A mystery novel set in the Hawaiian Islands featuring sailors in key roles. First in a series.
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Molokai Reef website
Molokai Reef weaves humor, travelogue, environmental problems, sailing, and social commentary into a page turning mystery. Follow Gybe with no last name and his wacky friends, including a doobie smoking scarlet macaw, as they solve a murder mystery on the island of Molokai.
...you follow Carl Hiaasen, Dave Barry, Janet Evanovich, Tim Dorsey, etc. No, I'm not claiming to write as well as they do but I enjoy their books and incorporate wacky characters (think Barry's "Governor", Dorsey's "Serge", or Evanovich's "Grandma Mazur") into Molokai Reef.
...you are a sailor. The protagonist, Gybe, and his sidekicks in Molokai Reef are sailors. Mongoose sails a schooner, Andrea operates her business from a Lagoon 41 catamaran, Flynn singlehands a large monohull, and Gybe sails his 41' sloop. Compare Gybe with a less rigid and sailing Travis McGee.
...you visit or yearn to visit Hawaii. Set on Molokai with a side sail to Maui, the story incorporates Hawaiian history, current events, and travelogue.
...you are an environmentalist or anti-environmentalist. Without revealing the plot, genetic engineering and the Precautionary Principle play a role in Molokai Reef.
...you savor a good chuckle while reading a mystery. Meet Bill, the scarlet macaw and book marquee.
...you want to be the first on your block to discover and support a new author.
Keywords: humor, sailing, mystery, Molokai, Hawaii, liveaboard, environment, genetic engineering
Maybe the water and light were playing tricks. Gybe’s eyes traced the anchor chain from windlass, over the bow roller, and down to the water’s edge. Beneath the water, the two chimeras wavered like a reflection in a fun-house mirror.
Damn and double damn, he stepped on the button that engaged the windlass. The windlass reeled in another three feet of chain. Gybe stepped off the button and backed away from the bow.
Fifty yards to the east, he scanned the old wharf. The ocean, here behind the reef, was as still as a desert mirage. A tuft of cloud drifted across the water before impaling itself on the broken stub of the nearest piling. Ferrity sat motionless though her anchor no longer tethered her to the seafloor.
What to do? His eyes walked the shoreline from east to west, reaffirming the discoveries of his last visit. No one lived on the shoreline along the west half of the south side of Molokaʻi. When he was here last week, he had hiked an old jeep trail that paralleled the coast – the trail began at Hale o Lono harbor to the west and ended here at Kolo Wharf.