Page 26 of Skin and Bones

I coughed and sputtered while Hank pounded on my back. “Not since his call cut off this morning,” I replied, eyes watering. “I went by the station, but he was in meetings with the mayor.”

“Probably getting his behind chewed over that break-in,” Hank observed. “Mayor Cromwell’s been looking for an excuse to undermine Beckett since he arrived. You know the county council went over Cromwell’s head and appointed Beckett without his input after Milton was arrested. The mayor wanted to install one of his cronies, but the corruption ran too deep. You know Cromwell and Milton had been fishing buddies for decades.”

“Dollars to donuts Cromwell loses the election in November,” Dottie added. “Too much stink on him from Milton’s scandal. No direct evidence against him, but mud sticks when you play in the pigpen too long.”

“Cromwell knows it too,” Bea said with a knowing nod. “That’s what makes him dangerous. Nothing worse than a politician with nothing to lose.”

“Speaking of dangerous,” I said, lowering my voice despite being in my own home, “Someone tailed me today after I left the station. Dark sedan, tinted windows, the whole cliché.”

Five pairs of wizened eyes widened simultaneously.

“Did you get a plate number?” Walt demanded, suddenly all business.

“No. I was a little busy trying to outmaneuver him.”

“Amateur,” he muttered.

Dottie patted his hand. “We can’t all be James Bond in orthopedic shoes, Walt.”

Walt looked like he might argue but couldn’t quite deny the accuracy of her description.

“I can only assume it’s connected to Elizabeth’s diary,” I said.

“Someone should talk to Jason Brooks,” Hank said. “He’s still an attorney in Charleston. If anyone knows what Elizabeth was investigating, it would be him.”

“Sounds like you need to make a trip to Charleston, Mabel,” Bea said, her bangles jingling as she reached for the bourbon bottle.

“Me? Why me?” I asked.

“You’re the least conspicuous,” Walt pointed out. “Young, attractive widow paying a courtesy call versus five senior citizens showing up asking questions about a decades-old death.”

“I know Jason Brooks,” Hank said, straightening in his chair. “He appeared in my courtroom from time to time. He’s a good attorney. I could arrange an introduction, go with you as backup.”

“Who’s going to run my tea shop?” I asked. “I only have part-time help.”

“We will,” Dottie and Deidre said together, their smiles indicating they saw working at the tea shop a new adventure.

“Don’t look at me, dear,” Bea said. “I like being served. Not serving others. My husbands spoiled me rotten. I know where my giftings lie.”

Since I actually wanted to keep customers and make money, I was fine with Bea bowing out of running the shop.

Just then, Chowder’s head snapped up and he rolled to his feet.

Walt immediately went for the weapon he was undoubtedly hiding in his jacket. “Intruder,” he whispered.

I held my breath as the distinctive sound of my mudroom door opening echoed through the house.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

A rush of cool evening air carried with it the scent of cedar and leather.

“It’s just me,” Dash called out, his voice low and steady.

I let out a sigh of relief, but Walt’s hand didn’t leave his pocket.

Dash appeared in the doorway like a shadow materializing, dressed in a plain black T-shirt that stretched across his shoulders and jeans that had seen better days. His badge glinted on his belt and his weapon was holstered—the only signs of his official position. Gone was the pressed uniform I was accustomed to seeing him in. If I had to judge by the expression on his face and the set of his shoulders, I’d say his day probably hadn’t been one of the better ones since he’d taken the job as sheriff.

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