Death of the Saltwater Blonde: A Miles Jordan Mystery Thriller (A Miles Jordan Mystery Thriller Series Book 1) by J. C. Ceron

Author:J. C. Ceron [Ceron, J. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gold Coast Books LLC
Published: 2022-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Log Entry

Dark clouds rolled in, conspired, and thickened during the walk back to my suite. The air smelled of fresh earth. Rain was coming. I turned for the beach hut, which was closer than my suite, and ducked under the thatched roof just as the clouds burst. Rain fell in thick lines.

On the beach, guests without huts scrambled for cover. A few sought refuge in occupied huts. One couple made themselves cozy under a strip of boardwalk. All the while, a waiter casually collected plates and glasses as if the rain were a figment of the imagination.

He wasn’t the only one the rain hadn’t chased away. A young couple in a tandem kayak was in no rush to make landfall. Wearing bright orange life vests that matched their craft, they paddled along with minimal effort. Both the man and the woman appeared to be of average build or about three hundred and sixty pounds combined. Replacing them with the one hundred-and-ten-pound Kayleigh Quinn, an average-sized suspect, and the eighty-pound dumbbell, I calculated a total weight of just under four hundred pounds, which, after checking my phone, I found was a manageable payload for a tandem kayak. If I supersized the suspect—estimating the massive Quinn at three hundred pounds—the combined weight was still a hundred pounds lighter than the maximum payload. Now, can one person paddle that weight quickly to minimize their exposure the distance from shore Kayleigh was found? Quinn certainly had the horsepower, but did he have the stamina? Could an average-size man do it?

I stretched out on one of the lounge chairs as the couple in the kayak made their way down the shoreline. The more I chewed on it, the more I liked the sleek craft for the killer’s mode of transportation. A kayak was small and quiet and likely invisible at night if painted a dark color. It wasn’t wind powered like a catamaran, which could be unreliable. A rowboat was another possibility, but not as accessible or inconspicuous as a kayak at a beach resort. With the dumbbell stashed in the front recessed seat, for example, and Kayleigh’s body draped over it, the killer could manage the paddling from the rear.

With a fierce growl, my stomach reminded me it was time for lunch. The first option was to call Hudson. The second option was to hit the nearby Jerk Pit. I decided on the latter and waited a few minutes for the rain to stop. On the way, I was drawn to a kayak left abandoned on the beach. A tug of war ensued between my curiosity and my stomach. It was a close match, vicious and relentless, both sides vying for position and leverage, my stomach gaining the upper hand and putting the Jerk Pit within striking distance, aided by the sweet aroma of burning wood and searing protein riding high in a light breeze. Then I spotted another kayak. Curiosity, which still hadn’t killed this cool cat, won. I followed a kayak

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