Storm Roll by Kathy Garthwaite

Author:Kathy Garthwaite [GARTHWAITE, KATHY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-17T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“It’s all your fault,” Margaret howled. The sound warped down the line like a boom of thunder.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Savannah screeched back.

“They’re your friends.”

“Who?”

“David and Jackie.”

“So?”

“So, they said it was Gregory who killed Elsie. Now he’s been arrested.” Margaret slammed down the phone.

Savannah moaned and slithered down the wall, rubbing at her face, tears forming. Whom could she call? She wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

Todd’s footfalls made no sound at all. He stood over her crumpled form.

“What the hell?” Her watery eyes widened.

“What’s the matter?”

“You scared me.”

“What are you doing on the floor?”

“Gregory’s been arrested.”

“Oh, my God.” Todd sniffed deeply, an edge of his lip trembling. He collapsed into the nearest armchair. “Why would he...?”

“It can’t be true.” Tears welled up anew. “I don’t believe it.”

“He was there.” His voice became icy.

“Todd.” Her chin thrust high, an unblinking gaze resting on his face. He couldn’t make eye contact.

“I’m sorry. I realize you like Gregory.” He put folded hands on the table. “But if—”

“Let’s leave it for now.” Savannah stood up and set the kettle on for tea.

* * *

Gibson took an Uber to Henley Island. He had been a spectator at the Royal Henley Regatta long ago, but now he wanted to test the waters for himself. He wandered over to the clubhouse. Racks of rowing shells hung off the outer wall. He glanced through the wide shop door. The crews had packed rows of shelves with oars, floating devises and jackets to the roof peak. A few people milled around looking busy.

“Can I help you?” An energized lad darted over.

“Sure. Where are the kayak rentals?”

“Just follow the path. There’s a shack by the dock.” He pointed to the left.

Gibson skipped diagonally over a grassy field shaded by huge trees. Visitors were picnicking on rough wooden benches, the kids playing tag. Two teenagers were attempting to fly a kite with no wind. He followed the track down stone steps to the water.

Martindale Pond shimmered in the sunlight. Several teams were skimming across the pond in eight-man boats, practicing for the upcoming events. Luckily for boaters, the reservoir created during the development of the original Welland Canal had been abandoned for their enjoyment.

Gibson set himself up with a kayak and shoved off to explore. He dipped the paddles from side to side and traveled east. Following the shoreline, he observed interesting canal ruins and a dam. He swung the boat west to Richardson Creek and stayed for a snack, leaning against the backrest, letting his face catch the full beam of the sun. From there, he paddled to the south toward Twelve Mile Creek. It was more dangerous in this section with currents churning up the water. After five hours, he was confident he had discovered the entire area and headed back to the old dock.

Gibson stopped in Port Dalhousie at Harry’s Diner. Fish and chips, a beer and a view of Lake Ontario was a good way to end a perfect day. After dinner, a friendly Uber driver took him to his motel.

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