I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1) by W B Garalt Page B

over the roofs of two side-by-side, one story bungalows.  The vista was magnificent. Beyond the blue-grey harbor waters they could see the outline of the “West Chop” section of the island of Martha’s Vineyard, approximately two and one half miles across Nantucket Sound to the south.
    The first ferry to the islands was plowing through the choppy water carrying a load of passengers, mostly seated in the wind-protected lower deck.  The shoreline waters here did not warm up until mid-July and, even then, never reached the warmer temperature found along the Rhode Island and Connecticut south shores.
    On the plus side, summer heat waves along the inner Cape were rare and on the outer Cape, nonexistent.  The torrent of tourism seeking cool weather on Cape Cod from inland Massachusetts and neighboring states was relentless, even in the modern days of air conditioning.
    The Memorial Day three-day weekend was unusually busy each year due to the graduating or soon-to-be graduating, high school and college students’ migratory celebrations.
    Max and Maggie didn’t have an abundance of available accommodations from which to choose when they arrived late Friday afternoon, but they were enjoying their first stay at a refreshingly quiet, low-keyed bed and breakfast establishment.  After breakfast on Saturday morning Maggie had made contact with the friends in Hyannis.  As it turned out, the couple was having their bathrooms and their pool refurbished.  They apologized for not being ready for company but suggested a dinner at the tennis club, their treat, Saturday evening.  Maggie had accepted for her and Max since the friends had a minimum monthly dining room fee, as part of their membership requirements, and they had to use it or they would lose it.  Plus the food was great there.
    Later on Saturday, during dinner, Maggie and Max had explained that, at this part in their lives, they had made a joint decision, to open up to their employers as to their personal relationship.  The friends had not been aware of the details of their friends’ employment and business arrangement.  They were surprised and a little confused, but totally supportive since they had known Maggie and Max as a couple for some time.  They were more than a little shocked at the news about the killings, however.
    As they were dining, an organizer of tournaments had approached their table and asked if anyone would fill in for a set of couples who dropped out of the club annual ‘Kick Off” tournament the next day, on Sunday afternoon.  When Max good naturedly expressed their agreement to fill in “because in that way, he and Maggie would feel a little less guilty about the free dinner,” the group enjoyed a hearty laugh.
    On this Monday morning, the final day of their mini vacation, they were both a bit hung over.  The tennis tournament dinner and awards session hadn’t finished until after 11:00 the night before.  The older members had left at that point but Maggie and Max hanged on with their friends along with two other couples for a “last” drink.
    Maggie, who was teamed with an older woman during the tournament, had won second place in the final doubles matches.  Feeling somewhat overly exuberant, Max had accidentally spilled a drink at their table during the awards session when he rose to applaud Maggie as she walked back to their table waving the winners certificate and her prize, a sleeve of tennis balls, over her head.  Max took a real razzing for the spill and the group of revelers had insisted that he buy yet another round of drinks as punishment.  A bit looped as they left the Hyannis clubhouse, the “Double-Ms”, as they were dubbed that evening, still had to negotiate a fifteen mile drive back to Falmouth. 
    When they had made their way back to the Inn, Maggie tripped over a bench in the main foyer, creating a loud crashing sound that echoed though the old building.  As lights came on in the sitting room, she and Max