by Cindy Sample
I hate when a killer makes a daring escape. So annoying!
The woman helped haul her companion out of the water. The former boat occupants hustled over to the marina office. I scanned the empty slips for some mode of transportation, but the only available watercraft was an unoccupied pedal boat. That would take me two days to get across the lake.
The roar of a returning Jet Ski carrying a single occupant resolved my dilemma. As he drew close to the pier, I showed him my business card, which was not nearly as effective as a badge, but it seemed to do the trick. Or maybe it was my cleavage when I bent over to display I was a card-carrying P.I.
Either way, before he could think twice, I’d stepped out of my shoes, strapped on his flotation jacket, attached the kill switch to my wrist, and hit the start button. I maintained the five m.p.h. speed limit until I exited the no-wake zone, then pushed the watercraft to the max.
While I’d been a passenger on several occasions, I’d never been in charge of the controls before. It felt very liberating. Very “I am woman, hear me (and my Jet Ski) roar.”
Now all I had to do was stay upright and catch a killer.
All in a day’s work for this detective.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Marty’s boat had left the dock heading straight north. But this was a big lake with seventy-two miles of shoreline. And Marty’s boat probably wasn’t the only turquoise one out there. Was he trying to make a run for it on a permanent basis? Or only trying to get away from me?
Did he even have a plan at this point? Did I?
I vaguely remembered Marty saying he lived in Zephyr Cove, Nevada, a twenty-minute drive from his office. An even shorter ride across the lake. If he planned to escape, he might need a passport.
Or maybe he needed to head home to destroy some incriminating evidence in his house.
As I pondered various alternatives, a large ski boat filled with drunken sailors crossed in front of me. The turbulent wake they left behind caused my watercraft to rock and roll.
The Jet Ski leaned to the left and so did I. It took every rarely used muscle in my body to keep it from tipping over but I succeeded.
Definitely getting to the gym when this case was over.
I looked in both directions to ensure no other boats were close to my chosen path and veered the machine to the right heading east.
If my conclusion was correct, I could catch up to Marty at the Zephyr Cove Marina and hopefully talk him into turning himself in. If not, I’d call Ali Reynolds and tell her about Marty’s admission of guilt to me.
That probably wouldn’t be sufficient to keep him behind bars unless you combined it with Kimberly’s confirmation of his absence from their breakfast meeting. Not to mention his boat theft. It might suffice until they reexamined the evidence from Gregg’s murder.
With my hair flying in the wind and the Jet Ski skimming the lake, I managed to locate my quarry just outside the no-wake zone. A turquoise speed boat driven by a man with strawberry blond hair wearing a floral shirt.
Gotcha. Now all I had to do was sneak into the marina without Marty noticing me in pursuit. The roar of a racing boat coming up behind me got not only my attention, but Marty’s as well. When he saw me closing in on the pier, he yanked his steering wheel to the right and maneuvered the boat around, now heading back out on the lake.
Directly at me!
Marty pushed his speedboat to the max, completely ignoring the five m.p.h. speed signs posted in the area around the marina.
I’d already slowed the Jet Ski for entry into the marina. With the prow of his boat set on a collision course with me, I froze momentarily.
Then I regained command of my senses. I accelerated and veered to the right.
Marty’s boat missed me by mere inches. My heart dropped to the bottom of the lake while I caught my breath.
Boom.
The sound of two boats colliding echoed off the sides of the mountain. I turned my craft around to view the disaster.
The racing boat appeared to be damaged in the prow, but it remained afloat. The young couple looked stunned but physically okay. At least, from this distance. Marty, however, hadn’t fared as well. He thrashed in the water, calling for help.
The occupants of the other boat threw him a life preserver, and as he swam in their direction, a Douglas County patrol boat drew up beside him. The deputy pulled a dripping Marty onboard and steered for the marina.
I headed in the same direction, anticipating enough charges against Marty to keep him locked up until an official murder charge could also be brought.
And when this was all over, I definitely needed a glass of chardonnay.
Better yet, a bottle.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
A few weeks later, we celebrated Father’s Day with new papa Brian Daley and doting mother, Liz. The guest list included all generations of my family, a few close friends, and Adriana, who made the cut by default since she’d shared prisoner status with Liz. The last few weeks had been hectic for the new parents and for me as I wrapped up my investigations.
This was my first chance to relax and share all with our friends and my former client.
I looked at Adriana, smiling down at little Colin, who snuggled on her chest while Liz played hostess serving drinks all around.
Who would have thought Adriana was the maternal type?
“I feel that I contributed considerably to Kimberly’s eventual arrest,” Liz said as she handed off a daiquiri to me. “Perhaps a killer consulting fee?”
“How about an official commendation letter from the agency?” I offered. When she scrunched her nose, I added, “And a bottle of your favorite champagne.”
“What about me?” asked Adriana. “Don’t forget my impressive karate kick to that goon. When do I get my champagne?”
Stan, a morose expression on his face, chimed in. “I can’t believe you three had all the fun without me.”
A trio of matching glares was his reply. “Aw, you know what I mean,” he said. “I got boring stakeout duty, and you guys took down a huge burglary ring. How awesome is that?”
I grinned. It sure was.
“I still don’t understand what was going on between Gino, Jake and the other biker dude,” Adriana said. “What was their deal?”
“Another money-laundering arrangement,” Tom replied. “Our FBI contact caught up with them, and they are currently behind bars for drug trafficking and money laundering.”
Adriana’s lip quivered as she handed Colin back to his mother. “I don’t think I can ever trust a man again.”
I patted her hand. “You feel that way now, but given time, you’ll be back out there. I guarantee it.”
She shook her head, her shiny dark locks flowing down the back of her sundress.
“Nope. Won’t happen. I’m done with men forever.”
Then she lifted her designer sunglasses over her forehead and squinted toward the sidewalk where a tall man approached our group, a six-pack in one hand and a broad smile on his face.
Adriana did a type of shimmy wiggle that somehow made her look even sexier. She fluffed her hair and smiled seductively as the guy stopped next to us.
“Well, hello there,” she said in a throaty voice, putting out her palm. “I’m Adriana.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied, shaking her hand with his free one. “I’m Hank.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Close to midnight that evening, Tom and I sat on the glider on the back patio, reflecting on the events of the past month. My kids were spending the night with their father, and Kristy was enjoying an overnight with Tom’s parents.
Alone at last.
Unsurprisingly, our conversation focused on murder.
“I feel so sorry for Marty,” I said. “Obviously, he went too far, but his daughter’s attempted suicide ultimately pushed him over the edge.”
“As a parent, we want to protect our kids every second of their life.” Tom stared at his shoes. “I get it. But
violence against another person serves no purpose.”
I sighed. “I still hope his attorney can get him a reduced charge. I almost feel guilty about going after him. If it weren’t for me, he might have escaped and destroyed his daughter’s diary.”
Tom leaned in and drew me closer. I snuggled next to him, his lime aftershave reminding me of the daiquiris Liz had served earlier.
Both equally yummy!
“You did what you had to do. And it looks like you managed to successfully wrap up your entire caseload,” Tom said. “Nice work for a newbie.”
“Hard to believe the murders were the easiest cases to solve. Getting money back from those lowlife timeshare resale companies has proved to be the most difficult.”
“That was nice of your mother to purchase Iris’s timeshare points.”
I laughed. “She’s so funny. The woman is bound and determined to make Bradford take a vacation. Even if she’s stuck paying timeshare dues forever.”
Tom maneuvered so we were facing one another. “I wouldn’t mind booking a vacation somewhere. Maybe your mother would let us use her points sometime.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”
“An isolated beach, turquoise blue waters, palm trees waving in the breeze. Just you and me together alone on the sand, where I can do this”—he placed a kiss on my neck—“and this”—another kiss—“and…”
Every nerve ending in my body screamed “woo hoo” but I made a valiant attempt to continue our conversation.
“According to Iris, those plum resorts are difficult to book.”
Tom lifted his head, his brown eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “As long as I’m with you, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter where we go. I have only two requirements.”
I sat up, curious what Tom required before we took a vacation.
Tom ticked them off on his long supple fingers. “One—none of your family comes along.”
“No problem,” I said. “And two?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he replied. “No dead bodies.”
I grabbed his hand and placed it over my heart. “It’s a deal.”
THE END
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If so, please consider leaving a review. Favorable reviews help an author more than you can imagine.
All the Laurel McKay Mysteries are listed below.
Dying for a Date (Vol. 1)
Dying for a Dance (Vol. 2)
Dying for a Daiquiri (Vol. 3)
Dying for a Dude (Vol. 4)
Dying for a Donut (Vol 5)
Dying for a Diamond (Vol. 6)
Dying for a Deal (Vol. 7)
To find out about new books, upcoming events and contests, please sign up for my newsletter:
http://cindysamplebooks.com/mailing-list/
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks and hugs to the awesome friends who willingly read my early drafts: Jana Rossi and two of my favorite mystery authors, Heather Haven and Linda Lovely. As always, my critique group was there to answer my countless emails and plotting questions: Kathy Asay, Pat Foulk, Rae James, and Karen Phillips, my amazing cover artist.
A special thanks to Denise Haerr for helping with my South Lake Tahoe research.
Thanks to my editors, Baird Nuckolls and Lourdes Venard.
I’m so glad that Cheryl Redfearn-Escobar entered her Bernese mountain dog in my “Dying for a Dog” contest. Scout is the perfect addition to Laurel’s family.
Claudia Kennedy, your entry for the “Help Me Write a Chase Scene” contest ended up being so similar to the final chase scene in the book. Congratulations to you.
I am grateful to my Facebook friends and readers whose prayers, positive thoughts and encouraging words lifted my spirits during my recent surgery and chemotherapy. Thanks to the friends who sent flowers and cards, chauffeured me to appointments and fed me. Special thanks to Cathy Allyn. You are an angel!
The support and encouragement I receive from my fellow Sisters in Crime (Sacramento and Northern California), Sacramento Valley Rose, and NCPA keeps my creativity flowing.
Thanks to the Assistance League of the Sierra Foothills for their ongoing support, as well as the wonderful work they do for our community.
And last, thanks to my family back in the Midwest for their loving concern and my children, Dawn and Jeff, who are always there for me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cindy Sample is a former mortgage banking CEO who decided plotting murder was more entertaining than plodding through paperwork. She retired to follow her lifelong dream of becoming a mystery author.
Her experiences with online dating sites fueled the concept for Dying for a Date, the first in her national bestselling Laurel McKay mysteries. The sequel, Dying for a Dance, winner of the 2011 NCPA Fiction Award, is based on her adventures in the glamorous world of ballroom dancing. Cindy thought her protagonist, Laurel McKay, needed a vacation in Hawaii, which resulted in Dying for a Daiquiri, a finalist for the 2014 Silver Falchion Award for Best Traditional Mystery.
Laurel returned to Placerville for her wildest ride yet in in Dying for a Dude. The West will never be the same. Then on to Dying for a Donut, a lip-smacking mystery set in the Apple Hill area.
It was time for Laurel (or maybe that was Cindy) to take another vacation. You can’t beat a Caribbean cruise as the setting for Dying for a Diamond. Unless your setting is Lake Tahoe, the scene of the crime in Dying for a Deal.
Cindy is a five-time finalist for the LEFTY Award for best humorous mystery and a past president of the Sacramento chapter of Sisters in Crime. She has served on the boards of the Sacramento Opera and YWCA. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America and Romance Writers of America. Cindy has two wonderful adult children who live too far away. She loves chatting with readers so feel free to contact her on any forum.
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