Death on the Mississippi by Richard; Forrest Read Free Book Online

was a convincing trick you played on us,” Lyon interjected to relieve tension. “How did you do it?”
    Dalton preened. “One out-of-work actor, a tape recorder, and some radio equipment from Radio Shack. That was the easy part. It took me three nights’ work to get the magnesium placed properly outside the ballroom. Synchronizing its explosion with a trigger device was a little complicated, but worth it. If you could only have seen your faces … You really shouldn’t have destroyed my camera, Pan. That’s a no-no.”
    â€œOh, shut up!”
    â€œAt least my friends appreciate me,” Dalton said as he smiled at Bea.
    Pan went rigid. Her fists clenched as she stood angrily before her husband. “Your friends! You don’t have any friends. The Wentworths are practically the only people left on this planet who will give you the time of day. And they only see you once a year and during that time you succeed in doing perfectly dreadful things to them.”
    â€œIt will only cost a couple of hundred dollars to repair the holes in the kitchen wall that Rocco made,” Bea said.
    â€œAnd even Lyon would probably hit you if he wasn’t so grateful over that business during the war,” Pan continued.
    â€œWhat war was that?” Katrina asked.
    â€œ The War is always the one the men present fought in,” Bea said.
    â€œThat time-sharing business doesn’t sound so bad,” Lyon said in a valiant attempt to change the direction of the conversation. “Katrina gave us the full sales pitch, and the ability to swap units for a week anywhere in the world does sound intriguing.”
    Dalton harumphed. “Sure, if you care for Timbuktu in the dead of winter, or if high summer in Death Valley grabs you.”
    â€œNo one can be that cynical,” Katrina said with a laugh.
    â€œIt has nothing to do with cynicism,” the developer said. “I call it reality orientation, survival of the fittest, or as the bumper sticker on my Mercedes says, ‘He who has the most toys at the end wins.’”
    As Bobby Douglas gently docked the Mississippi on the river across from Nutmeg Hill, they saw a heavyset man in a business suit standing impatiently on the lip of the ancient pier. He had taken off his suit jacket and had it hooked over his shoulder with his finger as a foot tapped the planking. His whole body seemed to will a faster progress of the houseboat’s mooring.
    â€œWhy do I have this strong feeling that Mr. Dice wishes to have words with me?” Dalton asked.
    â€œBecause I can tell by the way he’s acting that you’ve screwed him again, darling,” Pan answered sweetly.
    â€œYonder impatient man is Randy Dice, my partner and chief financial officer,” Dalton said to Lyon. “He has this insane compulsion to make our balance sheets actually balance.”
    â€œI can’t wait to depart from this craft of joy,” Bea whispered in Lyon’s ear.
    Dice dropped his jacket and jumped to the deck of the houseboat before the lines had been secured. Bobby stood at the bow holding a coiled rope. He shrugged and leaped the short distance to the pier and began to complete the docking alone. Dice hurried toward Dalton.
    â€œYou lied to me again!” His voice cracked with intensity.
    â€œProbably,” Dalton said with his usual skewered smile. “If it’s about being the father of your children, I have already talked to your wife about that.”
    â€œI’m in no mood for your frivolous jokes. I went to the bank today.”
    â€œIt seems to me that you often go to the bank. In fact, Randy, you are always going to the bank.”
    â€œThey asked me about the sale of your West Hartford house. A clerk picked up the deed transfer during a routine check of the week’s recordings. That house was one of the items we pledged as loan collateral. I gave my word. I signed disclosure statements and