Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2) by W B Garalt

was eight years ago, and she had been engrossed in building a career.  Maggie had dated at times but hadn’t been involved with a man after her school days, until she met Max. Her past romances were essentially forgotten.
    “Well, I don’t remember a whole lot about him , but the memory of shooting the guns lingers on,” Maggie retorted, feigning a warning look through squinted eyes. They shared a chuckle as Max wiped off any fingerprints with a hand towel and closed the safe. He allowed Maggie to locate, and give a second push on the button below the counter, which closed the concealing mirror section.
    They then checked the rear entrance foyer which had the garage entry door to the left and a door to an outside enclosed patio on the right. As Max had been informed, there was a late-model Land Rover SUV parked inside the three-car garage. In addition to the SUV there was a black, tri-wheeled motorcycle with a small boat trailer attached to the rear. Hanging on a hoist cable above the trailer was a two-seat ‘Skidoo’ water jet.  Off to the side, a twin-seated ‘Snow Kat’ snowmobile was suspended, ready for loading onto the trailer during the next winter season.
       When back in the kitchen, Max opened his carry-on bag and retrieved an envelope from within.  Opening it, he took out a handful of Canadian currency bills for their use as needed during their stay.
    “There’s no lack of varied transportation, that’s for sure!” Maggie commented.
    “With the floatplane and motor launch in the boat house, and the garage full of rides, I’d say all bases were covered,” Max said, looking searchingly into her eyes. “And speaking of covered, did you notice an empty spare bedroom when you toured the upper deck?” he asked with a glint of good humor in his eyes. Max pulled his co-adventurer into a full body press, with his arms surrounding her waist.
    “It so happens I did see four bedrooms. One has an en suite bath,” Maggie reported. “Would you like me to show you around?” she asked seductively, as a slight flush warmed her cheeks.
    “Where you lead, I shall follow,” was Max’s reply, releasing her and bowing with a foolishly-corny Shakespearian flourish. Their mutual sense was that it was time to insert some much-needed one-on-one physical and emotional interaction into their business trip. They shared a long kiss and, with words being unnecessary, they strode up the stairway, discarding unneeded clothing items along the way.
    The daytime sky was transforming to a glowing red sunset as Max drove the Land Rover across a single-lane causeway to the main peninsular of Halifax. They drove along on narrow, two-lane country roadway which ended on a city street following the directions to the subject property of their inspection assignment.  As they drove, Max recited to Maggie the phone conversation with the watchman at the Bickford Laboratory.
    “I suggest that we take a quick look around the place and then find an eating place with a bar,” he recommended.
    “That’s the second best suggestion you’ve made today,” she said, flashing her trademark after-hours smile, which Max adored.
    The map route took them directly to the subject property within seven minutes.  A crushed seashell-covered parking area was off a laneway. Set on a tiny island, accessible across a thirty foot floating dock, the laboratory entrance was set into a slightly weather-beaten clapboard exterior facing the parking area. The three-sides of the opposite end of the gray, stucco-sided exterior bordered on the local ocean cove.  Max glanced down along the side of the structure as Maggie rang the main door buzzer.  The door opened and a late-middle-aged, uniformed watchman, stepped out to greet the strangers. He was a heavy-set man with slightly bowed legs and a dark-skinned Native Canadian Indian facial appearance. He carried a flashlight, a belt radio and had a baton hanging from a peace officers belt, but no further visible