As he quietly walked along the pier shortly before sunset, he felt the evening breeze start to pick up and blow the humid air into the palm trees. He could hear the rustle of the wind through the live oaks. His cane steadied him on the uneven planks of the narrow pier as he approached the solitary figure sitting at the end.

Meet Mr. Hanson, a spry old codger who has a way of following murder, mayhem, chaos, and affairs of the heart anywhere between Europe and Shea's Cove on the Indian River. Decked out in his red baseball cap with the Gothic H, his brown sweater, and scuffed shoes, Mr....