The Haunted Beach (Tropical Breeze Cozy Mystery Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

day.”
    “Forty-eight.”
    Poppy didn’t even ask how Rosie knew. Between them, the twins knew a lot.
    “Forty-eight ain’t young. Technically, it’d make her a cougar, in the right situation, which she’d never get into, because she’s not looking for it, but if she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone, she’d better get back in the game.”
    “And the hell of it is, I think Mr. Ryder is really interested in her.”
    “He is. Oh, he is.”
    They both paused to ravish Daniel Ryder in feverish images. They had seen him taking off for his run on the beach many times, naked to the waist and glistening, the corded muscles of his legs working powerfully, the chiseled line of his jaw tense with raw determination, his face nakedly expressing the tortures of his soul. Not much chest hair, just enough to tickle, and no back hair at all. Unbeknownst to one another, they had both endowed him with streaming, waist-length hair instead of the white crew cut he really wore, along with a Scottish warrior’s kilt instead of beach baggies. Out of the crimson mists of imagination, his turquoise eyes blazed at them in secret agony.
    “Hot,” Rosie said.
    “Oh yeah,” Poppy agreed, and she didn’t mean the weather.
    They drank Coke with synchronized precision, then reached into the potato chip bag at the same time, managing not to get their hands tangled. They’d been doing it all their lives.
    “He’s sympathetic, at least. He seems distant, but you can see that he cares .”
    “Yes. Yes he does. A real gentleman. A hero,” she added, not knowing why, because she really knew nothing about him. Though they’d been cleaning his house the entire five years he’d lived in Santorini, he’d hardly spoken twenty words to them. “You can see he’s retired military. Special forces.”
    “Definitely.”
    “Not one for a lot of words, but when we told him about The Missus last week, he was concerned. You could see it.”
    “Yes you could.”
    He lived directly across the street from Edson Darby-Deaver, and they’d be cleaning his house the next morning. It always made Tuesday mornings just a little bit magical, and made up a little for the creepiness of Tuesday afternoons, when they had to go into Miss Frieda’s house.
    They bit into their sandwiches in tandem.

Chapter 4
     
    Edson was troubled the rest of the day. He liked the Brinkers, in the dispassionate way you like neighbors you don’t know intimately. He’d been secretly happy for them when Frieda had finally released them and gone her way to whatever awaits, and finding that she wouldn’t go away after all was disappointing – but exciting. A lot of wild stories came his way, but legitimate hauntings were rare.
    But that was selfish. He wasn’t doing this for himself. He was doing it for Ben and Dolores. And assuming her soul had bound itself to this plane for the wrong reasons, he was doing it for Frieda, too. He’d send her on her way, whether she wanted to go or not.
    He had resources. He had contacts. If he couldn’t handle it alone, he knew where to go for help. Not Teddy. He was just a showman, and as for Porter . . . Ed smiled evilly, thinking of Porter confronted with the smoldering ghost of Frieda. The dog was basically a hyperactive, slap-happy creature who didn’t know his own strength. As for sniffing out ghosts, there was only one occasion when Ed suspected he actually had, and his reaction had been to try to play with it.
    Edson thought harder, narrowing his eyes to slits. The Pendragons were always willing. Then he frowned. The husband-and-wife pair of physical mediums would do anything if they could get a book out of it, and then they’d try to muscle him out of the contract. No, not the Pendragons. They had a high profile in the paranormal community and were slick when it came to getting media attention, which was exactly why Ed didn’t like them. He suspected several of their biggest “gets” to be deliberate hoaxes, yet