why the meddler is here, Odell? He's clearly here to cause trouble for one of your guests," Herman pointed out.

"Well, if he is, I bet it's for good reason," Rocky proclaimed, slapping his arm. "Right, son?"

Jake didn't need to answer as Mrs. Deason returned with an exasperated expression. The current linebacker/tight end recognized it as a result of dealing with Phinn. People often ended up with that expression.

"I'm sorry to end this chat, but Jake's friend is getting restless."

***********************************************************************************************

As soon as Mrs. Deason escorted Jake into the backroom, Phinn leaped into action. Leaning over the top of the front desk, the teen thanked the Deasons for never changing. He spotted the same type of oversized ledger book they'd used for decades as the registry. The only computer in the office had been around for probably twenty-five years, and Phinn didn't want to deal with the clunky desktop.

Opening the book to the saved page, Phinn didn't see Oswald Cozart's name. However, flipping back one page, he spotted the name. Interestingly enough, the so-called author had been in Edgewater somewhat longer than he'd claimed. Phinn quickly noted the room number before scanning the rooms near his. Then, flipping back to where the bookmark saved the current page, he checked to see if either of those rooms had been rented since.

Pleased, Phinn closed the book, stepping back just as Anita returned. Her eyes narrowed, almost as if sure that he'd done something. In her suspicion, she scanned the front desk before glancing inside the office at the computer.

"Don't think I'm not onto you, Phineas. I won't be fooled. Your mother may have..." the elderly woman trailed off before shaking her head at the memory. "Sit!"

Shrugging, Phinn took a seat on the old leather couch. He spent the next ten minutes, occasionally watching for anyone outside. At one point, he caught Garth Rattigan peering inside before backing off. Shortly afterward, he heard a loud sigh and met Anita's gaze.

"I know why you're here, and I won't allow any of our guests to be disturbed," Mrs. Deason warned.

"I know you know why I'm here, but do you know how I came to know?" Phinn challenged, confusing the motel owner. "We didn't need to stop inside here. Mr. Cozart already told his room number, but Jake wanted to hear some old football stories. You'd think he'd get enough of them around his dad."

"Don't try tricking me. We don't have any guests by that name here," Anita lied.

"Mrs. Deason, you wound me. Our ties to Cozart's treasure hunt are widely known. I see you like to watch Channel 5, and they've reported on how close we are to discovering its whereabouts," Phinn said, gesturing to the old television mounted in the corner. "Just don't trust that Stone Barrington."

"I don't trust you," Anita shot back, heading toward the rear.

She returned in a few minutes with Jake. His partner gave him a knowing look. Yet, Phinn merely winked while mouthing a plan name at Jake.

"Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Deason. We're going to head upstairs to Room 217 to conduct our business with your ghost guest," Phinn announced.

"Wait, I thought it was Room 219," Jake responded, halting after a few steps.

"No, it's 217," Phinn insisted.

"219! This is why I miss Dusty. You always mix things up," Jake argued.

"I do not!"

"Do so!"

"Aargh! For once, the brat is right. He's in Room 217," Anita corrected. "Now, get out of here."

Throwing his hands up, Jake admitted defeat. The teens held in laughs until they walked outside. Checking over his shoulder, Phinn started up the outdoor stairs lined with what looked like Astroturf.

"You're mean," Jake admonished.

"Me? Anita doesn't like me because of my mom," the scrawny teen countered. "Now block me in case Cozart's not in."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

With no reply to his knocks, Phinn produced his lockpick tools. Jake rolled his eyes until his whole head rolled. The move allowed him to check on their watcher.

"It's weird that Garth looks shocked that we're picking a lock. You'd think he'd know us better by now."

"He's not the brightest sibling," Phinn replied as the door opened. "Oh, hell!"

Jake realized the reason for the curse when he glanced inside. The room had definitely been searched. Noticing that Jake wasn't keen on going inside, Phinn yanked his arm.

"Like we can make it any worse."

"But what if Cozart comes back?"

"We'll be quick. Check that side of the room. I'll handle this end," Phinn directed. "Anita's going to be so disappointed in you."

"Me?" Jake questioned.

"Cozart's going to come back and find his room tossed. She knows we came up here. Put two and two together," Phinn pointed out.

"Dammit," Jake growled.

The pair of experienced searchers rapidly searched the dresser drawers, the desk, the nightstand, and the closet. There were plenty of papers, which Phinn placed aside to rifle through when they had more time. Or they could take pictures of them with their phone at the end of their search. The closet didn't contain much that interested them. Phinn did note the pair of mud-caked shoes. Pulling out his pocket flashlight, Phinn dropped down to look under the bed while Jake opened the bathroom door.

"Phinn!"

"You find something?" Phinn asked, popping his head up from the floor.

"You could say so."

Noting the funny tone, Phinn hopped up and made the short walk to the bathroom door. Slipping inside, he took one look.

"Motherfucker! There goes our answers," the bespectacled teen complained.

The bathtub contained a sprawled-out Oswald Cozart. One could pick the tell. However, the glassy-eyed gaze, the blood trickling out of his mouth, and the bullet hole in his chest all pointed to their mastermind's murder.