Summer Friday Read: Model Wave, Ch. 2
Listen now! Author TK Sheffield reads chapters from her funny boating mystery, MODEL WAVE.
Hello, Friends. This summer, I’m taking a break from blog post programming and sharing chapters from MODEL WAVE, the second book in the Backyard Model Mysteries. It’s a comic cozy mystery of boats, romance, and a splash of Northwoods mischief—a getaway for mystery and boat lovers.
The background: MODEL WAVE, a funny Northwoods mystery, described by Reader Views as “Good-natured upcountry wackiness” and “How the characters remain so physically alluring amidst the avalanche of ice cream sundaes, milkshakes, grilled bratwursts, fried cheese curds, chocolates and booze is as big a mystery as the murder.
That review was four stars, not five, but it’s one of my favorites.
Let’s float into the Second Chapter of MODEL WAVE by TK Sheffield. We pick up after Mel saw her friend Susan at the restaurant, and she got ready for her date with a silver-fox sheriff. The two are on their first date sharing frozen custard sundae.
Model Wave, Ch. 2
Sheriff Cole Lawrence lounged in the truck’s driver’s seat. He smiled, his grin sweetly lopsided.
A turtle sundae was between us on the console.
“Ope, sorry,” I said as our spoons clashed. “Call me ‘Quick Draw.’ Fastest utensil in Wisconsin.”
“How’s your spatula game, Mel? The department has a pancake breakfast soon. I could use an extra flipper.”
“I’m better at buying a ticket and eating, but I’ll help.”
“I’ll deputize you as a volunteer.”
Our treat diminished quickly. Melting due to the humid air, not my fast spoon. Parked by Lake Minocqua, the custard stand glowed behind us, its giant ice cream cone warning boaters about the shoreline.
I nodded at the orb. “Only in Wisconsin would a giant cone act as a lighthouse.”
Cole’s gaze shifted to the lake. “Storm’s coming. Could be rough.”
Lightning flashed. A gust slammed the windshield, shaking the truck like a toy, like invisible hands grabbed the vehicle and rattled it.
Custard hit my teeth—brain freeze!
I jerked, bumping Cole’s spoon. Caramel—fudge—my hair. The wooden dipper stuck like glue, an awful fashion choice.
Cole looked shocked causing the mess. “I didn’t mean—”
“Sheriff Lawrence, call dispatch,” crackled the radio. Reaching for his phone, his elbow knocked the sundae onto my lap.
“C-cold!” I yelped.
“Mel, I have to respond.” He eyed the mess. “Geez, I’m sorry.”
He stepped out, jacket flapping in the wind.
I scanned for napkins but stopped short. A sheriff’s glove box? Who knew what was in there—handcuffs, evidence bags?
I didn’t want to know. It was our first date. I’d wear the custard, thanks.
I tugged the spoon in my hair—made it worse. Using the empty cup, I corralled the goo on my lap as fat raindrops pelted the windshield. Tap … tap. Tap, tap, tap.
After a minute, Cole climbed back in, a frown creasing his brow.
Probably embarrassed about the spilled dessert.
Well, Mel Tower’s mantra is when life hands her custard, she makes custard jokes. “It’s no big deal, Cole. Did you know a deer’s favorite custard flavor is cookie doe—”
“We have to leave,” he cut in. “Curtis Grey’s dead. Found on his pontoon. Boat’s being towed to the launch in Copper Falls, near your rental, about fifteen minutes away.”
“Oh, no.”
“You and your friends spoke with him earlier at the Glass Bottom, right?”
I nodded, the spoon wobbling in my hair like a caught minnow. “He brought us turds.” My face burned. “No—cheese curds. Custard, ah, curds. Sorry, they’re close.”
“How long did you talk?”
“Not long. Something about a new recipe.”
Cole fired the truck, engine roaring as we lurched onto the road. “An officer will need your statement.”
Lightning slashed the sky, a jagged, hideous bolt big enough to tear the Northwoods in half, it seemed.
I was covered in caramel goo, headed to a crime scene, and facing a police Q&A about Curtis Grey’s death—on my first date with a sheriff.
So much for a sweet night; it was the opposite of what I expected.
What. A. Mess.
Cole gripped the wheel, navigating the winding road from Minocqua to Copper Falls. “Watch for deer,” he said, voice tight.
What he shared about Curtis Grey’s death unnerved me. “A fisherman found him adrift on his new boat. That mega-pontoon could go sixty miles an hour on the water.” He pounded the wheel. “Grey could have lost control, especially in this weather.”
The road hugged Glass Lake, dark waves boiling on one side, towering pines like sentinels on the other. Lightning cracked and clouds swirled, birthing jagged atolls in the sky, it seemed.
My thighs felt chilled. Custard had soaked through my dress and onto my legs. The spoon still dangled in my hair like a bad accessory.
Cole drove like a stuntman. “Why was Grey out so late? Did he mention anything about night boating?”
“Barely spoke to him,” I replied. “He dropped off cheese curds and mentioned a new recipe. Are you sure it’s Curtis? Maybe there’s been a terrible mistake.”
Cole shot me a glance. “Was he nervous? Agitated?”
Red lights flickered against pine trees. “Ambulance coming down that hill—look out!” I pointed.
A siren wailed, honking like a goose. HAYonk. HAYonk. It blew the stop sign, barreling toward us. Cole threw an arm against my chest. “Hold on!”
He yanked the wheel. We skidded across the center line, tires screaming.
Please, Lord, keep us out of the lake and off those boulders!
The spoon in my hair whipped like a fishing lure on a pole. I tried to catch it but missed, then grabbed the “Oh, Shucks” handle and braced a hand against the dash.
Rocks loomed—gravel crunched like thunder—but praise to the patron saint of brake pads, the wheels caught.
We lurched sideways, then stopped, straddling oncoming traffic, wipers slapping, engine growling. No headlights came toward us, thank God.
I saw the ambulance’s lights fading in the distance.
“Too close,” Cole muttered. “Didn’t see that guy. Are you hurt?”
I released the “Oh, Shucks” and captured the twirling spoon. “Did we almost get hit by an ambulance? Or a runaway pontoon?”
What happened to Curtis Grey?
If someone harmed him, his new boat seemed determined to take the secret to a watery grave.
The time was eleven, but it felt like Midnight at the Pier of Good and Evil. Lightning slashed, thunder boomed. I feared the lake would split and swallow us all.
From Cole’s truck, I fumbled with my phone, recording the chaotic recovery operation—not a lost cause, hopefully.
A spotlight from the Glass Bottom restaurant flickered, barely piercing the darkness. Two police cruisers idled, their headlights too distant to help.
Grey’s pontoon, No Bullship, thrashed like a demon. Officers struggled while lashing it to the dock. It bucked, splintering pilings with each crash—crack!
Cole, in a yellow slicker and cowboy hat, shouted orders from the boat launch, slipping on the slimy incline. Boat launches were hockey rinks but coated with lake slime and vehicle oil instead of ice. One wrong step, and the waves would claim him.
“Stay up,” I whispered.
Grey’s body was still on the boat. Hilarious Wilde, a lanky Ichabod Crane-type I’d met at a charity dinner earlier in the week, battled the wind on the pier, snapping photos. An officer shielded his camera with an umbrella, the wind battering her.
An old-school ambulance—bubble lights swirling, siren sounding like a strangled goose—idled on the steep ramp.
When we’d arrived, Cole had words with its young driver. I wanted to, also, but the better part of valor had been to remain in the truck, out of the fray.
I shook my head. Today’s disasters were piling up: First, there was The Great Bar Stool Collapse with Susan at the restaurant. Now, a dead man on a pontoon.
Lake Time was real, but this day—stretching like years, yet flashing by—was unhinged.
Crack! A gunshot-like snap jolted me. I zoomed in with my phone.
Holy chaos, Batman!
The monster pontoon had chomped a piling like a shark. Splintered boards jutted like jagged teeth. Wilde yanked his officer-companion back, saving her from toppling into the waves.
Cole waved frantically, urging them off the pier. Then, a red flash—the ambulance!
Its lights flickered and the empty driver’s seat gaped. Either the Ghost of Glass Lake was at the wheel, or the top-heavy rig was sliding on the slick ramp.
It moved—backward, toward Cole, who was focused on the pier.
Curses to the boating version of Murphy’s Law: Whatever can go wrong at a launch will go wrong!
I dropped my phone and shoved open the door. Wind choked my scream. “Cole, behind you!”
He glanced back and bolted—or tried.
His arms churned, legs spun like a cartoon, slicker flapping like sails. If it weren’t so dire, I’d have laughed at the insanity.
I fell on the uneven ground, of course—I used to be a model, not a ballerina. Timbered down like a sawed-off pine, my dress snaring my legs. I clawed the earth to stand, but it was black quicksand.
Propping on my elbows, I yelled, “Cole, move!”
The scene was madness!
Hours ago, I shared custard with the man. Now, a businessman was dead, and Cole was dodging a runaway ambulance?
Metal crunched, then CRASH. The wind howled. I swiped mud from my eyes, that cursed spoon still tangled in my hair.
I’d have dug toward Cole with it, but he’d vanished in the chaos—what happened?
Thanks for reading. Or listening, friends. (I’m reading the story, too, in an audio format.) All you have to do is click the “audio” button to hear it. To catch up, here’s the link to the earlier section of MODEL WAVE.
The Backyard Model Mysteries are from my heart, books to laugh and escape with no sex, politics, foul language, or graphic violence. They’re available at the big place, the ‘Zon, but also at your favorite bookstore, just ask them to order it. Also, Bookshop carries them. To support your local indie, select it, then search for MODEL SUSPECT, MODEL WAVE, or MODEL GHOST.
Summer Scoop: A New Sampler Collection from TK Sheffield
A new sampler collection hits the ebook shelves in a few weeks. This is a sneak-peek of what’s head in my book world in 2026.
Here’s the description for SLEUTHING IN STYLE, Funny Midwest Whodunits and Heart Flips by TK Sheffield, a captivating sampler of cozy mysteries and paranormal romantic comedies brimming with Wisconsin charm:
Join sassy veterinarian Dr. Bonnie Law as she foils horse thieves with her spirited steed Clyde, follow retired model Mel Tower solving small-town murders amid cheese curds and pontoons, and swoon with Cupid-turned-matchmaker Bart McGee navigating divine chaos and mortal love in Mineral Point. Packed with quirky characters, heartwarming humor, and a galloping love for horses, this clean, escapist collection is perfect for fans of cozy whodunits and magical rom-coms. Available as an eBook on Amazon and where ebooks are available, or snag it as a giveaway by signing up for TK Sheffield’s SADDLES & STORIES Substack blog—your ticket to Midwest adventure awaits!
It will be available June 17; it’s a sample of books, a peek into new stories, romantic comedies, cozy suspense.
They’re clean reads. No sex, politics, foul language, or graphic violence.
I really hope you enjoy it—and laugh and escape. We all need it, eh?
Happy Friday, friends. May your lakes be like glass, and your glass always be full.
With love,
~Tracey