Beach Tale: The Sniper Sisters

It's rerun season here at the Life's a Beach Blog as my life priorities continue to weigh on the Real Estate Side.  But Friday returns with fresh content and a great beach chat and I'll be back in my writing chair from then on. But today it's a rerun.  Not just any rerun, mind you, but the very first "mystery" I ever wrote!  It has a special place in my heart and I wanted to share it with all of my new followers who have joined the rolls since the story was last published in October, 2011.  And those of you who have already read it might enjoy it again! So here's a little story I like to call...

The Sniper Sisters

 

      “It’s my turn to pull the trigger.”  Evie straddled the large fallen tree blocking the trail.  With a grunt, she hauled her left leg over and set both sensibly-clad feet on the ground, enjoying a moment’s rest as her older-by-three-minutes sister Dot struggled with the obstacle.

          “No, you knocked off Marty Knudsen last week, remember?”  Dot executed an awkward belly roll over the log, momentum carrying her until she landed in a pile of damp, decomposing leaves at Evie’s feet.

          “Of course I remember,” Evie snarled.  “Direct hit to his heart.  But you got the three before that.”  

          “Only because your shot on Alma Schaeffer went wide and took out Cuddles McGee instead.”           

          “It didn’t go wide.  I meant to shoot that damn cat.  It left two more goldfinches on my doorstep that morning.”

          Dot struggled to her feet in the wobbly, ungainly manner of a camel, then brushed the dirt off her knees.  “If I hadn’t acted quickly to take Alma out, she would have gotten us first.  You were taking too long to reload.  Not my fault you screwed up your turn.”

Beach Excerpt: THE BLOND LEADING THE BLOND

          If you are a facebook friend of mine, then you are aware that for these first three weeks in March I am involved in an INTENSE Principals of Real Estate class, which should (if all goes well) prepare me enough to pass the national exam and get my agent's license.  To that end, there is no writing go on here.  And by that I mean, no writing of any sort.  No books, no stories, no emails and especially no blog posts.  I did have the foresight to book my beach chat guests, but didn't really think about putting fingers to keyboard for my own posts.  So, I'm "cheating" a little bit by offering up an excerpt of The Blond Leading the Blond.  This is from the end of chapter four, and is written in the first person of Ellery Tinsdale, an amateur sleuth--and a most reluctant one at that--as she gets to know some of her new neighbors in Braddocks Beach, Ohio.  Enjoy!

          We ate.  We talked.  We laughed.  A lot.  Sam only had to coach me one more time on my manners. “Corn should be eaten left to right, like a typewriter,” she’d whispered in my ear when racing off to greet some late-arriving guests. Who’d a thunk? She buzzed back to our table, and with her once again seated across from me, I didn’t dare lick the basil butter from my fingers. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute.” I climbed out from under the picnic table. My dinner companions nodded. George and Doodles stood up when I did, after I felt Sam kick George under the table, that is. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who needed prompting when it came to all things mannerly.

Beach Tale: YARD OF THE MONTH

          My first gardening catalog came addressed to “Robert S. Jones or Current Resident.” That was me--Current Resident.  We’d just made our fourth move in two years in conjunction with my husband’s Naval career.  His orders were for twenty-four months.  Long enough to plant perennials.      

          I thought a showed a great deal of restraint when I limited myself to a $500 order.  A rainbow of reds, blues and yellows.  A variety of curious textures.   My home would stand out from the others in this newly-constructed cookie-cutter neighborhood.  Okay, so I would eat nothing but macaroni and cheese for two months, but with the Yard of the Month awarded by my neighborhood association came a $50 gift certificate to the hardware store, so it would offset the scales a bit.  And based on the glossy pictures of what my gardens would look like, I was a sure winner.