Free Feta Attraction by Susannah Hardy

uncomfortable, and I hadn’t even done anything to deserve it. Except almost kiss somebody, and that didn’t count.
    I passed through the hallway and into my office. There was the white envelope glaring up at me. I decided to avoid it for now by listening to the answering machine, which was flashing red. A couple of people had called in for reservations and the ghost hunters were asking when they could meet with me to film the “reveal” of their findings. I called them back first and told them to come in anytime. I’d pull the pocket doors on one of the dining rooms and they could do the filming there without being too disruptive to business in the other two rooms. Although, now that I considered it, the customers would flock in if they knew that a television show was being filmed only a few yards away. Well, after the filming, I’d open the doors so everybody could get a peek at the cast and crew.
    I booted up my laptop and opened my e-mail. No surprises here, thank goodness, just the promised note from Cal saying that today was her day off and she was going boating with Sakis, the boy she’d been seeing, and then going back to his family’s home for dinner. I sent her back a quick reply again telling her to be careful and that I hoped she’d had fun, since with the time delay her day’s activities had already happened.
    I pulled up Sophie’s bank account information on the screen, and printed it off. Sophie had given me access to the accounts when Spiro proved to have no aptitude for monitoring them. I reviewed the statement again. Yes, twenty-three thousand dollars had been withdrawn from Spiro and Sophie’s joint money market account late last week.
    I steeled myself and opened the white envelope. Inside was a sheet of the same yellowed paper with the blocky letters. What was it with this guy? Or girl, I amended, just to be PC. One e-mail or one letter would have been sufficient.
    I STILL HAVE HIM. FIND IT AND BRING IT TOMOROW NITE TO THE DEVIL’S OVEN. PUT IT IN THE BASKIT HANGING INSIDE THE DOOR. COME ALONE. DON’T TELL ANYONE OR I WILL KILL HIM.
    My stomach clenched. Kill him? Suddenly, my theory that this was a joke seemed naïve and stupid. And what was “it”? If he, whoever he was, had Spiro, then he must have the money already, so it couldn’t be that. And the writer of these notes had never actually said he was holding Spiro, as opposed to someone else. The only other thing I could think of was the so-called treasure that Spiro had supposedly found. How the hell was I supposed to bring it when I didn’t even know what it was, not to mention where? And I didn’t have a boat, so how would I get to an island out in the middle of the river if I couldn’t tell anybody? The Bay was no longer insulated from murder—Big Dom had been killed just a couple of days ago. A lump of panic rose up and choked me. Could there be a connection?
    I looked through the piles one more time and found the card after a minute or two. Underneath a raised seal, “Jack Conway, Cpt” was embossed in blue letters. “United States Coast Guard” and a phone number completed the information. Looked legitimate enough. But according to Keith, the Coast Guard wouldn’t have any reason or jurisdiction to be investigating Big Dom. Now that I thought about it, the guy hadn’t been wearing a uniform, either. Anybody could get business cards printed up, or make them at home on the computer. I fingered the edge of the card and thought.
    The intercom buzzed. It was Sophie. “Those ghost guys are here.”
    I took another deep breath. “I’m on my way.”
    I led the crew in through the kitchen door. They followed me with their sound equipment, some large portable lighting fixtures, and several cameras. I directed them to the front dining room, which was empty because we’d seated all the customers in the other two rooms. I