Murdered in Argentina: A Jack Trout Cozy Mystery Read Online Free PDF

the food several times, sniffed it, and decided it was fit to eat. A few minutes later he was back on the bed, rubbing his whiskers on the bedspread. Carola swore he was smiling.
    “Cayo, I don’t think whoever’s going to clean this room tomorrow morning would be very happy if she knew you what you were doing on the bed.” He cocked his head while she spoke and resumed his cleaning ritual.
    “Jack, do you think I can leave Cayo loose in our room or should I put him in his carrier when neither one of us is here with him?”
    “We’ve had him for several months now and never had a problem with him getting into trouble or destroying anything. I think he’ll be fine. About ready to go downstairs?”
    “Give me five more minutes. I’d like to finish unpacking, and then I’ll be ready.”
    A half hour later Ray walked out on the porch where Jack and Carola were sitting, quietly holding hands and looking out at the lake. In one hand Ray held a long leather tube which had been custom-made for his Winston fly rod and in his other hand they could see a very old box which held his flies. “This is what I’ve got, Jack. Hope it’s good enough to catch some trout.”
    “Let’s go down to the lake. I see some of your guests are already practicing their casting. Rather imagine they don’t want the boss to show them up completely, and if you’ve never used this rod and reel, you probably need to get a feel for it,” Jack said laughing.
    “Ray, is Lisa coming out soon?” Carola asked.
    “I have no idea. When I left her in the room, she was hooked up to the Internet and on Facebook. I swear, she spends so much time on Facebook I sometimes wonder if she has a boyfriend on there.”
    “Let me see that rod,” Jack said, looking intently at the rod case in Ray’s hand.
    Ray took the two pieces of the 4 weight fly rod out of its leather rod case and snapped them together, being careful to make sure that all of the ferrules were lined up in a straight line.
    “Ray, you told me about the rod and the flies. What kind of a reel do you have that you’re going to use with it? Is it from your father as well?” Jack asked.
    “Yup. Forgot to tell you about the reel. My dad got it from Ike as well. It was given to the president by a member of England’s House of Lords. It’s a Hardy Perfect, obviously from England. The date stamp on it indicates it was manufactured in 1895. That’s only four years after the first reel was manufactured by Hardy.”
    “I feel like I’m in a fly fishing museum,” Jack said. “These are things I’ve only read about. I can’t believe I’m going to be fishing with someone who will be using them.”
    “If you play your cards right and make sure I catch some trout, there’s a good chance I’ll let you try them out,” Ray said winking.
    Jack grinned. “I think I’ve died and gone to fly fishing heaven. I’ll definitely want a photograph of the rod and reel for my newsletter.”
    “Consider it done.”
    They walked down to the lake and spent the next hour and a half casting while Jack gave Ray a few instructional tips. Neither one of them noticed the sidelong looks the other guests gave them or the faces at the windows, both upstairs and downstairs, that were watching as Ray effortlessly made longer and longer casts with the beautiful and oh-so-graceful antique fly rod.
     

CHAPTER 7
                                                                           
    Pablo Varela and Mateo Diaz joined the other two fly fishing guides in Pilar’s warm kitchen located in the lodge. Over the years it had become a tradition for the guides to eat dinner together in Pilar’s kitchen the night before the guests went fishing for the first time. They shared what they knew about the guests and decided which ones would fish with which guides and on which rivers.
    On his walk over to the kitchen from the fish shed Pablo wished this dinner