Excerpts from the Mackenzie Wilder/Classic Boat mysteries i

from book 1                             watch the book trailer

Where the Bodies Lie BuriedwblbFrtcvr

“If one of my boats wore out and I absolutely couldn’t fix it, I’d give it a Viking funeral. That’s what I’d do.”

“How on earth do you give a boat a Viking funeral?”

“I’d set it up on the water. I’d remove anything from it that wouldn’t burn safe — like the leather upholstery, and the engine and so on. Then, I’d pull it out into the water, and I’d set it on fire. Let it be its own funeral pyre.”

“What if it floated back to shore or something. Couldn’t someone get hurt?”

“Okay, anchor it then. Let it burn itself out. Point is, I wouldn’t be polluting the river with stuff that won’t ever break down. Plus, a wooden boat is more dignified, more classy than those stupid things. It deserves a dignified ending.”

“Sure, Mackenzie, sure.”

“Are you patronizing me?”

“Who, me?”

I’d seen enough for now. As irritated as I was by that abandoned boat, I was also excited by how ’PsyKe’ was running on the Hudson. This was going to be great. I swung the boat around to starboard and began the run back to the Boat Club. It was faster going back, with the current pushing us along. I let the speed creep up, still alert for more floating logs and debris. As I scanned the water, I came back to our other conversation.

“Brooke, I know you mean what you say, but we would need hard proof. Even I need some convincing Pop didn’t push the hard stuff some of the time The troopers think he killed somebody! They don’t have any trouble at all believing he helped move hard drugs.”

“Well — oh, I don’t know how to prove it. It’s not like you can call all the people who hung out with him and ask!”

I steadied the wheel as the current pushed the boat towards the mainland. I wasn’t too sure about what lay beneath the surface yet. “You know, I could almost do that. Except it would be too embarrassing for all of us.”

“What? How? I mean, I could give you a few names, but like you say…”

“No, actually, I have a sort of… list.” I throttled back again. We were coming along behind the buildings on the north end of Main Street.

“What kind of list?”

“Um, a list of people Pop sold stuff to.”

“He kept a LIST?? ”

“Yeah, crazy, huh?”

“You aren’t kidding crazy!” She drummed her hands on her thighs. “You know what, though? We couldn’t call them up, but, well, couldn?’t you check their medical records? See if there was any sign of hard drug use?”

There were those records in the back closet.

continue reading excerpts …

Sweet Corn, Fields, Forever (book 2)

Flying Purple People Seater (book 3)