Over Troubled Water: A Hunter Jones Mystery by Charlotte Moore Read Free Book Online

doing?”
    “She loves Mobile and they’ve just moved into their new house,” Mallory said. “All Miranda talks about on the phone is furniture buying and what the dogs have done lately. Our old cocker spaniel Merlin is trying to keep up with two Golden Retriever puppies and a new kitten.”
    “What kind of kitten?” Hunter asked.
    “Just one from the shelter,” Mallory said. “Very ordinary, but she’s put about a dozen pictures of him on Facebook. She says she’s going to volunteer at the shelter once they get everything finished in the house.”
    The conversation moved easily to dogs, cats, and houses, with the usual interruptions from people who just came by their table to ask Hunter when the baby was going to arrive.
    After the fourth, Hunter looked at Sam and Mallory, and asked, “Do I look that huge?”
    They nodded in unison, and Sam signaled to Annelle for the check.
    Hunter had picked up some copies of the latest issue of the paper and had just gotten into Sam’s car when his cell phone rang.
    It was Shellie. He listened and frowned and listened some more.
    “Call the mayor back and tell him that I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. “I need to take Hunter home first.”
    “Jim Jordan’s parents are at City Hall,” he explained as he started the engine. “The father’s upset, and Mayor Washington wants me to come over and tell them what’s happening with the investigation.”
    “Well, do that first,” Hunter said. “I don’t mind waiting in the car.”
    “I don’t know how long this is going to take,” Sam said.
    “I can wait in the lobby and look over the paper,” Hunter said. “It’s no problem.”
    “Thanks,” Sam said.
    Merchantsville City Hall was just beyond the downtown business district, with the Magnolia County Library on one side and the Board of Education Offices on the other. All three were newer by a century than the courthouse in the center of downtown, but Sam still preferred the old spires and the clock tower of the courthouse to the Williamsburg style of the other civic buildings. He just envied the size of their parking lots.
    Hunter got out and came in with him only to discover that the Jordan’s discussion with the mayor had moved to the lobby. He introduced everyone, and Jack Jordan, who was holding a cardboard box full of his late son’s diplomas and certificates, nodded curtly.
    Hunter explained that she had only come in to wait for Sam. Jim Jordan’s mother, a fragile blonde in her late fifties, seemed relieved to see another female face. She said, “I’ll sit over here with you while the men talk.”
    Hunter expressed her sympathy when they had found the most comfortable sofa. Janice Jordan began to cry and then to talk in a soft voice.
    “I just can’t take this in,” she said. “Why would anybody hurt our Jimmy? He was such a sweet boy and he worked so hard to get that degree. You know this job was just a starting point for him. We thought he’d wind up in one of the big cities. He graduated with highest honors from his masters program.”
    “I know,” Hunter said, reaching for Janice Jordan’s hand. “I’m the editor of the paper, and I wrote the story about him for today’s paper. We got a lot of it from his resume, and all of the council members had such high praise for him.”
    Jack Jordan’s voice was rising and falling. Hunter heard him say something about “coming down here with my own gun.”
    “There’s a story in the paper?” Janice Johnson.
    “I’ve got one right here if you’d like to take it with you,” Hunter said. She was a little worried at the reaction Jim Jordan’s mother might have to the headlines and the picture of the flowers on the bridge, but it turned out somehow to be just the right thing, and the grieving mother saw little beyond the burst of color and the picture of her son. Hunter was glad that the story was about Jim Jordan, the City Planner, not about Jim Jordan, the victim.
    Jack Jordan