The Silver Lake Murder Gregg Matthews (i can read book club TXT) 📖

He watches as Lester digs the oars into the water as deep as he can with all his strength, he pulls with his arms and pushes his core body backward. Blake can feel the muscles in his body ache. It’s been a few minutes of rowing for Lester. He can see Lester twisting his body around trying to make eye contact with him. He can see he already regrets volunteering to row; he wants to take a break from rowing. Blake looks the other way.

“We are close, a few more minutes,” Blake says, feeling the boat moving forward.

“Arr,” Lester groans.

The boat is closing the distance between itself and the island. The boat struggles to hit land, but it does. The island is surrounded by little rocks; that is where the name comes from. A couple of rocks hit the bottom of the boat, and the boat makes contact with the shore of Little Rock Island. Blake ties the rope from the front of the boat to the closest pine tree. Lester groans, he falls over to the right side of the boat and takes a rest. Billy is sitting in the back of the boat. There are several similar boats tied off around their boat. Blake looks inside the other boats and doesn’t see any life jackets in their boats either. He grabs the cooler and puts it on the ground. He knows Billy and Lester do not drink. He drinks but not this much. The beer and whiskey are to get someone talking about what happened to Cindy Flynn.

Pulling the boat up as far as he can to make sure it doesn’t drift off. Billy and Lester stand quietly next to him. He realizes neither one of them are going to be much help. He needed them both to come with him so they can see what is going on. He, Billy, and Lester, begin to walk through the woods closer to the fire. Classic rock from a radio can be heard in the same direction as the fire. Looking up ahead, he can see several local people standing around a bonfire. Next to the fire, there is a pile of sticks, branches, and logs stacked up high. The people around the fire stack the wood high so they don’t have to go on a wood run later in the night when it is dark out. He walks closer to the fire and puts the cooler down. Billy and Lester walk up next to him after throwing some logs and sticks onto the pile of wood next to the fire. He grabs an ice-cold beer for himself and another one for someone he is going to try to make friends with. He notices one of the young men standing at the fire is large and muscular. The young man is wearing tan work boots, cut-off jean shorts, and a T-shirt. He has a full head of dark hair and a beard. He watches as the man finishes his beer. He throws him one of his beers. The man catches it.

“Thanks!”

“No problem,” Blake says.

The fire has an orange glow at the bottom with some large logs at the base. The red flames are up a little higher. The fire is about five feet in circumference and five feet high. He can see the people are trying to keep the fire small earlier in the night. There are large rocks in a circle ten to twenty feet around. He assumes the pile of wood next to the fire will be the size of the fire later in the night. The fire has a good base right now, but it is not raging. The closer he stands next to the fire, the fewer mosquito bites he gets.

Looking around the fire, he sees several coolers full of beer and several people he thinks he knows. The men and women around the fire are all wearing canvas sneakers, cutoff jeans, and T-shirts. Some have long sleeve flannel shirts tied around their waist. There are several men and three women. He holds steady until people get used to him standing there.

“Blake Rivers?” someone from the group says.

“Yes,” Blake says.

“Where have you been?”

“Me and Rose moved down south for a while, and now I am back. I opened a new shop called Rivers Tattoo.”

“Hurricane Katrina wiped you out, right?”

“What is your name?”

“Scott, you went to school with my younger brother, Steve.”

“Oh yes, I remember Steve.”

The conversation dies down, and the people around the fire keep drinking. He, Billy, and Lester talk quietly amongst themselves. He is trying to kill some time until the alcohol loosens some lips.

“How much longer, Blake?” Billy whispers.

“All night, if we have to,” Blake says angrily.

The sun sets off the back of the lake, bringing a greater need for the fire. The water looks darker and more dangerous from the island. The shoreline looks further away without the sunlight. He buys his time drinking his beer, making small talk with a few of the people.

“What are you doing here?” one of the women at the fire says.

“Same as you,” Blake says.

“I think you’re looking for something. Since you are here with Billy Flynn, I think you’re looking to find out what happened to Cindy Flynn.”

“Can someone tell me what happened to her? We have an idea but want to be sure.” Blake says.

“No one here is going to say anything. Everyone here either works for Luke or owes Luke money.”

“So, you are more loyal to Luke than you are to Cindy. You knew her your whole life.” Blake says intensely.

“Not what I said,” the woman says, lowering her head.

Some more time passes, and darkness settles in, more logs are thrown on the fire, the fire now rages into the night. The alcohol from the coolers has taken hold of most of the people, and they are getting sloppy. He is doing his best to not lose his temper. He is hoping someone will tell him something useful.

Billy is lying down on the