With a yell and a scrabbling kick, Jim wiggled the rest of his body onto the deck and was crawling after the pistol. He caught up to the weapon just as it came to rest on the edge of the wooden deck. His hand found the pistol grip and he began to get to his knees just as a mighty blow landed across his shoulders.
The pistol flew out of his hands, hit the side of the runabout and splashed into the water. Jim collapsed on his stomach, thought fast and rolled to his right. A canoe paddle crashed into the deck where his head had laid just a microsecond ago. He kicked his right leg out at the surprisingly quick Cole Prescott catching him in only a glancing blow.
Eve surfaced next to the Chris-Craft and spotted Cole limping away from her. Quietly she climbed out of the water. Suddenly she saw her husband vault out of the water behind the monster and bring the man down. Jim quickly got to his hands and knees and crawled after the pistol now skidding to the edge of the deck. Her heart sank as she watched Cole grab a canoe paddle and smash it down on Jim’s back. Jim grunted in pain and rolled at the same time. Cole smashed the paddle down on the dock in what surely would have been a killing blow. Panicked, Eve searched for a weapon. Jim grabbed at the canoe paddle, his hands slipping off the slick surface as Cole pulled the paddle back.
Several fishing poles lay against the wall. One had a big red and white spoon with a large treble hook at the end. The lure was held to the reel by one of the three hooks. Picking the rod up she loosed the hook, wrapped her finger around the line and opened the bail on the reel.
Then, Eve reared back and cast the lure at Cole’s shoulders. She missed high and left, the spoon sailed past Cole’s left ear.
Cole heard more than saw the red and white fishing lure flash past his ear. The line stretched tight as Eve closed the bail and the spoon’s forward momentum stopped. For the briefest moment the lure hung motionless. As one part of his brain prepared to smash the oar down on Jim another wondered at a fishing lure materializing from nothingness just three feet in-front of his face.
The lure snapped back, hit his chest and lay there. It was only an instant. Eve gave a loud yell, turned around, and with the fishing pole gripped firmly in both hands, began to run. The lure was yanked upward, driving the hooks into his flesh with a searing pain, the line tight over his shoulder. Cole screamed as the hooks tore up and into his chest, the force pulling him upward off his feet and backward. He landed flat on his back, the hooks still digging, the force unrelenting, his body being pulled away from Jim as Eve continued trying to run. His skin ripped but didn’t release the hooks. The pain seared into his brain.
His scream was truly blood curdling, combining intense pain with the ultimate surprise. Frantically Cole’s fingers dug at the lure, but it was no use. The barbs and the tension on the line kept him from pulling the hooks out. His chest erupted in pain, blood quickly soaked his shirt. In a Herculean effort, he struggled to his feet. Cole wrapped one hand around the line and began pulling, trying to release the tension on the hooks ripping at his chest muscles. With his other hand, he groped for the pistol.
Suddenly the edge of a canoe paddle crashed into his good leg. More pain exploded in his overwhelmed brain. Cole screamed and collapsed on the deck, his hands not knowing whether they should grip his injured knees or the searing pain in his chest.
Eve’s primordial screaming added to the terror. Again, the hooks ripped upward. Then, somewhere at the edge of his consciousness he heard, “Eve, Eve! Stop…stop, it’s done. We got him.” Jim was yelling over the screams of the madman.
Eve stopped and turned to see Jim standing over Cole, the canoe paddle gripped like a baseball bat.
“You got him?” she called.
“I got him hon. Good job, that was a hellofa cast.” Jim grinned at her.
“I can let go of this fishing pole?” Eve asked as she angrily snapped the pole back with one more good pull.
Cole let out another scream.
“Yes! You can drop the pole,” Jim grinned.
Eve threw the pole in the water, leaving a bit of tension on the line and eliciting another scream. She stood next to Jim and looked down at the bloody shirt and screaming man at her feet. Without warning she bent over and slapped Cole across the face. “That’s for Sherrie and Gerry.”
Chapter 57
Jim carried a large vase and a plastic water jug. Next to him, Eve held an equally large bundle of flowers. Gerry had been flown by helicopter to the University of Michigan Hospital after being stabilized in Traverse City.
They stepped out of the elevator and headed for the nurses station. Moments later a nurse was escorting them into intensive care and they were standing at the foot of Gerry’s bed. Gerry snored peacefully while monitors and gauges silently reported his health for all to see. Next to Gerry’s bed a second hospital bed had been rolled into the room and Sherrie lay sleeping.
Eve leaned toward Jim. “They’re both asleep. We’d better just put these in water and go.”
“We can wake Sherrie up,” Jim whispered.
“No, we can’t. Now come on, let’s go,” Eve murmured.
“She’d do it to me,” Jim complained.
“Jim!”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“I can hear you two you know,” Sherrie said in a loud whisper. Then she grinned and opened her eyes. “You’re right dear brother, I would!”
Eve rushed to her and wrapped her arms around Sherrie’s neck. Jim picked her hand up and gave it a squeeze. “How ya doin’ sis?” he asked.
Sherrie gave a full report covering everything the doctors had told her that morning. “I’m going to be fine. I’ll have a little scar where the wood stuck me. And the doctors said I suffered a concussion, but given time I’ll be alright. I don’t have many symptoms, just some dizziness and headaches. The usual things associated with a concussion. In a couple of days they said they’ll release me. They said the headaches will go away after a few weeks.”
Eve grew somber. “Tell us about Gerry.” Sherrie’s eyes misted over and Jim squeezed his sister’s hand. “They said he’s suffered severe traumatic brain injury. They did an MRI on him every three hours last night. The doctor said they’re worried about blood clots. He’s on blood thinners now and they think he’s out of the woods, but they want to keep monitoring him.” Sherrie began to cry. Jim hugged her and Eve put her hand on her shoulder.
“They said he’s going to have a long recovery. Maybe a year or more,” Sherrie whispered. “He’s going to have a lot of mood swings and some memory and speech issues. I’m not really sure what that means, but…”
Eve interrupted. “We saw it in the military Sherrie. It means he’ll struggle to put thoughts to words, forget what he was going to say, where he parked the car, that sort of thing. Sometimes more important things, his name, address, your name. But he’s still there, never, ever, forget that he’s still there.”
Jim put his hand on Sherrie’s shoulder. “He may get angry over meaningless things. Our friend, Ryan, found himself pounding his mailbox with a big rock because he didn’t get a magazine. Over time it should get better. Your love will be a big help, he’ll need every bit of it you have.” Sherrie wrapped her arms around her brother and sobbed.
Chapter 58
The last of the morning clouds had burned away and spectators slowly took their seats. Several young boys ran through the crowd supplying towels to those who asked, and many did. Half of the folding lawn chairs were in shadow and still had a coating of dew. Elaine took a towel from a young boy, handed him a blue, angle fish dollar in return, and began to wipe her seat. Esso Cricket Club had led 124 for three when play had ended the previous evening. Now, the boys from the Paramount Cricket Club were preparing for their inning.
She didn’t really care for cricket, didn’t understand the rules nor the scoring, but the man she’d spent the last few days with was nuts for the silly game. She checked her watch. At ten she would make her excuses and leave.
Several men stood near the three
sticks. Another man bounced a ball as fast as he could at the goalie while another swung his bat like a golf club. After what felt like days Elaine had decided this game didn’t make sense and had given up trying to understand.
A large jet airliner swooped overhead. The plane was landing at the only airport on the island located just a few hundred yards away. The noise was deafening, Elaine held her hands to her ears and cringed. No one else seemed to notice. When her hearing returned she checked her watch and decided the time was close enough. She leaned over to John, or Brian, or whatever his name was, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.
“Bring me a Caybrew, would ya luv,” John or Brian said with barely a glance. Elaine smiled, grabbed her purse and walked to the clubhouse.
Minutes later Elaine stepped from her taxi and entered the Cayman National Bank. A young woman greeted her with a friendly “Hullo” and Elaine stepped to her window. Elaine explained her intent to withdraw a significant amount of money and presented her account card. The girl noted the amount and went to find her supervisor. This would only take a few moments, would Elaine please take a seat. Elaine did as suggested. Several minutes passed.
Soon a darkly tanned woman in her late fifties approached, introduced herself as Ms. Jane Wilcox and asked Elaine if they could speak in private. Elaine followed Ms. Wilcox to an inner office and was invited to take a seat. Elaine did as she was told, an uneasy feeling beginning to creep up her back.
Wilcox stood behind her desk. After a moments hesitation she said “Ms. Prestcott, I’m sure there must be some confusion. We cannot honor your withdrawal request.”
Elaine paled. “I’m sorry? Why not?”
“Well, Ms. Prestcott, your current balance is substantially less than two hundred thousand. I’m sure you’ve made a simple mistake in….”
“WHAT? NO! I’ve not made a mistake. I’m making a withdrawal of two hundred thousand dollars. There’s exactly five million five hundred thousand five hundred and fifty five dollars in that account!”
“Ms. Prestcott, there is no mistake. Your account balance was…”
Elaine’s voice was loud, bordering on hysteria, “I know what my balance is!”
“Again, I’m sorry, but if you’ll indulge me a moment.” Ms. Wilcox sorted through several sheets of paper. “See here, your account co-holder, a Mr. David McFain, withdrew all but five hundred fifty five dollars and fifty five cents; an odd amount I’m sure, on Friday last.”
Elaine took the proffered paper. She examined the document carefully. She remembered signing it. She had to sign it, it allowed David to deposit money in her account. She studied the paper carefully. Indeed, allowed him to make deposits.
She flipped the page and began to read. Her hands began to shake. She didn’t remember this page. It was a two page document, not three. She continued to read. He could make deposits AND withdrawals? He could make as many withdrawals as he wanted. David McFain wasn’t an advisor, he was a co-holder of the account.
Gradually, the realization that McFain had taken it all, everything she had worked so hard for. All the afternoons in some cheap hotel with Alan Wisecup had gotten her nothing. All the years and all the nights giving herself to that greedy, self-serving Cole Prestcott.
Everything she had taken from Cole had been taken from her. She’d been swindled. It was all gone. The enormity of the disaster began to overwhelm her. Where would she live? How would she eat? Failing to see the irony, Elaine began to cry.
Chapter 59
Sherrie held Gerry’s arm as they stepped off the dock onto the deck of the cruiser. “I still have a balance problem, but the doctors say that will probably come ‘round.” Gerry said with a smile.
Eve hugged him. “You’ve come a long way. We’re very proud of how hard you’ve worked.”
“And we’ve got something for you,” Jim said while reaching into a canvas bag. Out came a mahogany picture frame. “What’s this?” Gerry asked smiling.
Jim smiled, “Well, it seems there was a tin full of baseball cards in the newspaper bag. I found the tin on my bench last month. This is the best of the group. You’re not going to believe it, but this, my friend, is a 1914 Cracker Jacks Detroit Tiger’s Ty Cobb baseball card.”
Sherrie looked at Eve. “A baseball card? So what?”
Eve grinned, “Its Ty Cobb, he’s very famous.”
“Well, it’s awful old. Is that good?” Sherrie asked.
Eve nodded her head and smiled, Sherrie had no idea. “Yeah, that’s good. Very, very good.”
Gerry looked at Jim. “Oh buddy, I hope there were more like this.”
“Let’s just say we don’t have a problem paying for the gas,” Jim grinned.
The large cruiser’s engine rumbled to life then settled into a steady throb. Lines were cast off, bumpers pulled in and stored and seats were found. The boat gently idled out of the marina, turned to the north and the throttle was slowly pushed forward. In perfect synchronization with the throttle the throb turned to a roar and seconds later a rooster tail of white spray followed the boat’s every move. She was rocketing across the Grand Traverse West Bay now and heads were turning on every vessel she passed.
Jim turned to Gerry and grinned. “Sounds good doesn’t it?”
“Are you kidding me? That sounds great!’ Gerry yelled over the roar.
In the back of the thirty-four foot Chris-Craft Express Commuter, Sherrie and Eve’s hair flowed backward, whipped by the wind. Their eyes were bright, happy and tearing with the wind. The restoration of the boat had taken longer than expected, but not the three years Eve had silently guessed. Gerry laughed and tilted a bottle of beer in the universal sign of a toast. Jim accepted and tilted his beer back in acknowledgment.
The boat raced past the Leelanau Peninsula light house and turned its nose in the direction of Beaver Island. At this speed the run to the island would be over almost before it started. Jim was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. This was going to be a great summer on the lake.
“Hey, do you guys want to make a run around the island first, before we dock?” Claudia Wells sat at the wheel, her wheelchair folded in the cabin below. Claudia’s hair billowed behind her as well. Her smile was as bright as the sun.
“You’re the skipper!” Gerry called back.
Jim turned to Eve, “Never leave anyone behind,” he said. She smiled back and nodded. Yes, this was going to be a fine summer.
END
About the Author
HJ Gaudreau is a retired Air Force Colonel. Originally from Michigan, he currently lives with his wife Eve and beagle, Molly, in Oklahoma. They have one son, living very near to his Uncle Gerry and Aunt Sherrie.
The house is for sale and they hope to soon move home to
northern Michigan.
SAMPLE THE CRENSHAW’S
FIRST GREAT ADVENTURE
BETRAYAL IN THE
LOUVRE
Amazon Readers React:
The book starts off fast and doesn’t let up. I highly recommend this book and look forward to
the sequel…
If you like mystery combined with the good guys
coming out winners, this is for you. The characters are likable and you find yourself rooting for them to succeed in their quest to find
the lost treasures.
Enjoy a longer excerpt or purchase this and
other books by HJ Gaudreau at
www.hjgaudreau.com
A simple trip to an antique show leads to a fight for their life
Jim and Eve Crenshaw have found peace on a small farm. It’s a peaceful life. But when they find an ivory tube containing one of the four pieces of French Royal Regalia they are propelled into a world of international conspiracy, priceless antiquities, and ruthless killers.
Marie Antoinette’s heart breaks as her oldest son is ripped from her arms.
A WWI doughboy is caught in the horror of war.
Chased by Europe’s most dangerous killers,
only Jim’s cunning and Eve’s bravery can save them. Fast paced, non-stop suspense pushes this story through the French Revolution, World War One, Montreal, Paris and the French countryside.
BETRAYAL IN THE
LOUVRE
Enjoy a longer excerpt or purchase this and
other books by HJ Gaudreau at
www.hjgaudreau.com
Prologue
The notice that would forever change their lives was not found in a local, big city newspaper; rather it was in a weekly crier called the “Michigan Voice”. That Eve saw it at all was a bit of a surprise. They rarely, if ever picked up the Voice. But for some reason fate intervened, and Jim had grabbed the paper as he left the town’s only hardware store. Now, sitting on the back porch, drinking her coffee, waiting for Jim to finish in the barn, Eve thumbed through the only reading material available. And there it was, third page, lower left: “Antique Show and Charity Auction Returns to Detroit.” Jim, more than Eve, enjoyed the show. Rarely could they afford the items for sale; this was not a “clean out the garage” kind of antique show. This show was hosted by some of the country’s finest auction houses. They didn’t attend as buyers. Jim was a collector of arcane bits of trivia and simply found the auction to be a treasure trove of “interesting stuff”.
Suddenly, the baying of a beagle could be heard behind the equipment shed, a gray ghost raced around the building and headed for the pasture. Molly had picked up the scent and was close behind the rabbit.
Jim stepped from the barn, slid the door shut and walked to the house. “Your antique auction is next week,” she said as he climbed the porch steps. Jim washed his hands at the outdoor sink then sat in a deep wicker chair next to his wife.
H.J. Gaudreau - Jim Crenshaw 02 - The Collingwood Legacy Page 23
