Bones & Boxes: a Hetty Fox Cozy Mystery (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Anna Drake Read Free Book Online Page B

minister comes calling in a pair of khakis now.”
    “Do you have any idea who he was?”
    “Not a bit of it. He had his back to us. We couldn’t see his face.”
    “Did you tell the police about him?”
    “Nah. They didn’t come by and question us. Why would they? We live blocks away from Carrie’s house. Besides, there’s nothing to say he was the killer.”
    His wife spoke up, “We probably wouldn’t have seen a thing if we’d driven by at a different hour or on a different day. Funny, isn’t it?”
    “Since we couldn’t identify the guy, we never bothered calling police,” her husband added.
    “Could you tell if he was old or young?”
    “From his build, I’d say he was mIddle aged,” Dotty said
    “Can you remember what day of the week you saw him?”
    “It was a Wednesday, I believe,” she said.
    “That’s right,” her husband added, nodding. “I was taking you to your doctor’s appointment.”
    She smiled. “Yes, I remember.”
    If my math was correct, a middle aged man wearing a suit stopped by Carrie’s house the day before she died. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I’d known five minutes ago. “Did any of you know Mrs. Whitcomb?” I asked.
    “Not me,” the young girl said.
    Her companion shook his head. “Me neither,” he said past a mouthful of food.
    “I did,” Dotty offered.
    “Did you know her well?”
    “Moderately so. We served on a committee together to raise money for the homeless.”
    I felt my brows grow together in puzzlement. “You have homeless people here?”
    “No, we send the money to a church in Chicago. They put together the relief there.”
    “There’s old Barney Pitts,” he husband said. “He’s been known to sleep on a park bench a night or two.”
    “Yes, but the sheriff always gives him a cell to sleep in when the weather turns nasty.”
    Harold nodded. “One of the benefits of living in a small town, I guess. We take care of our own here.” He dabbed his forehead with his napkin.
    “Do you know who took over her position as a bank director after Mrs. Whitcomb died?”
    “Not really.”
    Getting the feeling that I was making people uncomfortable with all  my questions, I spent the next several minutes scanning the room for a man in a brown suit. I came up with three of them.
    It wasn’t until after I’d emptied my plate that one of those brown suits walked over to me and shoved forth a hand. He was large with a beefy face and a sweaty palm. “I’m Tom Hubbard,” he announced. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself. I live very near your daughter. Lovely woman.”
    I beamed and thanked the man. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
    “Anyway,”  he said, jokingly. “I work at the bank, so if you ever need a loan….”
    My heart rate ticked up a beat. “Which one?”
    “First Federal.”
    How extraordinary. “You must have known Lillian Whitcomb then.” He nodded, and I instantly decided I needed to learn more about this man. And since they were neighbors, my daughter seemed just the person to fill me in.
     

EIGHT
     
     
     
    “H ey Mom, what brings you my way?”
    Megan stood in the kitchen with little Jeremy in her arms. My daughter had inherited her father’s height. Combined with her lean frame and dark chestnut hair, it made her an extremely attractive woman.  And her eyes, a brilliant blue,  were now firmly fastened on mine.
    I offered up a broad smile. “I’ve come to pump you for information on a neighbor.”
    A puzzled expression crossed my daughter’s face. “Okay. But can I put this little guy  down for a nap first?”
    “Certainly.” I reached out and rubbed Jeremy’s cheek. He smiled, giving me a glimpse of two sweet dimples and his newly hatched baby tooth.
    “There’s fresh coffee,” Megan said on her way out of the room. “Help yourself.”
    I removed my coat and draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Then, I fished a mug from the corner cupboard. I didn’t need more