Gator Wave by David F. Berens (A Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Book 8 )
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.9MB
Troy Bodean hopes that the picturesque Islamorada gives him the rest he desperately seeks.
But there’s a surly mama gator terrorizing the quirky island town. She’s killed a mafia boss’s son, a cross-dressing dancer from Key West, and a Fantasy Fest tourist all in one week. The feds and a nosy, local journalist think it’s the work of the infamous Cowboy Killer—wanted for a murderous rampage up and down the coast.
Leave it to Troy Bodean to get tangled up in this mangrove of a mess and become the scapegoat for all the dead bodies piling up. Yup, you guessed, it, everyone thinks he’s the notorious killer in the hat.
If the reporter catches him, he’ll be on the front page.
If the authorities catch him, he’ll go to jail.
If the Caparelli Mob catches him, he’ll be at the bottom of the gulf in a pair of concrete shoes.
But none of them will get him if the gator gets him first.
Gary John Suskind walked forward ahead of Matty in high-knee style steps, dragging the construction-sign orange kayak across the top of the swamp. It was hard work for Gary, who had never been accused of being strong, or hardy for that matter. He’d broken three manicured nails on his right hand already and knew Madame Teresa up on Tavernier would be most upset that he’d treated her immaculate work with such … disparagement. And, to beat it all, he’d put an inch long gash in his left thigh scraping up against a broken limb of one of the God-forsaken spidery trees that threatened to trip him with every step. He’d have to look into some micro-stitches for that. It wouldn’t do to have an unsightly scar marring his buttery tan skin—thanks to Madame Teresa’s Mystic Tan Kyss spray booth. A blemish of that kind would send his Instagram followers dropping off by the thousands. He sighed inwardly. A small price to pay to get close to the subject of his unrequited infatuation. He planned to change the unrequited part of his flirtation today.
He suspected that Matty wasn’t gay, but without direct confirmation of the fact, he proceeded to woo him with lunch dates, seemingly innocuous—but actually meaningful—gifts, and outdoor excursions like this one. In a kayak, there would be ample opportunity to squeeze his thighs around Matty and maybe a chance to fake a fall from the boat and grab him around the chest. Hmmm, wonder if my future lover would give me mouth-to-mouth if I should happen to drown? Gary thought. He resolved to keep his options open. Suddenly, with a splash, he was knee deep in a watery void in the marsh. He squealed more effeminately than he intended and lurched sideways. The kayak kept him from going under, but he was now sopping wet.
“You okay up there?” Matty called from behind him.
Gary slapped on a smile. “Oh, yeah. All good. Just getting kinda deep up here. Maybe we should get in now.”
“Whatever you say.”
Gary pulled himself up into the back of the kayak and Matty tumbled into the front. The boat rocked violently back and forth until Gary, who tried in vain to counteract Matty’s motion, lost his balance and splashed out into the marsh again.