Buttons and Bones by Monica Ferris Read Free Book Online Page B

tomorrow.”
    Betsy turned in her chair and called, “Lars? Can you come here a minute?”
    He came in off the back porch with an inquiring look on his face. “Something wrong?”
    “No, in fact you might be pleased to know that Investigator Mix says we can find someplace else to stay for the night while they work on the scene. I don’t know about you, but the children and I have a case of cabin fever.”
    Lars chuckled. “Me, too. Just sitting around is hard on all of us. All right, let me talk with Jill.”
    Jill came out of the bedroom, leaving behind the sounds of whining children, to gratefully accept the offer of escape.
    The three adults swiftly packed two suitcases and an overnight bag, exchanged cell phone numbers with Investigator Mix, and departed.
    They went up the road in the rain to The Lone Wolf and used their landline phone. Anderson’s, the resort on Thunder Lake, had no vacancies. A motel outside of Remer was full. Two resorts on the way to Longville had no cabins available. Longville itself had a motel, but it was also full. However, a place called Camp O’ My Dreams just the other side of Longville had two bed-and-breakfast rooms available, one with two beds, the other with a single queen-size bed.
    “We’ll take both rooms,” declared Jill and Betsy in one voice.
    The rooms were in the finished basement of a new, large, and severely plain house overlooking Long Lake. The shoreline was occupied by four RVs and one mobile home near the house, and six cabins of varying sizes and styles farther down. Mature trees dotted the landscape, and the view down the length of the lake was lovely.
    “Will you want breakfast in the morning?” asked Wilma Griffin, the middle-aged widow who owned the property.
    “Yes, please,” said Lars.
    He and the children took the room with two beds, while Jill and Betsy took the other. The rooms were simply furnished, but clean, and the mattresses on the beds seemed comfortable.
    Betsy treated everyone to dinner at the nicest restaurant in Longville, Patrick’s, which had an extensive menu and a big salad bar. The children had “busketti” while the adults ordered the walleye—listed, to Betsy’s amusement, under “Seafood.”
    Driving back on the rain-wet street toward the main street of the little town, Emma Beth suddenly shouted, “A turtle, a turtle!” and Lars, thinking one of the creatures was trying to cross the road, slammed on his brakes.
    But Emma Beth had spied a bronze statue of a turtle on a pedestal between the street and the sidewalk. Hanging from a nearby building was a big sign declaring LONGVILLE THE TURTLE RACING CAPITOL OF MINNESOTA and advertising Tuesday afternoon turtle races.
    “Can turtles run?” asked Emma Beth. “Can we watch? When is Tuesday?”
    “Day after tomorrow is Tuesday,” admitted Jill. “And we’ll see.”
    “See tuttle!” declared Airey, to seal the deal.

Six

    COMING upstairs to the table the next morning, Jill was pleased to see that breakfast was ample: pancakes, fruit in sweetened juice, oatmeal, sausage patties, toast, orange juice, milk, coffee. Wilma sat at the table with them, along with an older couple who had come every year for the past dozen years. The fourth room had been taken by a pair of fishermen, who skipped breakfast to get out on the water at first light, which came around five at this time of year.
    Talk was of the pleasures of Cass County, fishing and hiking, of the nearness of Lake Itasca, source of the Mississippi River, where it was so narrow it could be crossed on stepping-stones.
    Toward the end of the meal, searching for something further to talk about, Wilma asked what brought the quintet to her camp.
    “We’re not talking about it in front of the children,” said Jill, speaking in her best neutral voice.
    “Oh, you’re getting a D-I-V-O-R-C-E,” spelled the female member of the older couple.
    “No, that’s not it at all,” said Lars with a laugh. He finished his third cup of