Dad stood up, which put him even more in my way. But at least Charlie got the hint. The big black lab scooted his front half under the bed and out of my way as I stomped past and headed for the stairs.
“We Baxters are early birds,” Dad called after me.
“I haven’t been an early bird since I was twelve.”
“We can put berries on our waffles.” My father was, of course, following me.
I stopped at the second floor landing. “No berries. No waffles. I’m going kayaking.” I bounced down the remaining flight of stairs, and pulled my binoculars from their hook at the door.
“We can eat when you get back.” Dad pointed to the binoculars. “You’re going bird watching?”
I grabbed a lifejacket out of the wicker chest on the porch and kept going.
“If we took the canoe, I could join you.”
“I’m taking the kayak.” I started dragging my kayak over to the dock.
“And if we took the rowboat, Charlie could come.”
I looked down at the dog, who had followed me onto the dock, and he wagged his tail.
“Sorry, Charlie,” I said gently and climbed into the boat. “It’s a one-seater. Single-occupancy. A phrase I am really, really, starting to appreciate.”
“Cassie, wait,” Dad said.
“For what?”
“You’re in your pajamas, girl.”
“Who’s going to see me at this hour? The geese?”
I paddled away from the dock, and Charlie jumped in to escort me out. “Even the geese will be asleep,” I told him.
He turned around and swam back to shore.
***
Turns out the geese weren’t asleep. So I guess they did see me. But the woman in the canoe definitely did not see me, even though her eyes were wide open. Because the woman in the canoe was dead.
“This is not happening,” I said.
She didn’t answer.
“Move!”
She didn’t move.
“Move, move, move, move, move!”
Nothing.
Well, if she wasn’t moving, I was. But I was a little flustered and ended up banging into her canoe a few thousand times before I finally managed to steer my kayak out of the cattails and into open water.
I left her there unattended. Because, as she had so clearly demonstrated, dead people don’t move.
***
“Please don’t be dead,” I said as I crawled out of my kayak and onto the dock of the Lake Store. I staggered barefoot up the side stairwell and pounded on Oliver Earle’s door.
Nothing.
I tried to estimate the time and decided it had to be at least 5:30. And the store opens at 6:00.
“Don’t be dead,” I said as I retraced my steps downward. I pounded on the back door of the store, and Oliver answered.
“Thank God you’re not dead.”
“What?” he asked. “Why would I be dead?”
“Why would anyone be dead?” I pushed past him and made my way through the stock room.
“Cassie, wait.” He hurried to catch up. “Has something happened to Bobby?”
“My father’s fine.” I barged through the swinging doors leading onto the main floor. “He’s making waffles.”
“What?”
I stopped at the deli counter. “With berries.”
Oliver skipped a beat. “Do you need eggs? Is that why you’re here so early?” He pointed. “In your pajamas.”
I looked down at my outfit—pajamas and a lifejacket—and muttered a colorful word. “We need the sheriff,” I said and rushed along the bread aisle toward the front counter.
“Sheriff Gabe? Why?”
“Because that’s who you call in an emergency, right?” I pointed at the phone. “So please call the sheriff.”
“But why?”
“Because!” I said. “There’s a dead woman in the lake!”
“Dead!” Oliver grabbed the phone. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Unbelievable is available at Amazon.
Unexpected – Sneak Peek
Chapter 1
“Poof! The intergalactic tracker gasket’s gone completely kaput, girl.”
“The what?” I looked up to see my father and his dog standing in the doorway. “Say what?”
“The intergalactic tracker gasket,” Dad repeated as if that would clear it up.
And here’s a scary thought. It did.
I set aside the midterm exams I was grading and asked if the tracker thingamajig was some big important piece of the Spaceship Destiny. “Like the GPS?”
“It’s teeny-tiny, but yes. The tracker gasket is the crucial component of the Destiny’s navigation system.” Dad shook his head. “This latest mishap leaves Chance Dooley in quite a pickle.”
I glanced at Charlie, and the dog and I both tried not to laugh. Let’s just say, we’re used to this kind of thing. Chance Dooley, the absurd hero of my father’s absurd science fiction stories, is almost always in a pickle, almost always because his Spaceship Destiny is almost always on the blink. Also typical—my father was upstairs on my turf seeking help with his latest plot twist.
I promised I’d ponder the pickle and pointed to the phone he held. “Who’s that?”
“Not who. What. Without the intergalactic tracker gasket, the Destiny is grounded until further notice.” Dad grimaced. “This could put Chance out of business.”
“I’ll put you out of business, Bobby!” I heard from the phone.
“Is that really Sarah Bliss?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s really Sarah Bliss!” Sarah screamed.
“She wants to talk to you,” Dad said as I jumped up.
I snatched the phone. “You drive me nuts, old man.”
“You are nuts,” Sarah informed me. “Remember me, babe?”
How could I forget?
“Listen up,” she continued. “Get your skinny little butt down here. Like, now. And when you get here, go along with anything I say. Any. Thing. You got it?”
Not really, but I owed Sarah. I told her I was on my way, pushed my father aside, and started down the stairs.
“To the sheriff’s office?” I asked. “Are you at work?”
“Earth to Cassie Baxter.” She banged her phone on something, and I flinched. “Where else would I be? And be sure to change out of your pajamas this time. You got it?” She hung up, and I stopped mid-step to stare at the phone.
Dad and Charlie bumped into me. “Is she at the sheriff’s?” Dad asked.
“Where else?” I handed him the receiver and raced down the rest of the stairs.
Oh, and for the record, I was not in my pajamas. It was one o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, and I was fully clothed, thank you very much. But Sarah did have a point—a long story which I will have to explain later.
I threw a jacket over the moth-eaten sweater I was wearing, grabbed my purse, and told my father I had an errand to run.
“With Sarah?” Dad and Charlie followed me to the porch. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes,” I said and headed for my Honda.
Unexpected is available at Amazon
Still curious?
Here's the scoop on Cindy Blackburn's other popular series, the Cue Ball Mysteries. Jessie Hewitt may be a bit older and wiser than Cassie Baxter, but she can still find trouble. Just ask uber-hunky cop Captain Wilson Rye.
The Cue Ball Mysteries
Murder meets menopause. Take a guess which wins.
Book One: Playing With Poison
Pool shark Jessie Hewitt usually knows where the balls will fall and how the game will end. But when a body lands on her couch, and the cute cop in her kitchen accuses her of murder, even Jessie isn’t sure what will happen next. Playing With Poison is a cozy mystery with a lot of humor, a little romance, and far too much champagne.
Book Two: Double Shot
Jessie Hewitt thought her pool-hustling days were long gone. But when über-hunky cop Wilson Rye asks her to go undercover to catch a kill
er, she jumps at the chance to return to a sleazy poolroom. Jessie is confident she can handle a double homicide, but the doubly-annoying Wilson Rye is another matter altogether. What's he doing flirting with a woman half his age? Will Jessie have what it takes to deal with Tiffany La-Dee-Doo-Da Sass and solve the murders? Take a guess.
Book Three: Three Odd Balls
A romantic vacation for . . . five? This wasn’t exactly what Jessie and Wilson had in mind when they planned their trip to the tropics. But when Jessie’s delightfully spry mother, Wilson’s surfer dude son, and Jessie’s rabidly hyperactive New York agent decide to tag along the fun begins. What kind of trouble can these three oddest of odd balls possibly get into? Take a guess.
Book Four: Four Play
Bad news comes in . . . fours? For romance author and former pool shark Jessie Hewitt it does. She hasn’t written a decent sex scene in months, she hasn’t shot a decent game of eight ball all year, and don’t even ask about her supposed love life. Just when Jessie thinks things can’t get any worse, a body lands on her car. Altogether infuriating cop Wilson Rye suggests she concentrate on solving her other problems and leave the murder investigation to the experts. Does Jessie agree? Take a guess.
Book Five: Five Spot
At long last! Jessie Hewitt, a.k.a. Adele Nightingale, is about to be take her rightful spot in the Romance Writers Hall of Fame. Wilson Rye, much to his chagrin, has his own role to play at the meeting where Jessie will finally be inducted. But things don’t go exactly as planned. How can a conference named Happily Ever After take such a wrong turn? Take a guess.
Book Six: Six Easy Pockets
Pool shark Jessie Hewitt likes to call the shots. But apparently her two best friends didn’t get that memo. Candy Poppe has taken up with the wrong man. And Karen Sembler? She’s been kidnapped! Jessie’s no-nonsense husband, Wilson Rye the cop guy, suggests she leave the crime-solving to the experts and the love lives to those involved. Does Jessie listen? Take a guess.
Six Easy Pockets is loaded with all the humor, mayhem, and mystery Cindy Blackburn’s fans have come to expect. But this one also includes a millionaire, a mansion, and a princess! Enjoy!
And never fear! There will be more! Cindy’s always writing, so you can look forward to more adventures starring either pool shark Jessie Hewitt or Miss Looney Tunes, Cassie Baxter! Hope you enjoy them ALL!!
Acknowledgements
Where would I be without friends like these? I hate to think of it! Here are a few of the people who helped make Undisclosed happen. First, I’ll give a shout-out to my super-duper dentist, Dr. Virginia Gregory. Dr. Gregory practices in Charleston, SC, and she and her staff, Shae White and Amy Thames, were so helpful and patient (no pun intended) with me and my questions about teeth! Another person who really knows her stuff is realtor Sharalyn Kluke. A top-notch agent in Seneca, SC, (and one of my book club buddies), Sharalyn answered a bunch of confusing questions about the real estate business. Thanks to all these women for their expertise in their chosen professions. I also appreciate the following people, who continue to support and encourage my writing: Peter Lacey, Joanna Innes, Sharon Politi, Cheryl Barkley, Beverly Boudreau, Traylor Rucker, Linda Lovely, Ellis Vidler, Polly Iyer, Howard Lewis, Sally Handley, Diana Manley, Judy Buch, Wayne Cameron, Caroline Miller and Karen Phillips (who designed all of my book covers. She is the best!) And, of course, I thank John Blackburn most of all. Where would I be without him? Nowhere good, I am sure.
About the Author
Cindy Blackburn is living the dream! She spends her days sitting around in her pajamas, thinking up unlikely plot twists and ironing out the quirks and kinks of lovable characters. When she’s not typing on her laptop or feeding her fat cat Betty, Cindy enjoys taking long walks with her cute hubby John. A native Vermonter who hates snow, Cindy divides her time between the south and the north. Most of the year you’ll find her in South Carolina. But come summer she’ll be on the porch of her lakeside shack in Vermont. Yep, it’s a place very similar to Lake Elizabeth.
Cindy’s favorite travel destinations are all in Europe, her favorite TV show is The Big Bang Theory (Yes, she knows it’s over, but she remains addicted to the re-runs), her favorite movie is Moonstruck, and her favorite color is purple. Cindy dislikes vacuuming, traffic, and lima beans.
www.cbmysteries.com
@cbmysteries
Undisclosed Page 25