What can go wrong on vacation? Plenty, and the stress of missing a flight or the pain of falling victim to pickpockets is only the beginning in Gone Fishin’: Crime Takes a Holiday, the Eighth Guppy Anthology (edited by James M. Jackson), twenty-three authors from the Guppy chapter of Sisters in Crime explore the devious twists and turns of crime-on-holiday.

The Guppy chapter is the largest online chapter of Sisters in Crime, with more than 1100 members from all over North America and beyond. Our goal is to support unpublished authors and to create a community of writers who wish to learn, grow, share, and encourage each other on our writing journeys. The Guppy board is especially pleased that a significant number of the authors in this anthology are being published for the first time.

To whet your appetite, here are the opening lines from each story (in alphabetical order by author):

THE DEFENSELESS COOKBOOK
by Mary Adler
While the other students at the Villa Rondina Cooking School milled about waiting for the driver to distribute their bags, I wandered away with my satchel. If I stood on my tiptoes, I could just see over the wall encircling the forecourt. Below me, paths and olive trees spiraled up from the plains of Florence.
“Pardon me, Sister, but are nuns not required to travel in pairs?”

DUNES, DOGS, AND DU MAURIERS
by Allison Baxter
As a Chicago teacher, the summer is long, and the money is short. The last two summers, I’ve had a “workcation” as a dog walker to the elderly residents of the Dunes, trading bathroom passes for poop bags. I relocate from my South Loop studio to a spacious attic apartment facing Lake Michigan in the breathtaking Indiana Dunes, where the aging NIPSCO—the Indiana power and gas plant to the east—casts cool shadows over the beach.

DEAD MAN’S REUNION
by Venita Bonds
Dr. Harpy Robicheaux braked for an alligator stretched across the narrow dirt road. With a thrust of its tail, the beast launched itself into the black water. Thanks to the gators, deer, and heavy fog in Maurepas Swamp, she’d be lucky to reach Robicheaux Fish Camp by midnight. Her Cajun daddy would be waitin’ on a hot coal. Never mind that she’d driven straight through from Houston after seeing patients all day.

POSTCARDS FROM LOON LAKE
by Susan Daly
I sat on the spacious verandah of Loon Lake Lodge with the other women, all of them engaged in the various ladylike activities encouraged by their husbands. Knitting, exchanging anecdotes about their respective children and grandchildren and various church activities, writing postcards . . .

A RIVER IN EGYPT
by Mary Dutta
Until she met Lynn, the self-styled influencer, Joanne had not thought there was anyone she would hate spending a vacation with more than William, her hopefully soon-to-be ex-husband. Lynn was yet again gesturing at her to move out of her “perfect shot.” Joanne was glad she had begged off the first leg of the Egypt tour. She probably would have pushed the other woman off a pyramid by now.

THE CABINS AT HIDEAWAY LAKE
by Tracy Falenwolfe
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jennifer Fuller said to her poor car. The sporty convertible had already shuttled her seventeen hundred miles from her home in Miami, Florida over the past three days, and she didn’t want to piss it off. What would she do here in the middle of the wilderness if she popped a tire or something?

PIER PRESSURE
by Kate Fellowes
Olivia Payton set down her sketch pad with a contented sigh. Before her, the lake was a vision of blue, punctuated by humans at play. Motorboats cruised past, one trailing someone on skis. A young couple in kayaks paddled by, not disturbing two ducks bobbing a few feet away.
This could be paradise, Olivia thought, with a tinge of cynicism, ten years on the job as a police officer having taken their toll on her outlook. But no more.

MIMOSAS, MANSIONS, AND A KIDNAPPED MALTESE
by Bonnie Finn
“Should we have another mimosa?” I asked my friend Quinn. “We’d be foolish not to.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “But we should order something to eat too.”
Although we were both blonde, Quinn’s hair was straight and silky, while mine was curly and far too often frizzy. We both wore a size 8, but Quinn looked like she walked right out of a fashion magazine. I tended to look like I had just rolled out of bed.

FIRE WITH FIRE
by Geneviève Goggin
The smoke descends into the valley like a raging river and Livia Sinclair must decide—evacuate, as she’s been directed, or stay to find the missing man. Her mask is hardly taking the edge off and her eyes sting. The first lick of flames crests Copper Mountain. If the wind shifts to an easterly, Sea-to-Sky Park will be next on the fire’s agenda to burn down BC’s coastal mountains.

VOICES IN THE CAVES
by Margaret S. Hamilton
Savoring her first sip of café au lait, Kate Carmody beckoned to her husband, Jack, who put his plate filled with eggs, sausages, and cheeses on their breakfast table. The hotel terrace overlooked the medieval town and the Monument aux Morts, honoring residents—civilian and military— who had lost their lives during World War II. A middle-aged man and woman stood in front of the monument having a heated argument in loud, rapid French . . .

DOWNWARD DOG
by Vinnie Hansen
“Bow your head. Close your eyes. It’s time for gratitude.” The yoga teacher, Robin, who had turned out to be a man, commanded the class. Nash Barnett did not like taking orders.
Beneath the rustling fronds of a palapa, he dipped his tanned face without closing his eyes. He was grateful, yadda yadda, for the chalet in St. Moritz and the new Hacker-Craft 33.5-foot mahogany tender for his yacht, for his daughter being nearly as hot as the girl in front of him.

DRIVE
by Ann Michelle Harris
“Are you sure you still want to do this?”
Henry’s voice buzzes beside Audrey as the car rumbles along the mountain road. This weekend getaway was his idea. Three days of relaxation and a chance to see her younger brother perform at the fall music festival. A perfect, easy vacation. Until her brother stopped answering his phone. Until the police used the word missing.

THE CENTERPIECE
by Beth Irish
Detective Pierre Tremblanc of the Service de police de la Ville de Montréal leaned over the lifeless body of Farrah Rocher. She was sprawled in the hors d’oeuvres. One hand rested on the jumbo shrimp wrapped in lean bacon, the other was immersed in sturgeon caviar, the kind harvested by gentle massage. Her neck was twisted, with the right side of her head resting on the Brie and Prosciutto tray.

THE FOLLOWER
by Erin Jori
The town was nestled along the eastern shore of Green Bay beneath towering limestone cliffs to the north and rocky beaches to the south. Shops and restaurants dotted the main street, where tourists milled about buying t-shirts, bottles of cherry wine, and everything else under the sun imprinted with the name “Ellis Bay, Wisconsin.” What better setting for a fictional murder than among a never-ending supply of curious tourists, quirky locals, and breathtaking scenery?

BLOOD ON THE WHITE ROSE
by Sharon P. Lynn
Angie Banks grabbed Matt Riley’s shoulder, but he shook her off and finished buckling the child into the back seat of his car. Breathless after chasing him up a steep, snow-covered hill, Angie wheezed as her lungs tightened.
She wanted to shout, “What are you doing?” but words were beyond her.

SALT, SAND, SLAY
by Cindy Martin
As Steve and I crossed Card Sound Bridge, entering the Florida Keys, the stress of planning this weekend melted away. I soaked in the cloudless sky, painted a vivid cerulean. Along State Road A1A, brilliant green palm fronds swayed above tiki huts and seashell shops. Smiling, Steve tapped his wedding band on the steering wheel to a Jimmy Buffett tune.

LESSON LEARNED
by Sally Milliken
Andrea hadn’t slept well, stressing over her plans for the day, the second of their three-day reunion. For months, she’d been looking forward to sharing her home with her friends. The house had been built along the Ventura River located in a narrow Southern California valley. Although the river was home to an endangered Steelhead Trout, birds were more her passion. Vanna, Carla, Bob, and she had stayed up late, laughed over old photos, and updated each other on their lives. The first day was easy. Today . . . not so much.

TRAVELS FOR THE TRADITIONAL MAN
by Lisbeth Mizula
I couldn’t stop myself. “Oh boy, we’re going on a car trip!” I clapped my hands as Greg jammed his key into the ignition. The baby, Jonathon, the orange and white kitty I inherited when my mother died, was in his cat carrier belted onto the backseat of the car. Our clothes, the diary mother left me, and Jonathon’s kibble and scratching post were all packed neatly into suitcases in the trunk.

DEER CRACKERS
by Shizuka Otake
“I hate this.” I press my face against the window. Until an hour ago, it was perfect fall weather. Now, the wind whips through the trees, strewing reddened Japanese maple leaves across the moss garden.
“It’ll stop by morning. Don’t worry.” Mika taps her shoulder against mine.

THE BLUE-FOOTED BOOBY
by Cynthia Rice
Sammie Alcivar’s chubby, calloused hands trembled as he sorted nine pairs of still-damp swimming fins by size into their storage bins on the lower deck of the Emerald. He shook the droplets of salt water off his own navy-blue fins and leaned them against the bin to dry next to Marco’s bright-blue pair. It was easy to tell them from the tourists’ supply, which were all black. Sammie had missed a near-perfect opportunity—or had it been something else entirely, a fiasco, which would cost him his job, if not his freedom?

TWO IF BY SEA
by Linda Ryea Richard
“Luanne, open up!” My sister’s urgent shout, accompanied by her pounding on the cabin door, jolted me from my stupor. “Lucinda?” Groggy and struggling with nausea, I fumbled to open the lock. “What in heaven’s name? Are you alright?”
“It’s gone,” Lucinda moaned as she burst into our stateroom, stumbling to regain her balance as the Caribbean Princess rolled beneath us.

JUST CHILLIN’
by KM Rockwood
Fortunately, Martha Haley noticed the dust rising at the foot of the winding driveway and spotted the sheriff ’s patrol car climbing the hill. She wasn’t sure if her nephew, Josiah, was down in the basement or not, but she wasn’t taking any chances and rushed over to the stairs to holler a warning.

CASANOVA TAKES A HOLIDAY
by Nina Wachsman
“Welcome to the Continental,” said the footman, opening the carriage door.
Casanova exited first, ready to help the ladies descend, while the uniformed footman lent a hand to the older gentleman.
Giacomo Casanova looked away as the well-endowed woman leaned over, giving him a full view of her charms. For the third time.

To purchase a copy of the anthology, visit wolfsechopress.com.