Kindle Edition
Amazon
Nancilagarenne.com
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Blue bottle press
Type: Fiction
Pages: 287
Copyright: October 7, 2031
ISBN-13: 9798472079846
Price: $114.99 (eBook)
The sequel to Cheap Fish is here! Dragger is back, a now retired "Salty," a commercial fisherman; he has returned to Montauk. But there's murder happening in the fishing surfing hamlet. Did he come home too soon or not soon enough?
Dragger Delray has returned to Montauk. A Salty, his whole life spent on the sea commercial fishing, is long over. No one with Montauk in their blood can stay away forever. It’s been six years since Dragger left for Key West, and he’s back. The thing is, Montauk’s changed. And yet in some ways, it’s like he never left. Hometowns never let you forget who you were and his roots go deep. Like with Em, who ran a Mermaid boat/brothel with him. Her new business is Pancakes. Don’t even get Dragger started on what that means these days. And there’s Cian who showed up back in town dredging up a history with more than one Montauk man and a twin sister with a split personality who leaped off a cliff six years ago. Enter Wyatt, a soon to be retired city cop with a desire to chill out in Montauk and find some fun. Until he reads the local headline in The East Hampton Star. How did a hamlet with a surfing, fishing, sunset watching, paddle boarding vibe, become a hotbed for murder?
Excerpt
Chapter One
I’m not dead. That might disappoint a few people but I’m not here to make everyone fucking happy. Driving into Montauk, six years after I jumped ship for The Florida Keys, I slowed down and drank in the iconic view. The ocean, my lover for years, never disappointed me. I sucked in the salty air through my open window. I’d missed the place more than I’d let myself believe in my self-imposed exile. “Montauk, Dragger is back.” I headed over the crest, due east. The Oceanside Motel was no more. No smiley face on the facade of the refurbished building. Everything was painted dead white and there were hammocks in front of the rooms. Eye roll. I passed the IGA and noticed Montauk General Store on the left. That was new, but tasteful. Obviously, a nod to the past, I could live with that. Locally owned, I’d wager. I wondered if they had any coffee brewing, but I kept driving. Johns Drive- In was still there, same old, same old, cranking out Big John burgers no doubt, and the best ice cream cones anywhere. My mouth was watering. Across the street was…what the… a “French Bistro”? Ooh la and what the fuck? Zum was history. Plenty of memories there. And I didn’t remember much back when Jack and I were tighter than a clam’s ass. Those days are long gone. RIP Jack Daniels.
Montauk was obviously up for sale. It was inevitable. Rents climbed and people with mucho dinero were willing to pay big for a slice of Paradise Pie. Speaking of pie, Pizza Village never changed, same place, same bat channel, still dishing out slices and pies for another generation. Real estate was sizzling hot. A little shack on Navy Road, attached to other little shacks, was going for a cool million. Whatever the market will bear. How does anyone stay and raise their family and keep their business? Many didn’t from the amount of For Sale signs and the obvious tear downs and rebuilds. Saltboxes replaced by motherfucking mansions. What are these people going to do when the aquifer is fucked? Guess nobody really cares. I ain’t no tree- hugger, but science doesn’t lie, man. More people on a fragile island, you got problems, brother.
Some folks sold and went south. North Carolina, Myrtle Beach. And Florida, otherwise known as Death’s Waiting Room.
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