Death in Amston Waters

By Larry Zimmerman

Dirk Adler and Joe Wolf plan a quiet, relaxing afternoon of beer drinking and fishing on Amston Lake. Unfortunately, they catch a body instead of a fish. Dirk decides to investigate, but in trying to keep Joe out of trouble, Dirk inadvertently becomes a suspect himself. Margot reluctantly offers suggestions and they team up to clear Dirk, uncover the motive, and find the real murderer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Zimmerman
• Release date: Jan 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9780988754614

Larry Zimmerman

Larry E. Zimmerman graduated from the University of Hartford with a major in mathematics and a minor in literature. He worked for IBM as a Technical Industry Specialist and retired after 25 years. During that time, he taught programming classes, wrote many application programs and manuals for the banking industry. In retirement, he teaches poetry and short story writing to adults and senior citizens. Larry has won a number of awards for his poetry and short stories. He is known in Amston CT, for his mystery books that take place in the local environment.

Book preview

DEATH IN AMSTON WATERS

by

Larry E. Zimmerman

Book 4 of the Amston Lake mystery series

* * * * *

Published by: Blue Pinion Enterprises at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 by Larry E. Zimmerman

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This book is available in print from Blue Pinion Enterprises. Order books from:

http://www.amstonbooks.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. The characters and animals in this story are fictional and bear no resemblance to people or animals living or dead.

Amston Lake Map

I stared into the sunless sea,

My eyes did search the deep,

For under water’s darkness found

The crypt of Devil’s keep.

From The Water Bible

By Larry E. Zimmerman

Table of Contents

Title Page and Front Matter

Map of Amston Lake

Quote

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

Other Amston Lake mysteries

Death in Amston Waters

Chapter 1

I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by hundreds of paint chip samples. They were spread out around me, sorted by color. I had finally finished the insulation, wiring, and sheet rocking in the back room. Now it was ready for painting.

Picking paint colors was proving to be the most painful element of the entire project. I thought it might be easier if I took home every paint sample from the rack at Home Depot. Instead, I was completely overwhelmed. I couldn’t tell the difference between Aqua Ice, Kiwi Squeeze and Aspen Leaf. The only thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to cover the walls with anything called Fairy Dust or Lavender Twilight.

I concluded that it would only be possible if I waited for Margot to come over and chose the color. Margot is my romantic commitment-evader girlfriend. While she was indecisive about living with me, I was certain she would have no trouble concluding that any color I picked by myself would be awful.

My Red Dog beer can was empty. I pulled myself up from the floor. My legs creaked with stiffness from being in one position too long. As I headed to the fridge for another cold one, I heard Joe Wolf’s voice.

What are you doing inside on such a beautiful day? The fish are out there just waiting to be caught.

It definitely was a spectacular summer day. I was crazy to stay inside when there was a lake, just down the road, full of large and small mouth bass, pickerel, calico bass, perch, and an endless supply of bluegills. Glancing back to the paint sample covered floor, I knew the choice was simple. To hell with the paint. Things that are more important were at hand – fishing, beer and a gorgeous day. Life doesn’t get any better than that.

I often think about life’s twists and turns. A few years ago, one of Joe Wolf’s accomplices tried to kill Margot and me. Joe had been stealing ancient maps from rare books in libraries around the United States. This very lucrative business netted him hundreds of thousands of dollars from collectors. I happened to learn about the scheme by accident (and by being nosey), and actually helped to send Joe to jail. When he was released from prison after a year, he forgave me for testifying against him. I forgave him for having a partner who tried to kill me. Now we are friends.

Joe is definitely my opposite. When my physics teacher in college discussed magnets, he noted that opposites attract. Perhaps that is why Joe and I became friends. Joe has a big house on Sunset Drive and can afford to hire contractors to do everything. I have a dumpy little cottage that I work on myself. Joe was able to hide most of the money he made selling the purloined maps, and had successfully invested a bundle in the stock market. Thus, he had no reason to work at any steady job. I live on a small retirement income and have no investments. The one thing we had in common was that we both had a lot of time on our hands for beer and fishing.

Oh yes, we do have one more thing in common. We both have beautiful women in our lives. Of course, I have the edge there. Mine is intelligent.

After 30 years as a systems programmer/analyst, I retired at the age of 55. I had checked out many lakes in Connecticut for a retirement house that I could afford. The operative words were that I could afford. Most of the houses were far beyond my price range, especially lakefront property.

I finally found a seasonal cottage in the back section of the Lebanon/Amston Lake District. It was advertised as a handyman’s delight. It sure was. As the real estate agent stated, it (obviously) needed work, work, and more work. However, now I had all the time in the world to fix it up. Being a handyman, suited me perfectly. Because it was in such bad shape, I bought it for a song. As I soon learned, the only thing that works in an old house is the owner.

The realtor told me I couldn’t live in the house the entire year because it was listed by the Town Assessor as seasonal. That fact didn’t deter me one bit. Since the house was hidden at the edge of woods on a barely accessible dirt road that didn’t even show on most maps, I was sure that no one would even know I was living there. It was worth the risk.

It didn’t take me long to grab my tackle box and rod and leave the painting in the dust or at least on the floor. I couldn’t take Wendell, my pygmy pot bellied pig, with us on the boat, so I had to put him in his pen. Wendell was busy, as usual, digging up my front yard (I no longer call it a lawn) with his nose. He was not happy to be separated from me. To show his disapproval, he trotted into his little house, turned around, showed me his butt, and oinked three times, which I interpreted as you’re a turd. Damn spoiled pig.

Joe had driven over to my place in his sleek, black Corvette convertible. His expensive car was not suited for hauling wet, dirty fishing equipment so we put our gear in the back of my dilapidated pick-up truck. I got my boat battery and motor from the shed and loaded them in the truck. I foolishly asked Joe if he had brought along any beer.

Is the Pope Catholic?

Obviously, the answer was yes. I asked what kind