Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page A

take with me. It was bitter news we had to share, and although it wasn’t much, I was hoping my offering would bring at least a smidgeon of comfort.
    Murray Selfridge’s Jaguar was purring down the lane as John and I stepped out of the inn. Detective Johnson had told us he would join us in a moment, then headed down to the dock to check with the team on the police launch.
    John was surprised to see Murray, and I realized I hadn’t ever mentioned Catherine’s date to him. “What’s he doing here?”
    “With the … the hullabaloo this afternoon, I guess I forgot to tell you. He took your mom out to lunch.”
    John blinked. “He what?”
    “I know. I found out from Zeke Forester. Apparently Murray wanted to pick her up in the yacht, but our dock is too shallow.” The sudden urge for a lemon bar gripped me at the sight of the familiar Jaguar, but I ignored it.
    We both watched as the car rolled to a halt in front of the inn. Murray got out, his blue seersucker pants slightly wrinkled, and hurried around to open Catherine’s door. He murmured something to her as he helped her out of the Jaguar, and she laughed like a schoolgirl.
    John and I exchanged an ominous glance.
    “How was lunch?” I asked. Both looked up, startled; they hadn’t noticed us.
    “Oh, it was divine,” Catherine said, beaming. “They have the most wonderful little salads, and Murray here is quite the raconteur.”
    “You’re the one with the stories,” he said, touching her on the arm. There was a look on his face that I’d never seen before: total adoration. Zeke was right, I realized. If you wanted something from Murray, you’d be wise to ask my future mother-in-law to put in a good word for you.
    “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Murray.” She played with the small string of pearls around her thin neck.
    “Can I tempt you to dinner on the yacht tomorrow?”
    “I can’t see why not. Natalie, you’ll be fine on your own tomorrow evening, won’t you?” There was an excitement in her eyes I’d never seen before. I was going to be seeing a lot more of Murray Selfridge in the near future, I realized with a sinking feeling.
    “Of course,” I said.
    She turned to Murray. “Well, then, I’d be delighted.”
    “ Bon soir, ma chérie ,” he said, the chérie coming out with a distinct Maine twang.
    “ Á demain !” she replied. “I’m just going to go inside and freshen up,” she told us. Her eyes registered Detective Johnson, and she gave him an appraising glance. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
    “Detective Johnson,” he said, extending a hand, which she took uncertainly.
    “You’re a police detective?”
    “There’s been a bit of an incident,” I said.
    She blinked. “Is everyone okay?”
    “Natalie found a young man dead in a dinghy this afternoon.” John’s voice was neutral. “There may have been foul play involved. Detective Johnson is here to investigate, and there’s a police launch down at the dock.”
    “An islander?” Murray’s tone was strained.
    “No,” John said. “A young man from Ellsworth. He was working as Adam’s sternman.”
    Murray let out a deep breath. “Well, that’s good. I’d hate for it to be one of our own.”
    “Murray.” Catherine drew herself up, and her eyes flashed. “Just because he wasn’t from here doesn’t mean it isn’t a tragedy.”
    “I know, dear,” he said, his voice patronizing. Dear ? I thought. They must be getting along very well indeed.
    Murray smiled broadly, exposing a line of yellowed teeth. “It’s no less a tragedy. It’s just … well, islanders are like family.”
    I almost choked, remembering how he’d tried to manipulate many “family” members to enable him to make big profits over the years.
    But the argument seemed to appease Catherine. She turned to me. “That must have been an awful shock. Did you know the young man?”
    “No,” I said. “But he was dating Charlene’s niece Tania, apparently.”
    “Poor lamb,” she