Death on the Mississippi Read Online Free PDF Page A

off.” He handed Lyon a tall frosted glass.
    Lyon sipped the drink. “Strong, very strong, but good.”
    â€œDouglas has done it again. Our mate was one of Florida’s best drug runners until he took a bullet in the leg fired by an angry Colombian.”
    Lyon judged the mate to be on the good side of thirty. He had sun-bleached brown hair that had turned nearly blond. His tan was of the deep variety that wouldn’t fade in the darkest of winters. He wore starched white duck pants, and a T-shirt that revealed firm biceps. The only fault in his near-perfect physique was a slight limp.
    â€œLet’s take her downstream and over to the job, Bobby,” Dalton said as they joined Bea and Pandora at a table. Bobby Douglas nodded, set a pitcher of Bloody Marys on the table, and climbed a ladder to the saloon roof. In minutes they were heading slowly down the Connecticut River toward Long Island Sound.
    Dalton took a large sip from his drink. “I am going to show you the newest down-and-dirty deal, which is also going to make us one hell of a lot of money.”
    Bea arched an eyebrow. “Legally?”
    Dalton smiled. “But of course. It has to do with a magnificent joke called time sharing. We’re completely refurbishing the old Pincus resort, all the rooms, cottages, and recreational facilities. When finished we shall convert to condominiums and sell time shares.”
    â€œThat’s not unusual,” Lyon said. “Where’s the joke?”
    â€œDwell on these figures a moment. If I remodel one of the waterside cottages with common interest in the other facilities, I can sell it for maybe two hundred thou, right?”
    â€œThat seems to be about market around here,” Lyon said.
    â€œNow, instead of selling the cottage to one owner, we’re going to sell weekly shares at ten thousand per. If my math is correct, that comes to roughly half a mil or more than double what I can get from a single-owner sale. It’s capitalism at its best,” Dalton said as he raised the pitcher of drinks to pour.
    Lyon’s world exploded in a film of red.
    â€œIncoming!” was Dalton’s hoarse yell.
    Although it had been years since he had heard the word, Lyon reacted instinctively. He catapulted himself out of his chair and across the table, while his right arm grasped Bea’s shoulder and pulled her forward and under him. They tumbled into a heap on the deck. He scrabbled forward, clutching Bea as he sought the protection of the deck housing.
    The shot sound echoed across the water.
    Bea’s face was bathed in red. He frantically ran his fingers across her cheeks and back into her hairline searching for the wound.
    Her tongue flicked across her lips. “Bloody Marys,” she said. “And you’re wearing them too.”
    The shadow of Bobby Douglas fell across their bodies as he hunched over at the top of the ladder that led to the deck house roof. He leaped, landed on the balls of his feet, and quickly rolled over to the protection of the rail. He held an automatic handgun in each fist and tossed one across the deck to Dalton, who deftly caught it.
    â€œNot funny, guys,” Bea said.
    â€œDid you see a muzzle flash?” Dalton asked Bobby as he ignored Bea’s remark.
    â€œNot a thing. I was watching the channel markers.”
    â€œJust the one shot that shattered the pitcher,” Dalton said. “We must be out of range, but take us out another thousand yards, Bobby. They won’t be able to get us with anything but a cannon.”
    â€œYes, sir.” Bobby Douglas ran along the seaward side of the houseboat and climbed back to the pilot house.
    Pandora began to whimper in the corner. “They’re going to kill us,” she choked. “I know they are.”
    â€œIt was probably some kids plinking in the marsh,” Dalton said.
    â€œWith a thirty-thirty?” Lyon asked.
    â€œI think he’s funning us and