By Tim Myers
On Founder's Day, Harrison Black, proprietor of At Wick's finish, has a stand close to Gretel Barnett. while she's killed in the course of the festivities--and fogeys begin suspecting Harrison--he needs to work out who extinguished his largest rival.
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Sheriff Morton, the law enforcement chief for the entire county, was beside me in a heartbeat. His ruddy complexion and brown hair were in sharp contrast to his predecessor’s washed-out appearance, but I couldn’t count either of the men as friends. ” He looked toward Gretel’s motionless form and commanded, “Wait right here. ” While Morton went to check on Gretel, my accuser stood there just staring at me, a few steps in front of the other onlookers. I started toward the sheriff to see if there was anything I could do to help when the woman yelled, “He’s trying to get away.
A road bridge covered the water a hundred feet in, and as I paddled under it, I could hear the tinny echo of my oars as they dipped into the water. On a whim, I slapped the surface with the flat part of my paddle and was rewarded with a muted echo, as if the concrete and steel cushioned the blow. The underside of the bridge looked like corrugated steel, and as cars passed by above me, I heard an odd thrubbing noise. A part of me wanted to stay, but I knew it was time to turn around. My shoulders were beginning to ache, but I promised myself that I’d come exploring again sometime soon.
Heather said, “Are you kidding? As soon as that woman accused you of shooting Gretel, people started buying your stuff like crazy. ” I started gathering up what was left of my display and shoved it all in a box I had stored under my table. ” “I don’t feel like staying here, not after what happened. ” “And if I stay, I’ll do myself more harm than good. I’ll be back later to get our stuff, Heather. ” The last place on earth I wanted to be was at that table. I needed to get out of New Conover, and if I had my way, I’d never come back.