Starfish Prime (Blackfox Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

Eddie was the detective leading the investigation. He’s since retired, but would like to talk to you guys. Here is his address. My cell phone number is on is on the back. I’m late for a meeting. They’re using me as a decoy hooker again, but Eddie will fill you in.” Buford wanted to ask her where she was going to be decoying, but thought better of it. 
    Marilyn then did something uncharacteristic for the usually demure detective.
    She locked eyes with Buford, smiled and said, “Call me if you need anything at all.” Score, thought Buford, but he would have thought that regardless―optimism is a force multiplier, he liked to say.
    They drove down Seminole Blvd to Madeira Beach, crossed the bascule bridge onto the barrier island, and turned south t oward St. Pete Beach. Buford turned left about a half mile later and pulled into the parking lot of Mad Beach Marina and Grocery. 
    Finding Eddie’s boat was easy. Marilyn had described it as being hard to miss and she was right―a Vietnam era US Navy tugboat converted into a home on the water. It was over a hu ndred feet long, with a beam of over twenty-five feet and a broad, rounded bow. The tug remained painted in the original battleship grey, but little else about it was unmodified. 
    “Come on aboard,” Eddie shouted from the pilothouse door. They walked across the short aluminum gangplank while Eddie climbed down the narrow stairway that led from the pilothouse to the stern and greeted them.
    “I’m Eddie Doyle, formerly of Pinellas County Sheriff’s Robbery and Homicide section. Marilyn called and filled me in. 
    “Sergeants Robinson and Buford, MARSOC,” replied Gunny Rob.
    Eddie ushered them to a circular leather and rattan couch that occupied the starboard side of the stern. “Please have a seat,” 
    “Nice boat,” said SGT Buford. 
    “Thanks, I bought her from an Oil Rig Service Company and restored her myself. Well, mostly myself,” said Eddie looking toward the cabin. 
    A statuesque blond suddenly appeared in the doorway to the main salon. “Arnold Palmer’s anyone?”
    Both Marines jumped to their feet while Carla introduced herself, distributed the drinks, and took a seat beside Eddie. She looked to be in her late forties, close to six feet tall, with a large chest that was barely contained by her white bikini top. She wore a short, tropical wrap around her waist to conceal her bottom.
    “Sorry, I was taking advantage of the spring sunshine on the bow,” said Carla. 
    Eddie opened a thick leather-bound photo album that sat resting on the glass-topped coffee table in front of the couch.
    “This is why I asked you guys to come out to see me. I’ve been accumulating articles, photos, and other artifacts concerning the robbery of the Star of Tampa and the resultant killings, thefts, kidnapping, and other assorted mayhem stretching over thirty years. I was always planning on writing a book about it, because it is without a doubt the strangest case I was ever involved in.” 
    On the first page of the album were several old black-and white glossy photos of the Star of Tampa.
    “I finished out my career at the Sheriff’s Department looking for Char and Michael Blackfox, began Eddie. In 1974, Char Blackfox, Michael’s father, robbed the Star of Tampa. Carla was on the boat when it was robbed.” 
    Carla nodded, slowly. “The robbers killed the man who was my fiancée at the time. The Star of Tampa was subsequently sunk by a rogue wave while it was at a dead stop because of the robbery.” 
    “Rogue wave? I heard one hit a cruise ship a couple years ago,” interjected Buford. 
    “Correct. The Norwegian Dawn was hit by a seventy foot wave on April 17 th while returning to New York. It broke several windows and flooded at least sixty cabins. The one that hit the Star was estimated to be at least one hundred feet in height,” said Eddie.  “Pretty good memory,” said Gunny Rob. 
    “Eidetic,” corrected Carla. “Excuse me.”