More Dubious Exploits of Alex and Nan

By Horton-De Wolfe

Silver-haired sleuth Alex Rayburn and one-time network journalist Nan Holloway were less than thrilled to be forced into a crime-solving partnership. After a series of exciting and successful cases, their relationship warmed – a lot. Now a couple thoroughly enjoying their seventh decade, Alan and Nan take on two of their weirdest challenges in this volume. A head in a box, accompanied by a cryptic couplet, puzzles the pair in Poetic Justice. Can Alex and Nan keep their heads and catch the culprit? To complicate things, an old family friend returns from the past to become a prime suspect. In Neighborhood Buzz, a lawn party at the Rayburn mansion, a Ferrari show, and a visit from the Governor make for a festive Fourth of July. But there’s a deadly menace in the air. When danger strikes close to home, Alex must outrace the villains to save Nan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798369411940

Horton-De Wolfe

Writing as Horton-DeWolf, Martha Horton and Alan De Wolfe have combined their varied experiences and talents to contrive "Unlikely Adventures." Horton wrote for McGraw-Hill World News and was public relations director for an international hotel company. She is also a poet, and edited a weekly newspaper in Upstate New York. De Wolfe, a native of Corning, NY, traveled the world as a contract technical Illustrator. He has published several adventure novels and is a playwright and lyricist.

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Copyright © 2024 by Horton - De Wolfe.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 12/15/2023

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CONTENTS

MORE DUBIOUS EXPLOITS OF ALEX AND NAN

PROLOGUE The Sixties – When They Were Young

1 The Present

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

EPILOG The present

MORE DUBIOUS EXPLOITS OF ALEX AND NAN

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

MORE DUBIOUS EXPLOITS OF ALEX AND NAN

Adventure Five: Poetic Justice

PROLOGUE

The Sixties – When They Were Young

E LIZABETH RAYBURN, 21, lay back in the hammock and sighed with content ment.

It was a perfect summer afternoon at Rayburn-on-the Lake. The usual assortment of family and friends spanning three generations was in residence for part of the summer and Elizabeth, or Liz as she was known from birth, declined to stir. Her reverie would not be challenged until she darned well felt like permitting any unnecessary movement.

Warm breezes rose off the lake, trailing up through the trees and swirling around the sunbather. Liz wore a white sundress which showed off her creamy tan. Her hair was long and dark and her legs were long, too – she knew the men surrounding her were periodically admiring them.

Beside her in an Adirondack chair was a family friend, Arthur Luther, now studying at Yale Law School. Art, whose parents were well known to the elder Rayburns, was destined for a fine career in law like his father. He was serious and competitive in everything he did, with an unquenchable desire for excellence. He had won the Penn Yan trophy in the Keuka Lake Yachting Association Regatta three years running. Art was poised to continue his winning ways tomorrow, but Peyton worried him.

Art’s major competition was Peyton Caulfield, now gracefully balanced on the porch railing and downing a giant iced tea. Peyton, with his untamed mop of honey-blond hair, had been Liz’s usual prom date during their high school and college years. Despite being a bit of a renegade, he exhibited an added aura of sophistication imbued by his MBA from Wharton. He was headed for an internship with Price-Waterhouse.

There was a third admirer: Ravi Kumar, an agriculture-engineering major at Cornell whom Peyton had latched onto as a crew member to try for the coveted trophy. Ravi was invited to spend the summer at the family cottage. The student from India was keenly intelligent and had a puckish sense of humor. He was making a great show of fanning Elizabeth with a pine branch in lieu of a palm frond. Liz giggled fondly. Ravi, you fool, put that thing down before you knock over the tea pitcher. Ravi countered with a prostrating Colonial-era response. Yes, Missy Lizbeth! Liz laughed and gave him her famous look.

Art, who was incapable of such horseplay, tried not to be annoyed. Unlike the rest of the group, he was not charmed by Ravi. It turned out that Ravi, in addition to his other assets, was a skilled sailor and might well do Art out of his trophy. Art viewed him with suspicion. Could he and Peyton win the race tomorrow? And more importantly, could he win Liz Rayburn? He agonized in silence while the dark and handsome citizen from Southeast Asia bantered endlessly with the others. The Rayburns were quick to point out that all people of the world were important when considering international liaisons, and that one country cannot survive without the others.

The family and guests would soon enjoy a hearty dinner at long tables set up on the dock .From the kitchen windows high above Liz’s waterfront location, enticing aromas wafted all the way to the property’s perimeter. The midday hours of swimming and boating had made everyone comfortably fatigued and anticipating the fine victuals to come. It was a quintessential Finger Lakes setting – idyllic, rustic and modern, all at the same time. Bucolic hills presented themselves in rolling mounds of deep moss green to pale yellow, like waves in the ocean, contrasting with the flat indigo-green water below.

A welcome dinner bell rang and the group sat down to a sumptuous meal of local produce. They laughed and chatted as the sinking sun blazed a golden trail across the undisturbed sheen of the lake. Liz’s younger brother, Alex, brought out his guitar and played a few familiar tunes for a sing-along. It was Alex who would someday control the family fortune. For now, he was just one of the gang.

As twilight fell, the splendid gathering wandered off to the house and adjoining cottages for a good night’s rest. Tomorrow was a big day – the annual regatta. The principle characters wanted to be primed and ready, chief among them, Arthur Luther, the reigning champ.

Sweet dreams, dear girl, Art said, taking Liz’s hand. She smiled a reply. You too, Art, then calling out to the departing Ravi, Good luck, tomorrow, Sinbad! Art was lucky to hide his irritation. For him, any sleep at all would be elusive tonight.

But with renewed vigor, the future lawyer rose early in the morning, well before the others were conscious and went about his day. The only person in sight was Pete Miller from the marina who helped maintain the Rayburn boats. Art gave the early riser an absentminded salute when he saw Pete exit the boat house. He knew that Pete had been checking the boats in preparation for the regatta. It was probably his last check before the boats gathered, and that was significant. Art would be in the boat house alone, awash in thought.

Ambling down to the water’s edge, Art, too, would do a last check and give his entry a meticulous pre-race look-over. He wondered if Ravi was awake yet – probably not – and that, he reckoned, might be Peyton’s undoing. Blind arrogance whispered in his ear. Opportunity was raging in his heart.

Art approached Peyton’s boat and made a fateful decision. Ravi just might be good enough to win this thing, he surmised. The intelligent, competitive future lawyer couldn’t chance Ravi winning the regatta for Peyton, but he would never have tampered with the deck gear if he’d known Ravi couldn’t swim.

Ravi Kumar nearly lost his life that day.

1

The Present

W ENDELL MEEKS TURNED up the heat on the top floor of Rayburn-on-the Lake.

The strong winds common to this part of Keuka Lake made the late 1930s mausoleum (Alex Rayburn’s word for it) creak like the haunted house it was rumored to be. To Alex it was still the Grand Dame it had been all those many years ago when the family children and their guests spent their pleasured youth cavorting at the house and cottages. Today, Wendell knew that the boss was planning to spend some time on the third floor going through old papers and memorabilia stashed in trunks and boxes, so he set the heating pipes banging and stretching to the max. Steam hissed from numerous pressure valves designed to blow when necessary.

Alex, now in his early seventies and looking damned good, was the last person left in the big Rayburn house in Corning. He still enjoyed visiting the aged lake house, and despite being administrator of the family fortune, found time to enjoy it a few weeks every year. The old boats were gone now. The kids had grown up and interest had waned. The last regatta had gone to Peyton Caulfield, now deceased and missed very much by his widow, Elizabeth. And that business with Ravi Kumar’s near-death experience had been placed in the file as past history. Art Luther had lost.

Wendell, the boss’s treasured valet, was pleased to make his own appearances at the lake so that he could get everything cleaned up between family visits, though Alex was the only one who cared to return. Tsk, tsk, Wendell would mutter seeing the dust elephants, which always greeted him. He did his best to handle both houses.

Hot water was coursing through every straight pipe and elbow in a complex heating system that had seen its better days. Alex’s able manservant secretly wondered when some catastrophe with the furnace would happen, but so far, so good.

Alex liked the upper rooms for the exceptional view of Bluff Point, which divides the east and west branches of the Y-shaped lake. And, of course, he always indulged himself when life’s small pleasures were so easily at hand. He loved to remember his youthful days at the lake house and daydream about the fun of things past.

Winter was melting into spring, and the weather was predicted to be picture perfect this year. From this viewing angle, the landmark Wagoner House across the lake on the bluff glowed like a gossamer in the departing mist, although the famed Saxon-style Garrett Chapel was obscured by the thick pine forest. Little remains now of the Garrett presence, but the family will always be remembered for their Virginia Dare wine label.

In history, Virginia Dare was the first child born in the New World to English colonists in 1587. Virginia’s fate became a mystery after her colony, now referred to as the Lost Colony, vanished from Roanoke Island in the late 1500’s. Legend has it that she lived among the Native Americans and grew into a beautiful young woman trapped in the middle of a tragic love triangle. She was turned into a white doe and ultimately killed. On the very spot where she bled and died, a grapevine sprouted and was stained red. According to the legend, this is how the white wine of America became red wine. The grape vine was widely believed to be the 400-year old Mother Vine, reportedly the oldest cultivated grape in North America which still exists today – a clipping of which would be planted in Virginia Dare Winery’s estate vineyard.

The story of the Virginia Dare Winery started when two businessmen known as the Garrett brothers purchased North Carolina’s Medoc Vineyard, which was the state’s first commercial winery, started in 1835.

The business eventually became Garrett & Company, producing the Virginia Dare wines which quickly became one of the nation’s top sellers.

With the start of Prohibition in 1919, Garrett & Company was forced to move, first to Brooklyn, New York, and then to Cucamonga, California, where the business transitioned into the Virginia Dare Winery. It was one of the first wineries to sell wine after the repeal of Prohibition in 1933 and was a booming business for much of the late 40s and 50s. It eventually saw turmoil and nearly faded into history.

Recently, Francis Coppola’s goal, as told in an NBC-TV TODAY show interview in 2015, is to revive the wine brand so that it isn’t lost for future generations. A bit of intriguing history for Keuka Lake.

Wendell Meeks was happy to please his boss, and in turn, was much appreciated within the family for his devotion to making every situation proceed smoothly. He continued to urge the hot water toward the upper rooms in hopes of a warm and toasty result. In a moment, a familiar rumble up the staircase announced his boss’s arrival.

Did you enjoy the breakfast, sir? Wendell inquired.

Really nice, Wendell. You have a way with an egg! How are you today?

I am always the same, sir, Wendell replied.

Well, you’re okay with me! Alex declared. I trust Nan is seated comfortably by the fire.

Yessir. She seems quite relaxed. She didn’t want to bother you.

I’ll be down in a little while, Alex said. Must keep the fiancée happy.

Wendell left the third floor with a broad smile. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Alex Rayburn downcast; a breezy optimism continually floated in the air around him. The man was truly happy, and was surely Corning, New York’s best private detective. Alex was also well-regarded as the best member of the clan to juggle the international assets of a family said never to have known poverty.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Angus Rayburn had come over from Scotland in the early 1900s, grateful to have purchased one of the last cheap passages on the English steamer Lusitania. Angus was lucky to have sailed when he did, for one year later, the steamer went down with heavy loss of life while approaching Old Kinase on the British mainland. The end of the magnificent liner occasioned the entry of the United States into World War One.

Sad but true, the war was a fortuitous occurrence for the immigrating Angus. Suddenly, many small machine shops opened up in the nation to facilitate the manufacture of the necessary implements of war. The new Rayburn shop was soon busily humming along with the rest of them. With very little money or business savvy, Angus had discovered what the land of opportunity meant for all new Americans. Everyone had an equal stab at making a difference in a growing country and a chance to enjoy a life of prosperity on its gleaming shores. Through hard work and a reasonable amount of luck, he surprised everyone in the commercial world with an often overlooked facet of mercantile success – honest dealings. During that dreary time of Depression and unscrupulous monopolies, his resulting efforts parlayed a small amount of capital into a fortune, presently well-oiled by one Alex Rayburn, his sufficiently gifted descendant.

As the family’s wealth grew from generation to generation, no good cause needing support was left wanting. The Rayburns were there to help. Some had fought in foreign wars, as well. But thoroughly modern Alex had to dust the cobwebs off the remaining Rayburns once in a while by holding them to the old ideals. It was his easiest work.

After his army duty, Alex had joined the Buffalo police force and eventually retired from a position of city detective. Then he went private and became a renowned P.I., sleuthing only those cases which would help less fortunate people. Or perhaps he did it just for the excitement of it.

During one of his former cases, he had become entangled with the indefatigable Nan Holloway, a broadcast journalist, and their relationship ripened as they tackled succeeding challenges together. Eventually Alex felt that his time as a perennial bachelor should finally come to an end, and he asked Nan to marry him. Just last Christmas, he had displayed the whole clan for Nan’s approval during the annual Rayburn reunion at the family digs in Corning, now occupied by Alex only. Nan had approved of the whole crew, and they of her. Even Wendell approved, happy that the two seventy-somethings had found each other. Their youthful vigor seemed to rub off on him.

Alex had decided that if Nan was to become a Rayburn, it was high time she saw the family property on Keuka Lake, the fabled Rayburn-on-the-Lake. Just a few months before, she had glimpsed the Rayburn mansion in Corning for the first time. She adored its exuberant eccentricity and was undeterred by the foibles of some of the extended Rayburn family she’d met there. Today’s jaunt to the property on Keuka was the next step in Alex’s orientation program, she surmised.

Today, Alex had picked her up in one of his classic sports cars, a canary-yellow Lancia, for the lake excursion. Nan was jolted when Alex, a notorious fast food addict, didn’t pull into the local McDonald’s parking lot. Alex smiled wryly at her surprise.

Wendell is preparing breakfast for us at the lake.

How nice, she could only reply.

Alex added, He’ll be miffed if we go elsewhere.

I think I know what you mean, Nan agreed. No argument from me! His food imaginings are worth the wait!

Nan had visited the delightful village of Hammondsport, on the south edge of the lake, and the famed Bully Hill winery high on the southwest ridge. But she was unfamiliar with the approach to Alex’s place on the east side of the 20-mile lake. When they descended slowly from Route 54 toward the lakefront, she noted that the proliferation of tall pines and deciduous trees – oak, maple, hickory, aspen – seemed to close out the sun. The dense undergrowth, just beginning to burst out of dormancy, encroached heavily on the narrow gravel road.

It certainly is private, Nan commented.

Creepy, you mean? Alex responded.

Just a bit, she acknowledged.

It wasn’t always, Alex said. When I was a kid, it was a pretty lively place all summer. Lots of family, plenty of visitors at the house and the neighbor’s places. We had a great time swimming and boating, picnicking, hiking...in the evening we had music and games and general horseplay. He smiled as he reminisced.

But what about the story that your place is haunted?

Oh, any old house that’s been deserted for a while gets a few ghosts.

So, why did the Rayburns stop coming here?

Guess we just grew up, found other things to do, other interests.

Then there’s really nothing ominous about Rayburn-on-the-Lake? Nan pushed on, in her typical interview fashion.

Alex was silent for a moment. An unhappy incident occurred a long time ago. It was a near-drowning.

Goodness! Was it a family member?

No. It was a Cornell grad student from India named Ravi Kumar. He was on board with Peyton helping him win one of the sailing regattas when a boom swept the deck and knocked him into the water. He survived, but was mad as hell about how the deck hardware had become tangled. He said that some couplings had been set in the closed position, and when he needed to quickly adjust the mainsail, everything snagged. The result was a mighty lurch sideways which went beyond his control. He was certain that the cables were sabotaged. Evidently, after he’d checked the boat in the morning, someone had tampered with the rigging and made it impossible for him to react in time. The boom flew to the left and he went into the drink. Because he couldn’t swim, he nearly drowned.

Was the race stopped? Nan said.

"No. That’s not how it’s done. The race continued and Art Luther won. Art had won several times before and incurred the wrath of everyone because he might have been the one messing with Peyton’s boat. No one else had so strong a