Rebel Island (Tres Navarre Series # 7)

Rebel Island (Tres Navarre Series # 7)

by Rick Riordan

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780553587845
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 09/30/2008
Series: Tres Navarre Series , #7
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 352
Sales rank: 635,352
Product dimensions: 4.00(w) x 6.80(h) x 1.10(d)

About the Author

Rick Riordan is the author of six previous Tres Navarre novels—Big Red Tequila, winner of the Shamus and Anthony Awards; The Widower’s Two-Step, winner of the Edgar Award; The Last King of Texas; The Devil Went Down to Austin; Southtown; and Mission Road. He is also the author of the acclaimed thriller Cold Springs and the young adult novel The Lightning Thief. Rick Riordan lives with his family in San Antonio, Texas.


From the Hardcover edition.

Hometown:

San Antonio, TX

Date of Birth:

June 5, 1964

Place of Birth:

San Antonio, TX

Education:

B.A. in English and History, University of Texas

Read an Excerpt

Rebel Island


By Rick Riordan

Bantam

Copyright © 2007 Rick Riordan
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9780553804232

Chapter One


We got married in a thunderstorm. That should’ve been my first warning.

The Southwest Craft Center courtyard was festooned with white crepe paper. The tables were laden with fresh tamales, chips and salsa. Cases of Shiner Bock sweated on ice in tin buckets. The margarita machine was humming. The San Antonio River flowed past the old limestone walls.

Maia looked beautiful in her cream bridal dress. Her black hair was curled in ringlets and her coppery skin glowed with health.

The guests had arrived: my mother, fresh from a tour of Guatemala; my brother, Garrett, not-so-fresh from our long bachelor party in Austin; and a hundred other relatives, cops, thugs, ex-cons, lawyers—all the people who had made my life so interesting the past few decades.

Then the clouds came. Lightning sparked off a mesquite tree. The sky opened up, and our outdoor wedding became a footrace to the chapel with the retired Baptist minister and the Buddhist monk leading the pack.

Larry Cho, the monk, had a commanding early lead, but Reverend Buckner Fanning held steady around the tamale table while Larry the Buddhist had to swerve to avoid a beer keg and got blocked out by a couple of bail bondsmen. Buckner was long retired, but he sure stayed fit. He won the race tothe chapel and held the door for the others as we came pouring in.

I was last, helping Maia, since she couldn’t move very quickly. Partly that was because of the wedding dress. Mostly it was because she was eight and a half months pregnant. I held a plastic bag over our heads as we plodded through the rain.

“This was not in the forecast,” she protested.

“No,” I agreed. “I’m thinking God owes us a refund.”

Inside, the chapel was dark and smelled of musty limestone. The cedar floorboards creaked under our feet. The crowd milled around, watching out the windows as our party decorations were barraged into mush. Rain drummed off the grass so hard it made a layer of haze three feet high. The crepe paper melted and watery salsa overflowed off the edge of the tables.

“Well,” Buckner said, beaming as if God had made this glorious moment just for us. “We still have a holy matrimony to perform.”

Actually, I was raised Catholic, which is why the wedding was half-Buddhist, half-Baptist. Maia had not been a practicing Buddhist since she was a little girl in China, but she liked Larry the Buddhist, and the incense and beads made her feel nostalgic.

Buckner Fanning was the most respected Baptist minister in San Antonio. He also knew my mom from way back. When the Catholic priest had been reluctant to perform the ceremony (something about Maia being pregnant out of wedlock; go figure), my mom had recruited Buckner.

For his part, Buckner had talked to me in advance about doing the right thing by getting married, how he hoped we would raise our child to know God. I told him we hadn’t actually talked to God about the matter yet, but we were playing phone tag. Buckner, fortunately, had a sense of humor. He agreed to marry us.

We were a pretty bedraggled crew when we reassembled in the old chapel. Rain poured down the stained-glass windows and hammered on the roof. I glanced over at Ana DeLeon, our homicide detective friend, who was toweling off her daughter Lucia’s hair. Ana smiled at me. I gave her a wink, but it was painful to hold her eyes too long. It was hard not to think about her husband, who should have been standing at her side.

Larry the Buddhist rang his gong and lit some incense. He chanted a sutra. Then Buckner began talking about the marriage covenant.

My eyes met Maia’s. She was studying me quizzically. Maybe she was wondering why she’d agreed to hook up with a guy like me. Then she smiled, and I remembered how we’d met in a bar in Berkeley fifteen years ago. Every time she smiled like that, she sent an electric charge straight down my back.

I’m afraid I missed most of what Buckner had to say. But I heard the “I do” part. I said the vow without hesitation.

Afterward, we waded through the well-wishers: my old  girlfriend, Lillian Cambridge; Madeleine White, the mafia princess; Larry Drapiewski, the retired deputy; Milo Chavez, the music agent from Nashville; Messieurs Terrence and Goldman, Maia’s old bosses from the law firm in San Francisco; my mom and her newest boyfriend, a millionaire named Jack Mariner. All sorts of dangerous rain-soaked people.

We ate soggy wedding cake and drank champagne and waited for the storm to pass. As Maia talked with some of her former colleagues, Garrett cornered me at the bar.

My brother was wearing what passed for wedding garb: a worn tuxedo jacket over his tie-dyed T-shirt. His scraggly beard and poorly combed hair looked like a wheat field after a hailstorm. His tuxedo pants were pinned up (since he didn’t have legs) and he’d woven carnations through the spokes of his wheelchair.

“Grats, little bro.” He lifted his plate of tamales in salute. “Good eats.”

“You congratulating me on the tamales or the marriage?”

“Depends.” He belched into his fist, which was for him pretty darned discreet. “What you got planned for the honeymoon?”

Right then, my internal alarms should’ve been ringing. I should’ve backed away, told him to get another plate of tamales and saved myself a lot of trouble. Instead, I said,

“Nothing, really. Maia’s pregnant, you may have noticed.” Garrett waved his hand dismissively.

“Doing nothing for your honeymoon don’t cut it, little bro. Listen, I got a proposition.”

Maybe it was the joyous occasion, or the fact that I was  surrounded by friends. Maybe it was just the fact that it was raining too hard to leave. But I was in the mood to think well of my brother.

I would have plenty of time to regret that later. But that afternoon, with the rain coming down, I listened as Garrett told me his idea. 

Continues...

Excerpted from Rebel Island by Rick Riordan Copyright © 2007 by Rick Riordan. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Rebel Island (Tres Navarre Series # 7) 3.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 28 reviews.
harstan More than 1 year ago
San Antonio based private investigator Tres Navarre radically changes his life as he retires and marries his eight month pregnant girlfriend Maia. Tres¿ older brother wheelchair-bound Garret persuades the newlyweds to go to Rebel Island on their honeymoon Garret and some long time pals will be at the Texas Gulf Island where the two siblings spent family vacations.---------------- At the Rebel island dock, Tres meets rumored cold blooded killer U.S. Marshal Jesse Longoria, who believes the sleuth is on a case. They last met at the grave site of the former sleuth¿s best friend when Jesse wanted to insure Ralph Arguello was dead. While Tres and Maia settle into their suite at Rebel House Inn, a shot is fired. They along with Garret and the manager investigate only to find someone killed Longoria. Tres makes inquires and follows clues even as others are murdered and a hurricane heads towards the island.----------- Although hurricanes attacking the Gulf have flooded the mystery genre since Katrina, the latest Navarre thriller is an exhilarating tale as the audience learns about the lead protagonist¿s salad days and his current relationships. As he digs for clues and finds hidden tunnels and passageways, the killer steals the show as the villain seems always one step ahead of Tres. Readers will enjoy Rick Riordan¿s terrific murder caper, Texas style.--------------- Harriet Klausner
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Interesting story
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Now I want to read all his other books. Love the Texas settings, too!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Dealing with your past can be painful... Reading this story of folks all doing that is unbearable. Rick, stick to teen stories... Clearly your forte! Bingaux
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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The action never stopped. He made so many swerves it kept me guessing.
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Because I was raised in San Antonio, I have read all the books in this series. Use of local references and language makes the series so very helpful to me to recall just what S A meant to me.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
K
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Walks in wearing shorts and a tanktop with her leather jacket and combat boots and her british accent.* Im going for the bad girl rep. * knocks over a drink* omg im so sorry. *starts cleaning it up* yeah this isnt gonna work. But i love this jacket
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
V
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Where out power is stored.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Here is good?
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I dont know if i should get it is it a good book for me i am 12
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Is it ok for 11 year olds