Read Online A Crossword to Die For by Nero Blanc - Free Book Online

pictured her father as a yacht owner, either.
    A teenaged attendant in khaki shorts and a blue polo shirt emblazoned with white scroll letters announcing The Anchorage was busy sweeping a single fallen geranium leaf into a pristine metal canister. When Belle asked directions to the marina, he looked at her as if she’d lost her marbles.
    â€œYou mean, by the water?” he asked.
    Belle didn’t retort that marinas—given the origin of the appellation—were always on the water. After all, she was the one who’d asked the stupid question. She hurried down the walkway toward the shore.
    But there, as Big Jim Case had suggested, a sea of large—and larger—boats greeted her: hundreds upon hundreds, so it seemed. Where Wooden Shoe floated among them, Belle didn’t have a clue.
    She found the marina office, where another remarkably easygoing and unrepentantly male greeted her. “Hey there, young lady.”
    â€œI’m looking for Wooden Shoe —”
    â€œWoody’s boat?”
    â€œMmmm.” Belle nodded.
    â€œYou just missed him, pretty lady. Sorry to say.”
    Belle pasted on what she imagined resembled a disappointed but hopeful smile. “I’ll be on the island another day or two, so I can stop by—”
    â€œOh, you won’t find him coming back by then … When ole Woody heads out, he’s gone a couple of weeks or more … sometimes upward of a month or two. The man’s what they call a free spirit—”
    â€œWas his friend Ted usually on those trips?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œTed Graham … Theodore Graham … Did he ordinarily accompany Woody—”
    â€œYou mean, ship out with him?”
    Belle nodded again.
    â€œWith Woody?”
    Belle felt as though she’d been trapped in an endless game of twenty questions. “That’s right.”
    â€œI never heard of anyone named Ted Graham … But I’ll tell you right now, Woody never takes anyone on that boat of his. Oh, an occasional fishing buddy for a day, but never for an extended stay … Like I said, he’s a free spirit … Goes where the breezes flow.”
    Belle considered the information. “You wouldn’t happen to know his full name, would you?”
    The man studied her, his expression suddenly less friendly. “Sure I do,” he answered, although the information wasn’t forthcoming.
    â€œI guess I should fess up,” Belle admitted. “Woody and my dad are old friends … army buddies, in fact … if it is the same Woody … Ted Graham was … is another pal … Anyway, since I was passing through Sanibel, I thought I should say ‘Hi.’ Dad would be furious if I didn’t … In fact … in fact, he gave me some personal papers to pass along should I happen to run into him …” Even as she spun out the story, she realized it had a major hole. If she knew the name of the boat, why wouldn’t she also know the true identity of its owner? Belle’s smile grew brighter and broader in the hopes her interrogator wouldn’t notice the flaws. And she was in luck.
    â€œHorace Llewellen, of course. Least that’s what’s printed on the Hatteras’s Coast Guard documentation. But I’ll betcha he doesn’t let your dad or this Ted Graham character ever call him Horace.”
    Belle grinned. “I guess not … So, you’ll tell Woody I was asking for him?”
    â€œWhen—and if—I see him.”
    â€œWhen you see him, of course … Nothing urgent … But I do want to pass along the information from my dad.” Belle produced a business card from her purse. “He can contact me here.”
    The man took the card, peered at it, and cocked his head to one side. “Crossword puzzle editor, huh?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œIn Massachusetts …”
    â€œYup.” Belle felt her smile muscles