Wings in the Dark Read Free Page A

typewriter.
    Laura glanced at me over her shoulder. “Race you back.” She pedaled around a corner and down toward the beach as smooth as a knife going through warm butter.
    I took the corner, the bicycle skidded on the gravel, and I slowed or I would’ve fallen. Knowing she’d bested me, I couldn’t help but smile as I followed.
    We passed Tony’s Surf Shack. The young man waved to Laura from a bobbling surfboard. Back in Queens I’d have set him straight the first time he made eyes at her.
    Had success changed me that much?
    Laura reached Sato’s Bicycle Shop and hopped off. She slipped the bicycle into the rack and faced me with a broad grin as I pulled up and returned my bike.
    Laura stood with both fists on her hips, reminding me of the lady pilot she played in her last film. “Glad you finally made it, darling.”
    I swept her into my arms. I breathed in the fresh fragrance of her dark hair and kissed her.
    Laura returned the kiss then playfully pushed me away as two parents and their kids walked by. She dropped to a bench beside the front door, fluffed her black curls and pointed toward the shack. “Second place pays.”
    As a successful actress, Laura earned more dough than I did writing mysteries, but I wasn’t complaining. We weren’t hurting like most of the folks in the country. I tugged my wallet from my trouser pocket and went inside.
    At the counter, Mikayla explained in surprising detail the features of a camera she was renting to a couple. I looked out the window. Laura glanced toward seagulls circling over the beach. She resembled any other tourist, except for her eye-catching good looks.
    In spite of her fame in recent years, she’d changed little. Oh, sure, a touch of makeup and she was glamorous. Laura was also smart, funny, and calm when facing adversity, a wonderful complement to my tendency toward losing my temper.
    Our careers provided financial independence during the world’s most devastating economic calamity, the Great Depression. With Japan’s conquest of Manchuria and Hitler and his henchmen building up Germany’s military, the future didn’t look so bright.
    I’d tried to explain to the reporter, I couldn’t solve the world’s problems or help folks who’d had more than their share of bad breaks. I accepted our good fortune and the life we led together. For the next few days, I was determined to spend time with Laura, enjoying our honeymoon. In spite of the troubled times we lived in, for Laura and me, everything was perfect.
    The couple nodded to me as they left.
    “Mr. Donovan.” Mikayla smiled and set the expensive-looking camera beneath the counter. “How was your ride?”
    “Wonderful. Nice camera.” I slid a sawbuck across the counter.
    “A hobby. Hawaii has so many wonderful sights to photograph.”
    “We enjoyed the pineapple plantation and the forest. Thanks for the suggestion.”
    “Kalua Plantation is the largest on the Islands.” Mikayla reached beneath the counter. With more than a hint of grease on her hands, she pulled out a book, one of mine,
Blackie Doyle Returns.
“Excellent mystery, Mr. Donovan. So many suspects. Any one of them could’ve killed the beautiful redheaded dame. Can you tell by looking at someone they might be willing to take another life? Blackie Doyle seems to do that.”
    I chuckled. “I’m no Blackie Doyle.”
    She held out the book. “Would you sign your novel for me?”
    “It’d be an honor.” A request to autograph one of my novels always flattered me. Though far more people asked for Laura’s autograph than mine, I didn’t let it bother me. If Laura and I had never met, I’d ask for her autograph too.
    I signed on the title page, adding a personal touch by thanking her for the excellent bikes we rented. I handed the book back.
    When she set the book on the counter behind her, I glimpsed a narrow bed, no bigger than a cot, through the open door. I didn’t realize she lived in the shop. Above the bed hung a framed