The Clam Bake Murder: A Windward Bay Mystery Read Online Free Page B

back then. It had tasted just as good, too.
    “So what would you like to know...about Gordo McNair?” he asked.
    “Whatever you can tell me. He was a pariah around Windward several years back. What was he like back then? You investigated his background, right?”
    “Well, we ran an investigation into his previous real estate ventures, spoke to clients he’d dealt with, other investors. We concluded that he was above board as a businessman, beyond reproach legally speaking. But he was a...how would one say it...” He sipped his soda, looked to the fizz for inspiration “...a bit of a rodeo rider in the real estate market. High risk ventures, gutsy investments, and he came on strong, full of bravado, that can-do attitude that never fails to impress the wide-eyed and the quick-buck audience. But it was clear he didn’t have much stamina as a businessman. Almost every project he’d tried had hit a snag early on, and rather than stay for the long haul, try to weather it, he’d pulled out. That pretty much typified him as far as the Select Committee was concerned: tough out of the gate, but just you wait. He’d have dug up half of Windward to build his condos, then at the first financial hurdle, he’d have left us high and dry. All legal-like, abiding by his contract and his clauses. But Windward would have been just as a dug up, unfinished, used .
    “And to be honest, I didn’t like him personally. He seemed so...single-minded. Not much of a sense of humor. What young Alice ever saw in him is beyond me. Maybe it was the out-of-town thing, the rancher thing; girls seem to go for that kind of cowboy bravado. I’m glad you’ve got more sense, Sylvia. I think you’re more like your Uncle Sean was—true to your roots.”
    “Maybe. Back to the condo venture: has there ever been any talk of him re-applying for permission? Like recently?”
    He looked out the front window, swilled the drink in his mouth, and swallowed. “What was that? Re-apply?”
    “Has Gordo re-applied for building permission?”
    “Um, as a matter of fact, there was something mentioned...”
    “About the condos?”
    He excused himself while he leant past me to brush a few stray wood shavings into the waste basket. He’d always been fussy like that. I glimpsed an unusual gum wrapper in the trash, one with orange and silver stripes. “Not sure if it was condos or not,” he said. “But Melissa Briggs said a land developer had been in touch with her—someone from Elysium Homes—asking about official channels, who the best person to speak to was. She gave him my number, but I haven’t heard from him.”
    “Was that recent?”
    “About a week ago, I’d say. Is any of this connected to what happened to Alice?”
    “Not sure. I’m just trying to get a background picture. It does strike me as odd that after all these years...”
    His grip tightened, squeaked on his moist glass. “Yes, it does seem strange. A week before Gordo returns to Windward.”
    I thanked him for his time and the Sarsaparilla, told him I’d be in touch if I found out anything more about Gordo. Then I decided to drive to Melissa Briggs’s place on the other side of town, hoping she might be able to shed some light on the mysterious land developer’s inquiry. The timing of it seemed a little too coincidental.
    On the way, I spotted Arlene Moreno, Ray’s mother, marching past the playground of John Paul Jones Elementary wearing tight leggings, high heels, and a green Vikings jersey. So I pulled in, scurried after her, tried my best to get her to stop so I could have a word.
    “Gonna have to walk with me, sweetheart,” she said. “I ain’t slowin’ down for no one. Those sumbitches, they got my Ray locked up, sayin’ he’s a suspect in your cousin’s murder. I aim to knock some sense into their dumb frickin’ heads. Ray told me what happened, what that psycho husband of hers done at the clam bake. He started it, right? The fightin’?”
    “Gordo started the