Murder At Tropical Cove Marina (Cozy Mystery) (Sea Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Crystal Winters
restaurant to pay the bill. As I moved my way through the maze of tables, I saw Mr. Guzmán , owner of Tropical Cove Crab House. He was wearing a new fancy gold chain around his neck and when he waved to me, I saw a flashy gold ring on his finger with a big rock that looked expensive enough to pay off the mortgage of my marina.
I waved and said, “ Hola! Cómo está, Señor Guzmán? ” Being of Spanish descent, Mr. Guzmán has taught me several greetings. I try to practice those each time I see him.
Mr. Guzmán replied, “ Buenas tardes, Maddie. Bien, gracias. But very tired. One of these days, ah, I need to get over to the marina. My engine needs a little revvin’ up and ah, I need to take my baby for a spin. ” He seemed a little distracted as he rushed by me as he headed to the kitchen area.
“Hasta la vista! Seño r Guzmán.”
Mr. Guzmán owns a 37ft Sea Ray with Twin Engines (300 HP Mercury). We are talking a slick, fast, powerful and expensive speedboat. He keeps it docked at our marina. Guzmán is a short man, balding with a round big belly but when he puts on his sailor hat and gets behind the wheel, he looks just like a captain. Guzmán is one of the movers and shakers of the town and is constantly involved in civic activities. And he would do anything to help out a friend, family or neighbor in need. Just last year he donated $50,000 to the new free medical clinic that opened last year to help out the uninsured residents in the community.
CHAPTER 4
It had been a long night so I took a nice long hot bath and went to bed early. I didn’t sleep well. I tossed and turned all night, thinking about Robert’s death. Also, there were bright streaks of lightning and loud thunder from thunderstorms throughout the night that would awaken me with a jolt. Most every time there is a bad thunderstorm, our area loses its electricity for an hour or so—don’t ask me why—but last night we were lucky for some reason. When I awoke the next morning, I forced myself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to make myself a pot of coffee. While I was waiting for the coffee to drip its caffeine-laden goodness into the carafe, I pulled my curtains open to catch the sunrise. The few remaining clouds—stragglers left over from the night’s thunderstorm—reflected the orange-red glow of the just rising sun. The reflection off the waters of the harbor combined to create a breathtakingly picturesque sunrise. I really should take up oil painting , I thought. The scenery from my fifth-floor condo overlooking the Gulf of Mexico on one side and the harbor on the other just seemed too good to waste. For the thousandth time, I thought of how fortunate I was to be living in Florida, and not freezing in the frigid north where many of my marina customers made their homes. After draining two cups of strong coffee, I got dressed and headed to work.
Once I arrived at the marina, there was lots of chaos and people milling around talking about Robert’s death and the investigation—“W as he murdered? Did he commit suicide? What is Carol going to do now? ” My father grabbed his cane and went out and reassured people that everything would be okay. He informed people that the Police would be following protocol and would be questioning individuals that would have any tips or leads to the case. He also reassured them that he would be installing a video surveillance camera on the docks so this sort of thing would not happen again. Busy as my father had been this morning, he was able to scribble down a note. I deciphered his chicken, scratch “ Ralph called in sick. ” I groaned and mumbled to myself, “Not again.” Ralph is our grounds keeper and maintenance fellow and not a very reliable worker. He calls off at least one day per week, which is very inconvenient to our operation. That was why I was in the process of hiring another maintenance worker.
But until I found someone to replace him, I had to pick up the slack. I did the
I waved and said, “ Hola! Cómo está, Señor Guzmán? ” Being of Spanish descent, Mr. Guzmán has taught me several greetings. I try to practice those each time I see him.
Mr. Guzmán replied, “ Buenas tardes, Maddie. Bien, gracias. But very tired. One of these days, ah, I need to get over to the marina. My engine needs a little revvin’ up and ah, I need to take my baby for a spin. ” He seemed a little distracted as he rushed by me as he headed to the kitchen area.
“Hasta la vista! Seño r Guzmán.”
Mr. Guzmán owns a 37ft Sea Ray with Twin Engines (300 HP Mercury). We are talking a slick, fast, powerful and expensive speedboat. He keeps it docked at our marina. Guzmán is a short man, balding with a round big belly but when he puts on his sailor hat and gets behind the wheel, he looks just like a captain. Guzmán is one of the movers and shakers of the town and is constantly involved in civic activities. And he would do anything to help out a friend, family or neighbor in need. Just last year he donated $50,000 to the new free medical clinic that opened last year to help out the uninsured residents in the community.
CHAPTER 4
It had been a long night so I took a nice long hot bath and went to bed early. I didn’t sleep well. I tossed and turned all night, thinking about Robert’s death. Also, there were bright streaks of lightning and loud thunder from thunderstorms throughout the night that would awaken me with a jolt. Most every time there is a bad thunderstorm, our area loses its electricity for an hour or so—don’t ask me why—but last night we were lucky for some reason. When I awoke the next morning, I forced myself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to make myself a pot of coffee. While I was waiting for the coffee to drip its caffeine-laden goodness into the carafe, I pulled my curtains open to catch the sunrise. The few remaining clouds—stragglers left over from the night’s thunderstorm—reflected the orange-red glow of the just rising sun. The reflection off the waters of the harbor combined to create a breathtakingly picturesque sunrise. I really should take up oil painting , I thought. The scenery from my fifth-floor condo overlooking the Gulf of Mexico on one side and the harbor on the other just seemed too good to waste. For the thousandth time, I thought of how fortunate I was to be living in Florida, and not freezing in the frigid north where many of my marina customers made their homes. After draining two cups of strong coffee, I got dressed and headed to work.
Once I arrived at the marina, there was lots of chaos and people milling around talking about Robert’s death and the investigation—“W as he murdered? Did he commit suicide? What is Carol going to do now? ” My father grabbed his cane and went out and reassured people that everything would be okay. He informed people that the Police would be following protocol and would be questioning individuals that would have any tips or leads to the case. He also reassured them that he would be installing a video surveillance camera on the docks so this sort of thing would not happen again. Busy as my father had been this morning, he was able to scribble down a note. I deciphered his chicken, scratch “ Ralph called in sick. ” I groaned and mumbled to myself, “Not again.” Ralph is our grounds keeper and maintenance fellow and not a very reliable worker. He calls off at least one day per week, which is very inconvenient to our operation. That was why I was in the process of hiring another maintenance worker.
But until I found someone to replace him, I had to pick up the slack. I did the
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