Ditched: A Lonnie Squires Mystery by Josie Gordon

Author:Josie Gordon [Gordon, Josie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Lesbian, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781594932267
Google: 2JjObwAACAAJ
Amazon: 1594932263
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2011-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

After a few minutes, I realized driving Pearl wasn’t going to be easy. Shifting went okay, but turning was nearly impossible. I pulled hand over hand against the tires. “I’ll have bulging biceps by the time we finish this trip.”

“No power steering. No power brakes either.” Marion sipped her soda. “If you have to stop fast, remember to pump ’em.”

I hoped we wouldn’t be stopping fast, or doing anything even remotely exciting with this car. I wanted to sell it to some rich collector. Take my money and run.

“Oh, goddess,” Marion mumbled, rotating her head to look at the window beside her. “Where is the seat belt?”

“Shit. I never forget my seat belt.” I slid my hand along the crease between the seat’s back and bottom.

Marion pulled two ends of a lap belt from either side of her square seat. “Just like in an airplane.”

I found the ends of my belt, but couldn’t snap them with just one hand. On the first straight stretch of road out of town, I steadied the wheel with my leg and clicked the belt together.

“You’re driving with your knee,” Marion said. “Where’d you learn that?”

“My first boyfriend. High school.”

First and last boyfriend, I almost said.

“It’s tough to get a date in Middelburg,” Marion said. “I was lucky to find Denny. You want me to get some friends from Holland to help fix you up?”

I swallowed. “I’m fine. Where to first?”

Marion glanced at her clipboard. “Grand Haven and the world’s only musical fountain!” She read silently for a minute. “It only plays at night, though, so we won’t get to see the synchronized light show.”

I glanced at the dash where a clock should be, but there was none. So I checked my watch. “We should be there before eight. Get the photo, keep moving.”

Marion glanced at me. “Are you going to be any fun on this trip?”

“No,” I said. “None.”

We drove north on U.S. 31 for about twenty minutes in silence. “There!” Marion pointed to a beached U.S. Coast Guard craft sitting in the median. “Left. There.”

Grand Haven’s downtown was bigger than Middelburg’s, but not big by any other definition. A county municipal building sat atop a hill, all whitewash and Greek columns. Neon “Open” signs flashed blue and red in the front windows of a brightly lit diner. One shop had kayaks in the front window, joined by a yellow banner announcing a Fall Clearance. Nine black mailboxes poked off the front of a three-story Victorian house, sky blue with white gingerbreading. The mailboxes didn’t belong, like zits on a chin. Clearly the old beauty had been chopped into apartments.

I braked as the street narrowed to a one-lane road in a three-block shopping area. The buildings lining the street were perfect rectangles, most brick, many with concrete ornamentation on their facades.

“Where’s the fountain?”

“The map says straight.”

The road ended in a T and the only thing I saw ahead was an old railway station of red brick and leaded windows and the channel, its water thick and gray under the morning sky.

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