Vanishing Laura

By Habu

When sexy urban cowboy charcoal artist Cal du Pont drives into the Delaware ocean resort of Fenwick Island in his vintage Corvette convertible and settles in an ocean-front bungalow, he sets the hearts and libidos of redheaded gift shop owner CeCe Collins and waitress Gail Stanley aflutter. He also sets the teeth of black lesbian policewoman Reba on edge. When a mysterious strawberry blonde arrives in town and seeks out the help of Reba, a murder mystery is afoot set off by the haunting lyrics of the song “Laura.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: BarbarianSpy
• Release date: Aug 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781925190540

Habu

Habu is one of the pen names of a former supersonic spy jet pilot, intelligence agent, male model, movie actor, and diplomat. A wild youth in South East Asia was spent enjoying whatever sexual opportunities came his way, and much of his gay male writing is about recalling incidents from those days and inventing ones he’d perhaps have liked to experience. He now leads a very quiet and ordinary life.Check out our blog and get free stories. Feedback and reviews are always appreciated.

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WARNING: This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. Contains graphic MF sex, multiple partners, anal sex, and lesbian love all of which may be considered offensive by some readers.

All sexually active characters in this work are at least 18 years of age.

This book is copyright © 2015

habu asserts his right to be known as the author of this work.

Published by BarbarianSpy in 2015

Cover design © BarbarianSpy 2015

Cover image: manipulated, woman, Copyright: Nick Dale

ISBN: 978-1-925190-54-0

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review or article, without written permission from the author or publisher.

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

All characters in this book are the product of the author’s imagination and no resemblance to real people, or implication of events occurring in actual places, is intended.

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Vanishing Laura

A Murder Mystery

habu

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Contents

Vanishing Laura

About the Author

Vanishing Laura

Now, isn’t that a honey?

Yep, a classic Corvette. Ridin’ in style, Reba said. This was her two-hour shift in running foot patrol down the mid-island section of Delaware’s Fenwick Island, south on the Coastal Highway, and then over to Bunting on the ocean side to come back up. She always stopped here at Fenwick Gifts in the middle of her rounds to share a cuppa with the shop’s owner, CeCe Collins. Being able to take her time and being encouraged to stop and converse with the local merchants were the only perks the policewoman was able to enjoy of the community council’s decision to get the cops out of their patrol cars and on foot on the street. Reba, short, muscular, mannish, and bitter-chocolate black, stopped here for CeCe, not the coffee. Not that CeCe was responding with more than her usual smooth friendship and the glowing smile she blessed everyone with who came by her shop.

I was referring to the hunk who unfolded himself from that sports car and is entering the Island Diner, CeCe said, with a tinkling laugh.

Reba liked CeCe’s laugh. She liked everything about the voluptuous, late fortyish woman with the curly and flowing auburn hair and a style that allowed her to bring off hoop earrings and spike heels. But Reba also had known that CeCe was speaking of the hunk, a cowboy in the city, complete with checkered cotton shirt covering a lanky, yet muscular, torso, worn jeans, and cowboy boots. Reba gauged him to be maybe in his mid thirties, carrying himself confidently, and, despite the Western garb, reeking of New York City money. Coming south for a quieter beach, no doubt. A writer or something?

OK, you’re right, Reba said, with a sigh. "He’s one hunk all right. I think he’s rented that two-bedroom ocean-front bungalow back of us on Bunting. The one that’s holding out against those condos eating up the waterfront on either side. If so, he’s well heeled. That house goes for nearly two thousand a week. That’s where he’s living unless there are two silver, late-sixties Corvette convertibles being parked on Bunting. I saw that car in front of the bungalow on my