Dune to Death Read Online Free

was in there all along!”
    â€œSwell,” said Judith, a trifle dubiously. “Thanks,” she added, smiling. Being addressed as Mrs. Flynn was still a novelty. And a thrill. “I take it you don’t live on the beach?”
    Mrs. Hoke’s gray eyes widened. “The beach? Oh—the beach!” She giggled, an unmusical sound that jarred Judith’s ear. Why had she asked? Judith was anxious to be off with her bucket and shovel. But the genuine interest in other people that had helped make her B&B such a success was hard to put on hold. “The family home is actually a farm,” Mrs. Hoke explained, still bubbling with girlish glee. “It’s above the town.” She gestured with a long, thin hand. “My parents owned it. They started a creamery years ago and then built a cheese factory. Ogilvie’s Cheese was once a household word.”
    It had, in fact, been a common commodity in the McMonigle house, Judith recalled. But somewhere between an eviction notice and a threatening letter from the IRS, Ogilvie’s Cheese had disappeared from the local grocery. About the same time, the store also stopped permitting the McMonigles to pay by check. Judith wasn’t sorry those days were behind her, but now that she thought about it, she missed the cheese.
    â€œGood stuff,” said Judith, edging toward the door. “Did the family sell out?”
    Mrs. Hoke twirled her springy hair into strange little coils. “Well, sort of. This state was hit hard by a recession about then…” Her voice, the bubbles now deflated, trailed off.
    Judith knew about Oregon’s Hard Times that had begun more than a decade earlier. Long before the rest of the nation had nervously mouthed the word “Recession,” Oregon’s timber industry had been particularly hard-hit. Parts of the state were still fighting an uphill battle in what was optimistically called a Recovery Mode. But back in the late 1970s, Judith had enough economic disasters of her own. She gave Mrs. Hoke a sympathetic smile and pushed the door open.
    Her landlady seemed reluctant to leave. “You’re sure you have everything?” she asked, standing first on one foot and then the other. Judith noted Mrs. Hoke was wearing red knee-sox with hiking shoes. It was not a fetching combination.
    â€œYes, the cottage is wonderfully well furnished.” Judith kept her smile fixed in place.
    â€œOh, good.” Mrs. Hoke’s gaze lingered on the cozy kitchen with its nautical decor. The cupboards, like most of the room, were finished in knotty pine. “What about wax paper?”
    â€œHuh?” Judith’s smile slipped. “Wax paper? I don’t think we’ve needed any yet. There’s aluminum foil, though. That should do it.”
    Mrs. Hoke’s angular face turned eager. “I can go get wax paper at the store. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
    Judith tried not to look pained. “Actually, I was just going down to dig some clams…”
    The springy hair hopped up and down as Mrs. Hoke nodded vigorously. “That’s all right, I have a key. I’ll just leave the wax paper on the kitchen counter. And Drano. I’ll bet you’re out of Drano.”
    â€œHeaven knows I’d hate to be out of Drano,” said Judith, wondering if Mrs. Hoke knew something she wasn’t telling about the plumbing in Pirate’s Lair. Grabbing the bucket and shovel from next to a sealed carton marked “Fragile,” Judith bade Mrs. Hoke farewell and walked in her long-legged manner across the front lawn to the wooden staircase that led to the beach.
    It was a long way down. Judith counted the steps which made several zigs and zags before reaching the flat, gray sand. One hundred forty stairs in all, a serious workout as far as Judith was concerned. Especially since she would have to climb them going back. Luckily, she was suffering no ill effects from the