Murder At Point Lookout Beach
Dan Tannacito
In 1965 an Amherst College graduate, Terry Wagner, returns to the beaches of southern Long Island to resume his summer jobs as a lifeguard at Point Lookout Beach and as a bouncer at a college night club. But his idyllic summer of love and work at the beach is violated by the serial murder of two young girls. The novel interlocks the quest to find the two serial killers and the lives of Terry and his fellow lifeguards at the beach.
The murder of 12-year-old Melissa Costello at Point Lookout Beach is followed by the killing of Sydney Finkelstein, a 14-year-old girl at a nearby beach club. Both deaths occur at places where Terry worked as a lifeguard. The perpetrators, Seth Atkinson and Matt Sweat, were also linked with the murders of two teens several years earlier in nearby towns.
Terry’s coming-of-age story features the beach culture of the mid-sixties. While the search for the murderers plays out, the novel details the daily lives of first responders who make ocean rescues, brave hurricanes, surf waves, and respond to natural disasters such as a whale beaching. Terry’s liaison with a district attorney, Samantha Weathers, brings him into direct conflict with one of the serial killers. In the end Terry captures the second murderer in the act of sexually assaulting the 12-year-old daughter of a visiting British family in Point Lookout before he leaves Point Lookout to pursue his career as an oceanographer on the west coast.
About Dan
I am a lover of language and stories. I discovered my ability to write as an under-graduate at Boston College. Writing has become the common theme of my career as a teacher and a scholar. I earned two doctorates in English and Applied Linguistics at the University of Oregon and taught writing in these fields for forty-eight years at the university, college, and community college levels both in the U.S. and abroad. Many of my students around the world are themselves writers.
My editorial skills have been used in my roles as a writing teacher, journal editor, and as the director of more than sixty full-length doctoral dissertations. This work has shown me the importance and appreciation of a text-oriented dedication to language use. Grammar and style are separate wonders that enliven prose writing and communicate in the act of reading across generations, genders, and ethnicities.
Born in New York City, I have always been fascinated by the abundance and variety of human lives around me. This novel draws on my experiences as a lifeguard in a familiar place. My academic career has brought me from New York to Oregon, from China to Turkey where I have immersed myself in very different lives. I have tried to emerge through my experiences with a better understanding of humanity.
Other Works
Stepping from his car in Lot 3, Terry Wagner faced the West End Bathhouse. He was here to qualify as a Jones Beach lifeguard. The beach and a new beginning both waited for him on the other side of this impressive old building.
The low, wide building was clad in Barbizon brick and Ohio sandstone with a tower as ornate as the Empire State building. As Terry approached, he could see straight through the lobby’s tall windows to the beach and the waves beyond.
He carried his gear in a small brown duffel bag. He had his favorite Amherst College speedo, a towel, and a hairbrush like when he swam every night at college. He had broken seconds consistently in his practice for the 100-meter test, so he was optimistic about the test today.
Through a door marked “lifeguard test,” he found an empty changing room, keys dangling on elastic lanyards from rows of narrow metal locker doors. Terry grabbed a locker midway down the wall. Hurrying to change so he would have time to limber up, he pulled his black nylon tank suit on his lean body, threw on his loose t-shirt, and dug into his flip-flops. He grabbed his towel and slammed the door.
An open door led him out to the Olympic-size pool. A group of candidates were already gathered at a metal barrier at the far end. Terry picked up a numbered badge from a poolside table and pinned it to his suit on his hip. Anoth 1 er group of men clad in Jones Beach parkas were talking among themselves. A well-built guard in his mid-40s stepped forward and introduced himself: “I’m Reggie Jones, group leader today. We’ll be testing you this morning for speed and this afternoon in the ocean for endurance. We’re going to run three candidates at a time, every other lane. The 100-meter test is a four- lap sprint. We call out ‘Ready, Set, . ..” When you hear the starter pistol next, you dive from this end, race to the other end, turn and return to this wall. Four laps total. Anyone who starts before the gun or stops before the finish is disqualified and should hop out quickly. Your time on all three watches must be under 80 seconds to qualify for the ocean test. Those who don’t break 80 are welcome to head to the lockers with our thanks for trying out.”
Terry was in the middle lane of the third group called up by number. To his right was a heavy-set, hairy guy called “Red” for obvious reasons. A blonde-haired athletic-looking guy to his left was doing waist bends while Jones was talking. Terry stripped off his T-shirt, tossing it behind him in a pile with his towel and locker key. He stood at the edge of the pool, with long, muscled legs and a narrow waist. He could tell the others were curious. They were already curling their toes over the edge of the pool and assumed the swimmer’s stance, looking like marble statues.