Terror Flower (River Sunday Romance Mysteries Book 5) Read Online Free
Author: Thomas Hollyday
curls of the big boat’s wake, sending fine spray over Smote and Tench.
“We’re coming up on Strake’s property. His men might see us pretty soon,” said Smote. “Maybe keep us from looking around.”
“Steer far out from land, out of the prohibited area. We don’t want any trouble,” said Tench. Smote moved the steering wheel and headed slightly west. The workboat stood out from the shoreline, keeping the land about a half mile to starboard.
The yacht already headed off shore. Whether he knew about Strake’s cruising prohibitions or not, the yacht’s captain, Tench reasoned, had no interest in running aground. Tench noticed the big yacht’s wake crashing against the shore beach, the sunlit spray heading up into the air against the six foot hollowed out clay banks, well eroded from decades of tides and storms. Above the banks, fields of corn and rows of pines and small trees, bright from sunlight on their upper stalks and leaves, had dark shadows below. As Smote cut speed and engine noise, Tench heard the oak-a-lee call of a red winged blackbird.
To their west stretched the Chesapeake Bay itself, with its blue deep water, purple in the distance and covered with a thin line of heat haze. Two huge tankers passed each other, far out in the channel about four miles away. One came from Baltimore heading out empty and the other ran deep in the water with a supply of petroleum. To the north Tench could see the towers of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge with long suspension spans.
Strake’s waterfront came abreast of the Emmy’s starboard. Far back over an expanse of lawn stretching up from the shoreline Tench saw the Strake mansion and the barns, including the two story silver colored car barn where the millionaire stored his precious antique cars. Behind the barn Tench noticed a new structure with a corrugated steel roof, wider but not as tall as the museum. This building Tench had not seen before. The bottom below the boat shoaled fast in some places. This shallow area with its seaweed and muddy bottom hid the best local breeding ground for the blue crabs and the oysters.
The shoreline arced inward into small bays, returning each time to its long line along the surf. Tench spotted ragged patterns of crusted seaweed and the remains of fish cast up on the beach, left behind with the tides. The trees alongside the lawn area had been cut back making the expanse much wider. A bulldozer sat parked in the center. It appeared Strake had been preparing an expansive lawn on what had once been a long field of knee high grass and mud ruts. Tench noticed with a smile the tiny white garden structure at the edge of the lawn. He and Julie had their talks in this little building with its wooden railings and cake work roof. In those days they talked of designing great racing cars together. Her little ditty, often said to him, went through his mind, reminding him of those old days,
“I’ll design them and you build them,”
The yacht began to slow down and the Emmy came up on her port side, far west of her towards the deeper water of the Bay. Tench picked up the binoculars and scanned the deck of the yacht. He could see several black men, one at the wheel and the others working lines. He could also read the name on the stern. “Oilman” and the port of registry of Washington.
“With a name like that, she must belong to Strake or his company in Texas,” said Tench. “I’ve never seen her before.”
Smote nodded and moved the wheel. He had to steer out into the Bay to avoid the stern of the bigger craft. The bow of the workboat rose high on the crests of the former boat’s wake.
Tench said, “You know, I think he’s following the deep water channel that Strake dredged into his place.” They watched as the yacht turned toward the shoreline and began a direct plot to the pier where Strake had several small boats tied up.
Tench pointed to the yacht. “I guess Mister Strake‘s got visitors.”
Smote had his own binoculars
“We’re coming up on Strake’s property. His men might see us pretty soon,” said Smote. “Maybe keep us from looking around.”
“Steer far out from land, out of the prohibited area. We don’t want any trouble,” said Tench. Smote moved the steering wheel and headed slightly west. The workboat stood out from the shoreline, keeping the land about a half mile to starboard.
The yacht already headed off shore. Whether he knew about Strake’s cruising prohibitions or not, the yacht’s captain, Tench reasoned, had no interest in running aground. Tench noticed the big yacht’s wake crashing against the shore beach, the sunlit spray heading up into the air against the six foot hollowed out clay banks, well eroded from decades of tides and storms. Above the banks, fields of corn and rows of pines and small trees, bright from sunlight on their upper stalks and leaves, had dark shadows below. As Smote cut speed and engine noise, Tench heard the oak-a-lee call of a red winged blackbird.
To their west stretched the Chesapeake Bay itself, with its blue deep water, purple in the distance and covered with a thin line of heat haze. Two huge tankers passed each other, far out in the channel about four miles away. One came from Baltimore heading out empty and the other ran deep in the water with a supply of petroleum. To the north Tench could see the towers of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge with long suspension spans.
Strake’s waterfront came abreast of the Emmy’s starboard. Far back over an expanse of lawn stretching up from the shoreline Tench saw the Strake mansion and the barns, including the two story silver colored car barn where the millionaire stored his precious antique cars. Behind the barn Tench noticed a new structure with a corrugated steel roof, wider but not as tall as the museum. This building Tench had not seen before. The bottom below the boat shoaled fast in some places. This shallow area with its seaweed and muddy bottom hid the best local breeding ground for the blue crabs and the oysters.
The shoreline arced inward into small bays, returning each time to its long line along the surf. Tench spotted ragged patterns of crusted seaweed and the remains of fish cast up on the beach, left behind with the tides. The trees alongside the lawn area had been cut back making the expanse much wider. A bulldozer sat parked in the center. It appeared Strake had been preparing an expansive lawn on what had once been a long field of knee high grass and mud ruts. Tench noticed with a smile the tiny white garden structure at the edge of the lawn. He and Julie had their talks in this little building with its wooden railings and cake work roof. In those days they talked of designing great racing cars together. Her little ditty, often said to him, went through his mind, reminding him of those old days,
“I’ll design them and you build them,”
The yacht began to slow down and the Emmy came up on her port side, far west of her towards the deeper water of the Bay. Tench picked up the binoculars and scanned the deck of the yacht. He could see several black men, one at the wheel and the others working lines. He could also read the name on the stern. “Oilman” and the port of registry of Washington.
“With a name like that, she must belong to Strake or his company in Texas,” said Tench. “I’ve never seen her before.”
Smote nodded and moved the wheel. He had to steer out into the Bay to avoid the stern of the bigger craft. The bow of the workboat rose high on the crests of the former boat’s wake.
Tench said, “You know, I think he’s following the deep water channel that Strake dredged into his place.” They watched as the yacht turned toward the shoreline and began a direct plot to the pier where Strake had several small boats tied up.
Tench pointed to the yacht. “I guess Mister Strake‘s got visitors.”
Smote had his own binoculars
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