Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Fantastic.
What was going on?
Moran and Lazurus, with Aunt Bea, turned a corner and disappeared.
Deputy Hernandez came to me.
“Sheriff Moran would like to talk to you,” he said. “Would you follow me?”
“What’s going on?” I asked as I got up.
“Sheriff Moran will explain.”
Not having remotely good feelings about this, I followed him to a hall that led to an office at the front of the building, and past an office with Aunt Bea standing at the door of it.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked as I passed.
Would I be there that long?
I was jazzed enough, so I replied, “Thank you, but no.”
She nodded, and I felt her eyes on me as Deputy Hernandez led me to the office at the end of the hall.
Lazurus was sitting on a chair opposite Moran, who was behind his desk.
When I entered after Deputy Hernandez, they both took their feet.
“God, sorry, we didn’t get that far. I didn’t get your name,” Deputy Hernandez said to me.
“Mabel. Mabel Adams,” I supplied.
“Harry, Rus, this is Mabel Adams,” Deputy Hernandez said unnecessarily.
I found it interesting that, right in front of me, he didn’t use titles.
It was my experience men liked titles a whole lot. The more authority they had, the more they were sure to tack on doctor, senator, general, sergeant, whatever it was they earned, they wanted it front and center.
Both men came forward, giving their names in the exact same way.
Lazarus first. “Rus Lazarus, Rus.”
No Lieutenant.
I shook his hand then turned to the sheriff.
“Harry Moran, Harry.”
I shook his hand too.
“Have a seat,” he invited.
But I didn’t want to.
I really, really didn’t want to.
Because I glanced at his desk.
On it was the note.
They’d sealed it in an evidence bag.
Disturbing.
Also his computer screen was turned toward the room.
And that had an aerial map of a mountain property with one of those red computer pinpoints over a cabin.
And I knew at a glance that cabin was mine.
FOUR
The Lion and The Lamb
Mabel
“So, you own The Groove,” Harry started after I sat down. “My wife Lillian likes that place a lot.”
This was good to know.
And it was nice that he wanted to start gentle.
Even so.
“Honestly, I don’t mean to be rude,” I replied. “But you can imagine I’m more than mildly creeped out.” I swept a hand in front of me to indicate the note on his desk. “After that, with how you all are behaving, the creep factor is heading into the red zone.”
Harry glanced at Rus.
I looked to Rus.
He was jerking up his chin toward Harry.
“All right, Ms. Adams—” Harry started.
“Mabel. Please call me Mabel,” I invited.
“Mabel,” he muttered. Then, “You’re renting The Retreat from Mrs. Matthews?”
I was confused. “The Retreat?”
“The Cooper’s Retreat,” he said.
“I…no. But I am renting a cabin and workshop from her,” I replied.
“That’s The Cooper’s Retreat.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re talking about the same place.”
Harry leaned into his forearms on the desk. “So we can get down to business, quick history. I’m sure it won’t surprise you, considering our remoteness, and proximity to Canada, back in the day, Misted Pines and Fret County on the whole were centers of bootlegging activity.”
“Oh,” I whispered, thankfully so fascinated by this knowledge, I forgot my most recent woes.
“There was also a whiskey distillery out there,” Harry carried on. “It’s since burned down. But the cooper, the man who made and maintained the barrels to contain that whiskey, lived on your property.”
“Right,” I said.
“He did his coopering in your workshop,” he went on.
Well, wasn’t that kickass?
“In fact, the workshop was built for that purpose,” Harry said. “So, even though Prohibition is long gone, since that business up there was not exactly clandestine, your place has always been known as The Cooper’s Retreat.”
“Okay.”
“And for at least as long as I’ve been aware, it’s been owned and rented out by Mrs. Matthews and her boys.”
I nodded.
“Did you deal with her? Or her son or one of her grandsons?”
“Her son was in the truck, but when I was shown the place, Mrs. Matthews did it.”
Incidentally, she’d been a hoot.
Diminutive (though not as short as Aunt Bea), with a helmet of steel-gray, set curls, she was matter of fact, no nonsense, and blunt to the point of rude.
And her son looked less like he was assisting his elderly mother in her rural mountain real estate empire, and more like a goon who would enforce the will of a vicious mob boss.
I liked her upon meeting, obviously.
“Did they disclose anything about your neighbors?” Harry asked.
Here we go.
I shook my head.
Harry shot an irritated look to Rus.
I didn’t turn my eyes from Harry. “What?”
He sat back in his chair and started carefully, “Now, I’m not saying that was them.” He dipped his head to the note on his desk. “But regardless, you should know, to the south of your property, there’s a…”