Killer Summer by Lynda Curnyn (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

Tom turned from his stirring briefly. “There’re some Baggies in the top drawer right there,” he said, gesturing to a small pantry cabinet.

“Baggies?”

He raised an eyebrow. “For the poop?”

“Oh, right,” I replied, suddenly remembering that my mission was not simply to escape Tom-in-a-Towel but to possibly provide a little relief for Janis, who was now tugging full throttle at the leash I’d snapped on her.

I opened the drawer, pulled at least three bags from the box I found (I wasn’t taking any chances with a dog this size) and headed out the door.

Once I got to the top of the wooden walkway that led to the beach and saw the ocean rolling toward me in crashing white waves, I remembered the other reason Sage had managed to prod me into taking this share. I loved the beach. Had spent half my childhood on it, mostly with Sage and sometimes Nick, when Nick realized being the only guy among girls might be an asset. And later, with Myles, who grew up two towns away from me on Long Island, though we hadn’t ever met until we both lived in New York City. That was another thing that had drawn me to Myles: He understood the angst of growing up in the shadow of Manhattan. The hollowness of claiming native New Yorker status when you knew no two islands could be more different than Long Island and the island of Manhattan. Myles had strolled along this very beach with me once…

Now, as I stepped on the sand, felt the breeze in my face, all I could remember was that walk along the beach with Myles. I even started to relish the memory a bit, and I might have enjoyed it even more if Janis didn’t seem hell-bent on taking us straight into the tide.

“Whoa!” I yelled, tugging back on the leash. Whoa? That was a horse command. Despite all my recent experience with the dogs of the Washington Square Park dog run, I couldn’t think of the command for stop. So I went for the obvious. “Stop!”

Surprisingly, Janis did stop. Though I wasn’t sure it was my plea that did it as I watched her raise her face into the wind, then drop her nose to the sand, sniffing furiously for a moment. And just when I thought she was going to give me a reason to whip out those bags I’d stuffed in the pocket of my jeans, she took off at a dead run.

“Janis!” I yelled, pulling hard against the leash. Then I remembered the appropriate command. “Heel! Heel, Janis, heel!”

Not that it did me any good. Janis would not be heeled. So I started to run right along with her. I really didn’t have a choice. Besides, the last thing I needed right now was to lose Maggie’s beloved dog. Especially after the coriander fiasco.

Just as I was starting to get comfortable with the idea of a late-night jog—I did, after all, like to run, though usually in sweats and not jeans—I realized we were almost to Saltaire, the next town over. 1 didn’t know how much stamina this dog had, but I wasn’t going any farther than Kismet, I thought, as I eyed the lonely tuffs of dune grass we passed.

Spooky.

I kept my gaze on the beach in front of me and then was sorry for it when I caught sight of pale white skin in the tide. I quickly looked away, embarrassed. Oh, God, some happy couple was doing a little romantic From Here to Eternity roll in the tide. And if I didn’t get Jams to heel, I was soon going to be right on top of them.

“Jams, heel!” I said. But Janis only ran faster, and just when I feared I was about to become an unwanted third to the twosome in the tide, I realized it wasn’t a twosome. Just one person. A woman. And judging by the way her skin glowed pale against the darkness, she was naked.

What the hell…?

Suddenly the leash flew out of my grip, and I watched in horror as Janis became smaller and smaller, practically disappearing against the darkness. Shit! I started to run faster, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was happening in the tide.

finally caught up, but only because Janis had come to a dead stop, letting out a howl that sent a shiver through me as I looked down on those sightless eyes, wide and blue, staring up at me.

Maggie.

Naked. Her hair matted with seaweed.

And, from the look of things…

Dead.

Chapter Five

Maggie

It’s all over but the shouting.

My funeral depressed me. Not because I was the main event, but precisely because I wasn’t there. Not really. First there was the priest, who kept calling me Margaret. I guess that’s what it said on my birth certificate, though no one has ever called me that except my mother, and I hadn’t seen her for years. It was nice of her to come, though the way she stood huddled in the corner with two of my brothers, sobbing like an idiot, embarrassed me. But at least someone was crying. Outside of Zoe, which was pretty weird, since the girl barely even knew me. The other surprise was Sage, who I discovered was behind the big wreath of lilies by the coffin. Probably out of guilt.

Tom, of course, was the perfect host, though I hadn’t seen him shed a tear yet. But that was Tom. Onward and upward. Life goes on, etc., etc. I know I made some mistakes in my life. Some pretty damn big ones, too. But watching Tom greet people, dry-eyed, accommodating, I wondered if perhaps the biggest mistake of them all had been marrying him.

He didn’t even remember to put a rock ballad in the funeral program. I always loved a good rock ballad. Funerals are such dull affairs. I thought a little Queen might liven things up. Or even something more rousing, like Rod