Strange Bedfellow Read Online Free Page A

The nearest person was a surf fisherman, a stick figure distantly visible. It was one of those times when she thought of many things as she sat, but couldn't remember a single one when she rose to leave.  
    It was nine o'clock, the time she usually arrived at the office for a half-day's work, minimum. But Dina couldn't think of a single item that was pressing, except the one the family attorney had called about the first of the week.  
    Returning to her Porsche parked off the road near the beach, she drove to the nearest telephone booth and stopped. She rummaged through her purse for change and dialed the office number. It was answered on the second ring.  
    “Amy? This is Mrs. Chandler.” She shut the door of the phone booth to close out the whine of the semitrailer going by. “I won't be in this morning, but there's some correspondence on the Dictaphone I would like typed this morning.”  
    “I've already started it,” her young secretary answered.  
    “Good. When you have it done, leave it on my desk. Then you can call it a day. All right?”  
    “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Chandler.” Amy Wentworth was obviously delighted.  
    “See you Monday,” Dina said, and hung up.  
    Back in the white sports car, she headed for the boat marina where Blake's sailboat was docked. She parked the car by the small shed that served as an office. A man sat in a chair out front.  
    Balanced was the better word, as the chair was tilted back, allowing only the two rear legs to support it. The man's arms were folded in front of him and a faded captain's hat was pulled over his face, permitting only a glimpse of his double chin and the graying stubble of beard.  
    Dina hopped out of the sports car, smiling at the man who hadn't changed in almost three years. “Good morning, Cap'n Tate.”  
    She waited for his slow, drawling New England voice to return the greeting. He was a character and he enjoyed being one.  
    The chair came down with a thump as a large hand pushed the hat back on top of his head. Gray eyes stared at her blankly for a minute before recognition flickered in them.  
    “How do, Miz Chandler.” He rose lumberingly to his feet, pulling his faded trousers up to cover his paunch. The end result was to accentuate it.  
    “It's been so long since I've seen you. How have you been?”  
    “Mighty fine, Miz Chandler, mighty fine.” The owner of the marina smiled and succeeded in extending the smile to his jowled cheeks. “I s'pose you're here to get the Starfish cleaned out. Shore was sorry when your attorney told me you was goin’ to rent it out.”  
    “Yes, I know.” Her smile faded slightly. Getting rid of the boat seemed to be like closing the final chapter about Blake in her life. “But it was pointless to keep the boat dry-docked here, unused.”  
    “She's a damn fine boat,” he insisted, puffing a bit as he stepped inside the shed door and reached for a key. “Never know, someday you might want it yourself.”  
    Dina laughed, a little huskily. “You know I'm not a sailor, Cap'n Tate. I need a whole bottle of motion-sickness pills just to make it out of the harbor without getting seasick!”  
    “Then you sleep the whole time.” He guffawed and started coughing. “I never will forget that time Blake came carrying you off the boat sound asleep. He told me aft'wards that you didn't wake up till the next moring.”  
    “If you will recall, that was the last time he even suggested I go sailing with him.” She took the key he handed her, feeling a poignant rush of memories and trying to push them back.  
    “D'ya want some help movin’ any of that stuff?” he offered.  
    “No, thank you.” She couldn't imagine the two of them in the small cabin, not with Cap'n Tate's protruding belly. “I can manage.”  
    “You just give me a holler if you need anything,” he said nodding his grizzled head. “You know where she's docked.”  
    “I do.” With a wave of her hand, Dina started