Wicked Eddies by Beth Groundwater Read Free Book Online

that?”
    â€œWhen you’re standing in the stream and start kicking up the rocks to release the nymphs and excite the fish into a feeding frenzy.”
    Kendra’s next shot pocketed the fourteen ball.
    This ‘San Juan Shuffle’ was a new concept for Mandy. “That’s against the rules?”
    â€œUsually, and it’s certainly frowned on when it isn’t explicitly in the rules,” Fred replied. “No fly-fisherman worth his weight in trout is going to admit he needs the help.”
    â€œSo if Howie was seen doing it, what happened?”
    The nine ball went whizzing by on its way into another corner pocket.
    â€œWhen the judge called him on it,” Fred said, with a worried glance at the corner pocket, “Howie came up with some lame story about getting his foot caught on a rock and losing his balance. So, the judge let him off with a warning to watch his footing in the future.”
    â€œSame way he came up with a story about having bait scent on him,” Bob added.
    Kendra put a hand on her hip. “You mean he stank? You’re not allowed to stink?”
    Bob laughed. “No, a judge found a tube of trout gel in Howie’s tackle box. A little smear of that on your fly makes it smell better to the trout. Howie’s story was that he took it away from a friend he was fishing with before the competition and forgot it was in his tackle box. Since the seal wasn’t broken, the judge had to believe him, but he confiscated the gel. If he hadn’t, I bet Howie would have used it.”
    With a clack, Kendra’s cue ball hit the ten ball. It bounced off the rail and into the opposite side pocket.
    â€œGood one.” Fred scanned the table. “Hey, you gonna leave any shots for the rest of us?”
    Grinning, Kendra moved around to the other side of the table. “Maybe.”
    Fred scowled at the two river rangers at the next pool table, who flashed wide, cocky grins back at him.
    Mandy wondered how big the bet was and hoped the fishermen, who both seemed nice, wouldn’t get fleeced too much. She turned to Bob. “Back to Howie. Has anyone seen him scouting beats before?”
    â€œNo,” Bob said. “And doing it on a weekend, when more people are likely to be on the river, was a stupid move.”
    â€œMaybe Howie was getting overconfident,” Fred said, while intently watching Kendra, “since he’d gotten away with so much cheating in the past.”
    Bob nodded. “That guy was a slippery eel, all right.”
    Kendra’s next shot missed, and she gave a little bow to Fred. “Your turn.”
    Mandy politely waited for Fred to make his shot and sink a ball before she asked, “You know anyone who was particularly put out by Howie’s cheating?”
    Bent at the waist to line up his next shot, Fred looked over his shoulder at her. “Sure, he was a slime ball, but c’mon, who would take these competitions seriously enough to kill someone over one?”
    _____
    Later when Mandy pulled her Subaru up the gravel driveway to her cottage, Rob’s battered black Ford pickup truck was already there. He’d called her cell phone at the bar to ask if he could come to her house, and she’d left after finishing the pool game. She’d sunk two balls on her turn, and when Kendra’s turn came up, she’d sunk the remaining striped ball and the eight-ball, even calling the pocket to show off.
    Before Mandy left, she checked with the river rangers at the next table and found out the bet with the fishermen hadn’t been too outrageous. She told them she didn’t like being used to scam people and suggested firmly that the rangers buy the fishermen a round of drinks with their winnings. They sheepishly agreed.
    After Mandy walked through the metal gate of her small fenced-in yard and swung it shut, she paused to look up at the star-studded sky. She stood hunched in her fleece jacket and