Murder at the Holiday Flotilla by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter Read Free Book Online

colors her hair a warm brown, eats healthy foods, and walks two miles every day, rain or shine.
    “ Who’s a silver cougar?” I asked, amused by my aunt.
    “ Over there.” She nodded in the direction of a man across the room.
    I looked where she was staring at the man she thought was a silver cougar. He was the same man I had seen jabbing an angry finger into Senator Henry’s lapel. But even though Aunt Ruby had got her appellations confused, she was right. Here in the light I could see that he was a hunk. About mid-forties. Trim yet masculine, exuding sensuality. His premature silver hair was thick and full, contrasting attractively with his black brows and flashing black eyes.
    “ He’s got testosterone by the gallons,” I said. Not someone the older senator should be taking on.
    “ Bet he has a hard time keeping his zipper up,” Aunt Ruby declared.
    “ Aunt Ruby!” I cried with fake indignation. But I was giggling too. My aunt was something.
    “ Don’t be shocked. I’ve had seventy years of observing men. I know a cougar when I see one. Why do you think I chose darling Binkie Higgins to marry?”
    “ Aunt Ruby, you slay me. But I think cougar is meant to refer to a mature woman who is hot. Like you, my dear auntie. I believe you mean he is a silver fox. But who is he? Do you know?”
    “ I don’t but let’s find out,” she said and started off. “If he was raised right, he’ll be courteous to an old lady.”
    “ Old lady, my eye,” I giggled to myself as I trailed along behind my aunt.
    She walked straight up to the hunky man in the tight jeans and fisherman’s knit sweater. “Such a pleasant party,” Aunt Ruby said to him. “I’m Ruby Chastain Higgins, Melanie’s aunt.”
    I moved to her side, squeezing in between her and Mr. Hunk. “And this is Melanie’s sister, Ashley Wilkes.”
    Mr. Hunk shifted his drink to his left hand and gave Aunt Ruby his right. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Higgins. I’m Wren Redfield. One of Melanie’s realtor friends.”
    For someone who had just come out on the short end of the stick in an angry quarrel with a state senator, he had certainly composed himself quickly. He was suave and as Aunt Ruby had predicted exhibited perfect manners.
    “ I think I met your wife earlier,” I said. “Regina is your wife, isn’t she?”
    “ I am,” Regina said pleasantly, appearing from out of nowhere, then taking possession of Mr. Hunk by linking her arm through his.
    “ They’re coming!” someone shouted from outside.
    The flotilla was underway. The staging area for fancifully decorated fishing boats and pleasure craft was located nearby at the Bradley Creek Marina, practically at Melanie’s back door.
    Along with the other guests, I rushed out to Melanie’s patio. I cast about for Jon, pleased to find he was there and had saved us a chaise lounge under the pergola. Big enough for two. “Hey there, handsome,” I greeted, ruffling his hair. “Let me squeeze in there with you.”
    He looked up at me and grinned. “Sorry, Miss, but I’m saving this seat for the mother of my children.”
    I squeezed in between his legs and leaned back against his chest. As I rested my arms on his muscular thighs I almost couldn’t blame the sitter for having designs on him. I couldn’t wait to get him home. “Isn’t this cozy. You make a mighty fine cushion, sir.”
    The flotilla sailed up the Intracoastal Waterway so close I felt I could reach out and touch the brightly lit ships. “Oh, look, here they come,” I cried.
    No matter how often I watch the holiday flotilla, I still get a charge when the first ship comes into view. Everyone was cheering, happy voices rising to greet the Captains and their crews.
    A sailboat floated by, its mast decorated as a tall red candle, with the words “Peace on Earth” spelled out in bright green lights on its hull.
    There were exclamations of pleasure, oohs and aahs from the guests on the patio and in folding chairs out on the grassy