✔Secrets of Saltwater Bay

🐶Chapter 3

Murder appeared to be on almost everyone's mind that day.

After my boyfriend paid for our delightful breakfast, we walked back outside to where our bikes were chained. The morning commuters were already out and about, flooding streets.

Sunlight cast warmth against my bare, tan shoulders and face. Summer was coming to an end, sadly. The nights were already growing colder with each passing day, and before long we'd be breaking out our windbreakers and snow boots.

When we unchained our bicycles, I noticed Casper crouched down near his front tire. He had a puzzled look on his face.

"Something wrong?" I asked him.

"My tire's been punctured," he replied, beckoning me over to take a look.

Upon closer inspection, I realized he was right. There was a rather large slit in his front tire.

"I guess you must have rode over something sharp. Maybe a piece of glass?" I suggested as I inspected my own tires to ensure none were perforated. They were perfectly fine.

We ended up having to backtrack to Casper's house since he needed to patch it up and refill it with a bit of air. He must have hit a rough patch in the sidewalk or ran over something sharp on our way to the diner. I guess he didn't notice it then. As we ate, it must have lost air.

"This was intentional. Someone slashed my tire to prevent me from chasing after the truth," Casper said.

"Punctured tires happen. Nobody's trying to keep you away from the case. You're overreacting," I replied.

Casper grabbed my arm; lips pouting as he said, "Promise me one thing, don't tell my parents I'm looking into the bones found on the beach."

I raised a brow. "I wonder why they wouldn't want their only son to go hunting after a possible killer."

"I'm serious, Silas."

"So am I," I told him. "You know I worry when you get too involved in these cases. Your last one really upset me. You could have been stabbed for crying out loud!"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not."

When I was a kid, my father used to make up tall-tells, which I naively fell for, about the olive colored carriage house my boyfriend lived in. He claimed it was where monsters resided. To be fair, the exterior was rather spooky. It was the kind of house they displayed in horror films. Not even the decorative welcome mat helped make it appear friendlier.

Despite the home's ominous demeanor, the inside of their home was very inviting. The savory smell of scrumptious pancakes wafted through my nose the moment Casper unlocked the front door.

"Mom!" He called out. "Where's the air pump at? I have a flat tire. I need to patch it up."

Mrs. Coffey emerged from the kitchen, donned in a lavender cooking apron. Her dark hair was pinned up in a messy bun.

"I think your father last had it out in the garage," she said.

"It should be on the top shelf," Mr. Coffey added; his eyes never leaving the tablet he was holding.

Oddly enough, Casper didn't look anything like his dad, who admittedly was a bit rough around the edges. However, he was a kind, loving father. Coming out as gay to your family tended to be difficult, if not dangerous in some unfortunate circumstances. Casper's dad was one hundred percent supportive of his choices.

I couldn't say the same applied to my old man. That's just life, I suppose.

"Good morning, Silas. I just finished baking some pancakes. Would you care for a plate?" Mrs. Coffey offered.