Misery Bay: A Mystery Read Online Free PDF

I’m finally starting to make the connection. Beatrice was a good friend. She had the most wonderful flower gardens. Many of my own came from her. She always talked about you, but she called you … Gar.”
    “Lot of my friends in high school called me Gar. She picked it up.”
    “I remember you at her funeral. You were the boy who stayed beside Jim the whole time.”
    “Hardly a boy. I was well into my thirties.”
    “And Jim died so soon after.”
    “Six months. He just couldn’t imagine life without her. I tried to get him to come live with me in Halifax but he didn’t want to leave her grave. He went there every day.”
    “I remember—it was so sad.” She gazed pensively into the bay. “So you’re alone, then.”
    “Only child. They wanted more but couldn’t. I’m hardly alone, though. They both came from big families. I’ve got elderly aunts and uncles and hordes of cousins scattered all over the province. I was spoiled rotten when I was growing up. Even more so after I was injured.” He swore under his breath at the slip.
    She spoke the familiar words. “Injured how?”
    Even after a dozen years, he hated telling the story. “It was a long time ago. I was serving in the war in Afghanistan. Pretty mundane, really. Roadside bomb killed three in my platoon and neatly took off my right foot above the ankle. I was the lucky one.”
    As everyone did upon hearing the story, she glanced quickly at the foot and then carefully avoided looking at it again. Fact was, one of the few—very few—things he actually liked about Roland was that he never failed to mention the foot. No pussyfooting around with Roland. She surprised him, though, by not changing the subject.
    “I didn’t notice it at all. I suppose you have a prosthesis?”
    He looked at her for a moment, then reached down and lifted his pant leg, exposing the metal shaft. “They call it an “intelligent” prosthesis. Closest thing to a real foot on the market. Microprocessors, a gyroscope, actuators, software to replace muscle function. My dad used to say I had more brains in my foot than my head.”
    She laughed delightedly, her entire face lighting up. “That sounds like something Jim would say, all right.” She put one hand on his arm. “I’d like to come up and see the old place some time, if you wouldn’t mind. I spent many hours there. I’ve missed their company.”
    Before he could reply, a boat appeared around the headland, moving fast. It clearly had a powerful engine, and as it throttled down and angled into the wharf, Garrett recognized the man waving from behind the wheel: Tom Whitman, Coast Guard patrol for this part of the Eastern shore. He expertly maneuvered the craft in and jumped onto the dock, holding a line, the engine still sputtering.
    “Hi Gar—Mr. Marshed at the grocery said you might be over this way. I could use a hand. Got a report of a possible smuggler coming into Ecum Secum harbor.”
    “Sure, Tom. Tom Whitman—Sarah Pye.”
    “An old high school friend, I suppose,” Sarah said.
    “How’d you know that?” asked Tom, holding the boat easily as it rocked in its own wake.
    “I was just telling her how the guys sometimes called me Gar,” said Garrett.
    “Did you give her the whole nickname?”
    “That’s all right, Tom.” He jumped onto the boat’s deck. “I’ll take a rain check on showing you the house, okay?”
    “Not so fast,” she said, those lips firmly set. “What’s the whole nickname, Tom?”
    He grinned. “It was Gar-goyle—because he had so many goyl friends.”
    Her eyes washed over him, and he looked away.
    “Really?” she said.
    “It was a long time ago,” he said. “Thanks a lot, Tom. I’ve a mind to let you handle this by yourself.”
    Tom threw the rope on the boat and jumped aboard. “Better get going before my crew jumps ship.”

5
    T HEY MOVED QUICKLY OUT ONTO the bay, passed Dougal’s Island, then turned southwest toward the Eastern Shore Islands Wildlife