Berried to the Hilt Read Online Free

able to say I rigged the contest.”
    “You’d do that for me?”
    “Absolutely,” I said. “I’ll just put up a little sign explaining that you’re taste-testing for the bake-off, and that you’d love their opinions.”
    “Oh, Natalie, that’s wonderful! I’m baking you a batch of my banana bread when I get home,” she said.
    “That would be lovely,” I said, taking the heavy tray from her, “but why don’t you wait until after the bake-off!”
    “Do you think?” she asked.
    “I insist,” I said. My stomach gurgled as I breathed in the sweet aroma of Emmeline’s creations. The streusel cake looked particularly appealing. I hadn’t eaten for hours … would it hurt if I took one little bite?
    “I’ll drop by tomorrow to pick up the results,” she said, reaching out to squeeze my arm.
    “Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?” I asked.
    “No, no … wouldn’t want anyone to accuse us of impropriety,” she said, and I was relieved to see the familiar twinkle back in her eyes.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said, and carried the tray into the inn, pleased with my ingenuity.
    _____
    The first set of archaeologists arrived at the kitchen door, surprising me. Most of my guests arrived at the front door, not the back. There were two of them: a tall, lean man with graying hair and a worried look, and a younger, cheerful-looking woman with curly, bright red hair and freckles. Both wore jeans and windbreakers; as the woman put her hand up to shade her eyes, the sunlight flashed off the face of her huge, utilitarian looking watch. She clearly didn’t go in for delicate accessories, I thought.
    “Welcome!” I said, opening the door to them. “I see you found the mooring lines!”
    “Saved us the long walk from the pier,” said the younger archaeologist. “Plus the fees to the harbormaster. I’m Molly O’Cleary,” she said, extending a hand. “And this is my colleague Carl Morgenstern,” she said, nodding her head toward her partner. “We’ve got a reservation. At least I hope we do, or we’ll be sleeping in the wheelhouse!”
    “Not to worry,” I said. “I’ve reserved two rooms for you. Please come in.”
    They followed me through the kitchen into the dining room. As we passed Emmeline’s tray, Molly lingered for a moment. “Looks delicious,” she said. “I’m starving.”
    “You’re welcome to some,” I said.
    “Let’s get checked in first,” said Carl. “Then you can gorge.”
    “It’s fuel for all our hard work,” she said, snagging a piece of cake and following me to the front desk.
    They didn’t have much to carry; each of them had a small suitcase, and it didn’t take long to check in and put their bags in their rooms. Emmeline’s samples enticed them to linger in the dining room when they came back down, and I served them coffee as they helped themselves from the tray.
    “What is this?” Molly asked as she took a bite of Emmeline’s steamed pudding.
    I told her, and explained the theory behind the tray of goodies—and my role in the contest. “If you have a favorite,” I told them, “don’t tell me; write a note to Emmeline.” I pointed to the mason jar and the stack of index cards I’d set up for comments.
    “A woman with morals,” Carl said. “I like that.”
    “So,” I said. “You’re here to investigate the shipwreck?”
    Carl glanced at Molly, and I saw something pass between them before he answered. “That’s why we’re here,” he said.
    “You’re not the only ones,” I said.
    Carl looked startled. “We’re not?”
    “I’ve got another couple of archaeologists coming in today.”
    “Oh, really?” Carl spoke, but both seemed suddenly wary. “Who?”
    “They’re with a company called Iliad,” I said.
    Molly sighed and shook her head. “They’re not really archaeologists, I’m afraid. They’re treasure hunters.”
    “Do you know who called them?” Carl asked.
    I shrugged. “All I know is that they booked three