Murder At The Galvez

I love the ocean; the sea; the coast at any time of year. I don’t care if it is hot, humid, or blustery as long as it is a large body of salt water where I can look out toward that illusive, mystical horizon. I first dug my toes into the sand on the Gulf Coast in Galveston, Texas when I was six. It was on a family summer vacation; my bathing suit was navy blue with tiny white polka dots; my hair was in pigtails, and my little sister sat on a mound of sand surrounded by my handmade mote I was filling with salt water from my bucket.