A Boat Called No
It was a rickety, creaky old wooden dive boat with an even more rickety engine that stopped and started like a dog growling at a mischievous squirrel. Even in the deep, moonless dark, it was clear the paint was peeling…
It was a rickety, creaky old wooden dive boat with an even more rickety engine that stopped and started like a dog growling at a mischievous squirrel. Even in the deep, moonless dark, it was clear the paint was peeling…
It was well after one when I got distracted by a soft glow coming in through the doorway. I must have left a light on somewhere. But that was confusing because I was pretty sure it had been dark everywhere.…
Now, I have a theory about life, and I am going to be very grand and share it with you here. My theory is an old one, but it is one I have recently found to be true. The point…
It was a half-hour drive back to the house, much of it over bumpy roads. I felt tired and worried, and my ankles were the size of volleyballs. I imagined all this stress and heat was not advisable so soon…
I pictured the photograph on the website, the one with the St. Christopher necklace. A strange feeling washed over me, reminiscent of leaving a door or gate ajar. But that door or gate was me. “It was one of the…
He had the look not so much of a pirate but a castaway, with unkempt hair and a beard escaping his face in every direction, and youthful eyes that shone like a sunrise through an ancient ruin. His eyes aside,…
An hour later, I was on the beach. A short arc-shaped stretch of busy sand. There was a restaurant—a fresh-fish and paella place. A rustic-looking straw-roofed boutique selling summer dresses and swimwear. The beach itself was full of people and…
Head to the Las Dalias hippy market … and say hello to my friend Sabine. That is what her letter had said. So, having nothing else to do, I did this. The market was very busy. It was how I…
I tried my best to put all this detective stuff behind me, to give up being Miss Marple for a while. So I did what most British people do on a Mediterranean island. I went out and had a holiday.…
The Guardia Civil officer, a man of indeterminate age, sat behind his desk in his immaculately ironed short-sleeved military-green shirt, staring at Christina’s letter to me. He chewed gum as he read it. There was a soft glitter of sweat…