Better Than Gold. Mary Brady

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Better Than Gold - Mary Brady Mills & Boon Superromance

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gave a sharp laugh. “I have no idea. The other side of the story is the girl’s father started the rumor that all Bailey wanted was her substantial inheritance, and what really happened was the man had Bailey killed. It isn’t much of a leap to get from that to Liam Bailey being entombed in the wall of the hotel he built as part of the settlement’s initial push to become a town. Ironic.”

      She held up her coffee cup in a sweeping motion and continued. “As you can see, Bailey’s Cove hasn’t grown too terribly much since that time, so we can’t blame the world for ignoring us.”

      He poured more coffee. “And the treasure?”

      “Ah, the treasure. It’s custom here in Bailey’s Cove, like prayers before a meal or removing your hat before entering someone’s home. You don’t tell outsiders about Liam Bailey and especially not his treasure.”

      He gave her an honest and open look of interest.

      “The chief said he knew that when the university showed up, tongues would start flapping. Well, he actually used the term ‘troublesome gossip.’ That your arrival would give folks ideas about digging for treasure...again, and that didn’t turn out so well for the town last time.”

      “So if the pirate buried his treasure and then was killed before he could dig it up...”

      “Bingo. Until now, it was just a body in the wall. Chief Montcalm asked me not to talk to anyone about it, which I didn’t, well, mostly I didn’t. He made my workers quake in their boots, so I’m sure they only told a couple dozen people what they saw.” Something about this man made her want to spill her guts, to bare all. Oh, for pity’s sake. “Since the place hasn’t been raided, I believe official word has not leaked out from the chief’s department. The chief’s people say the bones are old. Will you be able to tell how old the remains are with carbon dating?”

      “Without a doubt.”

      “Oh, wow. That might be very helpful.”

      “I’ll be able to tell the age of the body to within a couple hundred years.” He shot a disarming grin at her and some unseen barrier between them seemed to fall away. “Carbon dating so touted in the media is much more accurate when dating eras—when it’s confined to thousands of years. Some archeologists believe it’s been fine-tuned to be able to pinpoint up to within a few hundred years, but it’s always under scrutiny. Telling how old a person was at the time of death is relatively easy nowadays, but the decade or even the century gets dicier. Though finding pirate’s treasure might help.”

      “Oh, please, don’t. Please, don’t.” She was absolutely sure she didn’t want to hear his answer, but she had to ask the next logical question. “If you suspect this is Liam Bailey, will you bring in a team of people?”

      “I could, but usually the more people, the more time spent processing a site, and more confusion.”

      “So you might still be able to get what you need and leave today?”

      “The more I hear about Bailey, the more complicated this investigation is getting.”

      Mia blew out a breath. “Of course it is.”

      She might have to gag that angel on her shoulder.

      * * *

      WHEN DANIEL GLANCED at the woman beside him on the bench, she looked deflated, as if she were tired of shouldering the bravado necessary to keep a project this size on schedule.

      “Was it something I said?” he asked quietly.

      “Yes, it was.” Her light blue eyes reflected the morning sky and for an instant he thought he might be able to gaze into them over a cup of coffee or even a glass of wine. Something he never thought he’d do again—stare into a woman’s eyes.

      He quickly changed his thoughts. “I think I said something like, the more I hear, the more complicated this whole investigation is getting.”

      “That’s the gist.”

      “Wouldn’t finding out a pirate was buried here be beneficial for the town, a tourist attraction?”

      “Yeeees,” she drew out the word. “The town needs the monetary boost tourists will bring. Skeletons were not part of the timeline for—well—for profitability.”

      He watched her closely, trying to figure out if there was something else behind her words. On the surface they seemed self-serving, but there was also an almost bleak tone to her voice, which made him suspect there was much more. “Earlier, you mentioned a dining room. A restaurant?”

      “That’s my goal.”

      “Are you a chef?”

      “Oh, no. Creating food takes more imagination and certainly more skill than I have. I’m a businesswoman. Can’t you tell?” She gestured to her demolition attire. “Hotel and restaurant management.”

      “Does the place have a name?”

      She gave a soft snort. “I chose it before all this got started and now I’m a bit mortified. I thought I’d be clever and call it Pirate’s Roost.”

      Her smile, though embarrassed, shined bright like the sun off the water. It was clear to see she was proud of what she was doing here, had great hopes for success.

      “So a pirate in your wall would complicate things?”

      She brushed the toe of her shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk. “I’m on a tight timeline. There have already been so many delays, and if the Roost is not finished in time to draw tourists this season it will be hard to keep things going over the winter. Plus things can get a little sketchy around here when the hopes of treasure stirs things up.”

      “So if I got out of the way, the Pirate’s Roost might have a chance to stay on schedule.”

      “It would help a lot.”

      “I’ll check out the crypt. I might only need a few days with the site, a week at the most.” She might have masked a gasp with a cough, but he wasn’t sure. “I’ll need to get the contents of the boxes examined to see what the remains can tell me.”

      He sat back and watched the goings-on in the harbor. Sometimes gathering information on a site meant letting the indigenous population say what they needed to say. He let silence ask the next question.

      “I really need to get the demo and remodeling finished as soon as possible.”

      He nodded.

      A dingy bounced against the hull of one of the fishing boats as someone on board worked to secure it to the side of the boat.

      “In a way,” she continued, “the town’s survival depends on getting the village brought up to the twenty-first century. This is, we hope, the first of many projects.”

      “And if this turns out to be a pirate who hid a treasure?” He glanced at her. “Will the whole town turn up?”

      She leaned her chin in the palms of her hands. The sun glistened golden in her hair and the wind blew the loose curling

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