Read Online Linda Lovely - Marley Clark 02 - No Wake Zone by Linda Lovely - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Lovely
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up. Interested?”
I smiled. “It’s my policy never to date a man prettier than
me. Besides, most hunks our age date babes, not boomers. You say he’s from
Ames? Wonder if Darlene knew him when she lived there.”
Our breakfasts arrived and we tucked into the impressive
stockpiles of fat and carbohydrates. “Tell me again about the history of that
old cabin on the Olsen estate.”
I figured the prompt would keep Ross yammering through
breakfast and beyond. When we were kids, his aversion to book learning earned
veiled threats from his mom. Hard to believe he now devoured any book, letter
or diary he could lay hands on—provided it dealt with the Iowa Great Lakes. He
loved recounting tales about Indian uprisings, robber barons and ghost stories.
His lips hitched up in a grin. “Boy oh boy, I’d love to have
that cabin as an annex to our museum.”
Like a Jim Carey disciple, Ross could instantly transform
his rubber-like face to reflect boyish glee, and he had Jerry Seinfeld’s gift
for timing. The one-two punch made his love of the lakes contagious.
“Clarice Hunter haunts that cabin. She drowned in 1928 when
the Miss Lively sank. Clarice’s beau saved himself, left her to drown. No one
knows exactly how she got trapped. The boat went down at a spot where the
lake’s one hundred feet deep. The wreck wasn’t recovered until scuba divers
happened on it by accident.” He waved a forkful of biscuit. “The day after she
sank, Clarice’s body floated into the bay near that cabin. Newspaper accounts
speculated her foot wedged under a seat, sentencing Clarice to a very
unpleasant death.”
“So why haunt that cabin?”
“She and her boyfriend rented it with two other couples.
She’s searching for the friends and lover who abandoned her.”
“I can see why she’d be a little crotchety. I won’t hold any
séance if I take a look inside.”
Ross reached for his wallet. “I know you said you’d buy, but
it’s my treat today.”
I pushed my clean plate across the tattered oil tablecloth
with a whimper of satisfaction. “I’m surprised May didn’t join us.”
“Mom seldom eats breakfast out. Claims she needs time to
read the obituaries and make sure her name’s not there. She starts a little
slower, but she should be raring to go by now.” Suddenly his smile evaporated.
“Don’t tell Mom that Sheriff Delaney thinks you’re a suspect. She’d have a coronary—or
he would after she cut out his tongue.”
SIX
Since May’s a tad hard of hearing, Ross rang the buzzer
repeatedly before opening the door with a spare key wedged under a
flowerpot—traditional Iowa security.
“Come in, come in.” May’s disembodied voice floated from her
boudoir. “Just got out of the shower. Won’t be long—no sense gilding the lily.”
Ross wheeled my suitcase inside. “Want it in the guest
bedroom?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
He lifted the suitcase onto a cedar chest and headed back to
the living room. “Think I’ll read the sports section. Didn’t have a chance
earlier.”
Goosebumps sashayed up my arms. May cranked her
air-conditioning to sub-zero. Weren’t older ladies supposed to like heat?
Unzipping my tote bag to grab a cardigan, I spied Steve Watson’s package. Ross
would get a kick out of a little show-and-tell.
Steve, an old Army buddy, runs a “Defend-U” Internet
business. While he doesn’t sell machineguns, hand grenades or other weapons of
mass destruction, he provides everything from bear repellent to Klingon
“fantasy” weapons for people fearing terrorists, aliens, wild hogs or Goth
teens. He relies on me and other retired vets to field test his gadgets.
I walked to the living room and dumped my beta testers at
Ross’s feet. “Want to see my newest toys?”
My cousin peeked over his newspaper. “A cell phone? Thought
you were as rabid about them as I am about jet skis.”
I laughed. “These are gadgets from my friend with the
Internet store. The cell phone’s a disguised
I smiled. “It’s my policy never to date a man prettier than
me. Besides, most hunks our age date babes, not boomers. You say he’s from
Ames? Wonder if Darlene knew him when she lived there.”
Our breakfasts arrived and we tucked into the impressive
stockpiles of fat and carbohydrates. “Tell me again about the history of that
old cabin on the Olsen estate.”
I figured the prompt would keep Ross yammering through
breakfast and beyond. When we were kids, his aversion to book learning earned
veiled threats from his mom. Hard to believe he now devoured any book, letter
or diary he could lay hands on—provided it dealt with the Iowa Great Lakes. He
loved recounting tales about Indian uprisings, robber barons and ghost stories.
His lips hitched up in a grin. “Boy oh boy, I’d love to have
that cabin as an annex to our museum.”
Like a Jim Carey disciple, Ross could instantly transform
his rubber-like face to reflect boyish glee, and he had Jerry Seinfeld’s gift
for timing. The one-two punch made his love of the lakes contagious.
“Clarice Hunter haunts that cabin. She drowned in 1928 when
the Miss Lively sank. Clarice’s beau saved himself, left her to drown. No one
knows exactly how she got trapped. The boat went down at a spot where the
lake’s one hundred feet deep. The wreck wasn’t recovered until scuba divers
happened on it by accident.” He waved a forkful of biscuit. “The day after she
sank, Clarice’s body floated into the bay near that cabin. Newspaper accounts
speculated her foot wedged under a seat, sentencing Clarice to a very
unpleasant death.”
“So why haunt that cabin?”
“She and her boyfriend rented it with two other couples.
She’s searching for the friends and lover who abandoned her.”
“I can see why she’d be a little crotchety. I won’t hold any
séance if I take a look inside.”
Ross reached for his wallet. “I know you said you’d buy, but
it’s my treat today.”
I pushed my clean plate across the tattered oil tablecloth
with a whimper of satisfaction. “I’m surprised May didn’t join us.”
“Mom seldom eats breakfast out. Claims she needs time to
read the obituaries and make sure her name’s not there. She starts a little
slower, but she should be raring to go by now.” Suddenly his smile evaporated.
“Don’t tell Mom that Sheriff Delaney thinks you’re a suspect. She’d have a coronary—or
he would after she cut out his tongue.”
SIX
Since May’s a tad hard of hearing, Ross rang the buzzer
repeatedly before opening the door with a spare key wedged under a
flowerpot—traditional Iowa security.
“Come in, come in.” May’s disembodied voice floated from her
boudoir. “Just got out of the shower. Won’t be long—no sense gilding the lily.”
Ross wheeled my suitcase inside. “Want it in the guest
bedroom?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
He lifted the suitcase onto a cedar chest and headed back to
the living room. “Think I’ll read the sports section. Didn’t have a chance
earlier.”
Goosebumps sashayed up my arms. May cranked her
air-conditioning to sub-zero. Weren’t older ladies supposed to like heat?
Unzipping my tote bag to grab a cardigan, I spied Steve Watson’s package. Ross
would get a kick out of a little show-and-tell.
Steve, an old Army buddy, runs a “Defend-U” Internet
business. While he doesn’t sell machineguns, hand grenades or other weapons of
mass destruction, he provides everything from bear repellent to Klingon
“fantasy” weapons for people fearing terrorists, aliens, wild hogs or Goth
teens. He relies on me and other retired vets to field test his gadgets.
I walked to the living room and dumped my beta testers at
Ross’s feet. “Want to see my newest toys?”
My cousin peeked over his newspaper. “A cell phone? Thought
you were as rabid about them as I am about jet skis.”
I laughed. “These are gadgets from my friend with the
Internet store. The cell phone’s a disguised
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