Read Online Gnarly New Year (Corsario Cove Cozy Mystery #2) by Anna Celeste Burke - Free Book Online

if on cue that voice picked up where it left off.
    “This is not a test. Fire! Repeat, this is not a test. Fire! Please exit the building.”
    The screeching alarms resumed. Mitchum and I were already on our feet when Brien dashed back out to the veranda.
    “I don’t see any fire in our suite or smell smoke, but I think we should get out of here. Can you handle some stairs, Mick?”
    “Sure,” as he said that he struggled to stand. He probably would have been okay except that the tie around his waist holding that robe closed had come loose. One end was tangled in the chaise lounge, and he almost toppled over when it gave way after yanking it.
    Brien and Mitchum each grabbed an arm to steady Mick, and then almost picked him up as we all scurried out the door of our suite. The hallway was teeming with guests streaming toward the exit and down the stairs. Someone had already propped the door open. I led the way, down six flights of stairs, and out a door that exited into a courtyard.
    “We should have grabbed a pair of shades for Mick,” I whispered to Brien. A few people were glancing his way. No one seemed too interested. I found that reassuring. When those alarms started, I had flashed on the possibility that someone might be trying to flush Mick out. That’s presuming his kidnappers had figured out he had fled to the resort when he reached dry land this morning, and found his way to our suite. Not a great thing for Brien and me, either, if that's what was going on. Mitchum’s latest warning had me feeling paranoid.
    “Here! Put these on. I want them back when I leave,” Mitchum said, as he passed a pair of sunglasses to Mick. Mitchum stepped aside for a moment. He spoke to a woman dressed in hotel front desk garb, holding a tablet device. Taking attendance, and making sure everyone was accounted for was my guess. In less than a minute he was back.
    “Follow me.” Mitchum strode off toward an exit that led out of the courtyard and into one of the arched corridors that gave the Sanctuary a monastic ambiance. Most monasteries aren’t crawling with Santas, however, like this one. As we left the courtyard, a Santa entered carrying a large, black bag. He began shouting “Season’s Greetings” and “Happy New Year” as he tossed fake doubloons to the kids in the crowd. Santa's cries posed an odd contrast to the voice still issuing warnings, more muted now that the fire exit doors were no longer being held open by fleeing guests. Santa set that bag down and began doling out small, gift-wrapped packages. Trying to steady nerves or make amends for the inconvenience, perhaps.
    “Do you see smoke or smell it?”
    “No, I don’t, Brien, do you?”
    “Nope! Must be a false alarm.”
    “That’s odd, don't you think?” I asked just as Mitchum turned left onto a paved pathway that led to a smaller garden area situated between hotel buildings.
    “Sit!” he commanded. We all did as we were told and sat on benches surrounding a fountain that was the centerpiece of this garden area. Blooms hung from a wrought iron trellis above us. Purple blossoms on climbing plants—Clematis, maybe.
    “Tell me about the van and the boat.” Back to business, despite the barely controlled chaos underway at the moment. I had heard sirens as we dashed down those stairs. Escaping from the hotel into that enclosed courtyard, I hadn’t seen any members of the local fire brigade. No police, either, besides our brusque, fidgety detective. The alarms were no longer sounding warnings, but shouted commands reached us.
    Mick did his best to recall what he could about both the van and the boat. Nothing he said seemed of much value, as far as I could tell. What did Mitchum expect? It was dark when they had dragged Mick to that van in the alley behind Corsario’s Hideaway. Knocked out after that, he had no idea where or when they boarded that boat.
    Days later, when Mick made that desperate escape at the crack of dawn, it was still dark outside