Read Sunny Side Up (Lake Erie Mysteries Book 1) for Free Online Page B

right at the intersection?” June hollered over her shoulder to Hamm. She was almost a block ahead of him. I was somewhere in between. “That desk job of yours is doing a number on your legs, counselor! Are your hamstrings getting tight?”
    I pretended I didn’t hear her. Hamm ignored the jab, but I could tell he was pumping his pedals a little more vigorously. June rolled her bike to a stop at the intersection and waited for the two of us to catch up. Hamm silently pulled ahead and rounded the corner to the right.
    I caught up to him and we rolled along, enjoying the sunshine and warm air for about a quarter of a mile. “What do you think it would be like to live here year-round, Hamm?”
    I admired the houses along the street and imagined myself sipping a glass of wine on a patio overlooking the lake, enjoying the tranquility of island life.
    “As much as I love coming here every summer,” Hamm replied, “I don’t think either of us has it in us to be isolated in the dead of winter, relying on little airplanes for supplies when the lake freezes over.” He smiled at me and added, “And what would you possibly do when you ran out of wine?”
    “Ouch. So much for that idea.”
    June hung back a little. She knew she was getting on Hamm’s nerves again, so she amused herself for a while humming the top ten tunes of the eighties.
    I was the first to spot the boutique. “Wow! I never knew turquoise sea horses and pink, glass blowfish could look so natural hanging from trees. I have to admit, they give the place a quirky sort of charm.”
    June stopped singing abruptly and squealed in delight, slamming her bicycle to a halt right in front of an eight-foot tall ceramic mermaid in the yard holding a sign announcing “Jewel of the Bay” in large, multicolored script. This place was right up her alley. Hamm shuddered and braked his bike well away from the surreal seascape.
    I was caught off guard and tumbled right into the middle of them. We were doing our best imitation of a three-ring circus, bike-stacking act just as a flashy Mercedes E350 Cabriolet convertible flew by shooting gravel and dust all over the three of us. It screamed to a stop in front of the store, just inches from Hamm’s back tire.
    “Hey, asshole! What the hell is wrong with you?”
    That was June. I was still gasping for air, and Hamm was glaring at the back of the driver’s head. There was something oddly familiar about that rakishly tousled sandy hair and broad shoulders. His starched lavender Ralph Lauren shirt looked smart against the lunar blue metallic of the car, but was decidedly out-of-place in this laid-back island setting.
    When the rude fellow turned around and flashed his professionally straightened and whitened smile at us, we stopped dead in our tracks and then cried out in unison, “Clifton!”
    June was the first to recover. She recognized her ex-husband a split second before Hamm and I did. Funny, how once you realize you know an obnoxious, arrogant person, you become a little more tolerant of his unrefined tendencies. But just a little.
    June sprung to the side of the car and stuck her head over the door, just inches from the driver’s face. “What in the name of all things superficial and material are you doing here, Sterling?”
    “Well, well, well, it’s great to see you too. How are you, Juniper? Francie, Hamm, glad to see the two of you as well!” Sterling took June’s arm and began to pat it solicitously.
    “Really. Why are you here? I know you’re no fan of fresh air, or for that matter, anything having to do with the outdoors or nature.” The arm patting was clearly not working for June, so she shoved his hand off of her bicep and stood about three feet back from the car.
    “June, darling, that was harsh. But if you must know, I’m working, actually. Well, mostly.”
    I was impressed. If this guy was a professional dancer, he couldn’t have pulled off a better shuffle.
    He continued his explanation. “I