Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 01 - Quiet Anchorage by Ed Lynskey Read Free Book Online Page A

will appall Megan.”
    Setting the dinner plates on their stack inside the cabinet shelf, Alma scoffed. “Appearances hardly matter now.”
    “True enough but where do we start our search?”
    “Rosie McLeod and Lotus Wang are our champion town gossips.”
    “At least they’re a starting place. Tonight Megan looked so forlorn it broke my heart.”
    “Don’t forget she’s tough as nails,” said Alma with false cheer.
    “But of course she is.” Isabel popped out the sink plug, and they watched the dishwater circle the drain before a final slurp. “Well, I’m off to curl up with a new mystery. If I’m lucky, and the sandman skips by, I’ll doze off by dawn.”
    “I already concede I won’t sleep one wink tonight.”
    Isabel undid her collar and sleeves. “If we stand any shot to help Megan, we need the sleep to keep our sharpest wits.”
    “Taking a sleep aid leaves me waking up lost in a fogbank.”
    “Then let’s try closing our eyes and pretending to sleep.”
    Alma left for her bedroom down one wing of their rambler, and Isabel wandered off to her closer bedroom. She tugged out the night table drawer, but then she decided she still wasn’t ready—even ten years later—to put out Max’s framed photo on permanent display. His dusky smile held her eye for an extra second.
    They’d had just the one boy, Cecil. She battled a pang of wistful regret at not having had more children, but then she now had Megan. By the next moment she took stock of their assuming the unproven roles as private detectives to do her some good.
    After shutting her bedroom door and relaxing on her bed, she let her mind drift back and replay what’d transpired in Interview Room One after a lady deputy had escorted Megan back to her prison cell. When their shuffling footsteps had receded to icy silence in the hallway, Sheriff Fox turned to Dwight and the sisters.
    “With your legal counsel present, you’ll want a rundown on Megan’s charge.”
    “Please do bring us up to date,” said Dwight.
    Sheriff Fox smoothed his wrinkly necktie between his fingers as he used a cop’s matter-of-fact tone. “This afternoon Megan Connors contacted my office and reported Jake Robbins was prone out on his shop floor.”
    “It’s odd how she first shoots him and then calls the authorities,” said Alma.
    “It’s a known ploy murderers use to misdirect the police,” said Sheriff Fox. “Anyway, Jake had died of one fatal gunshot wound to the chest—”.
    “Which region of the chest?” asked Isabel.
    “The round struck the most vital region: his heart.” Sheriff Fox signaled with his hands to squelch their next words. “Once I finish, I’ll field your questions.”
    “If you’d told us all this earlier, we’d have no questions now,” said Alma.
    The scratchy rasp was Dwight catching his breath. “All right, Alma, just shush. Let me do the talking like you pay me for. Excuse the interruption, Sheriff Fox. There’ll be no others, so proceed.”
    “There’s not much else left to say. I dispatched two deputies to Jake’s shop and drove over myself a little later. We processed the crime scene where I questioned Megan, and she told me she came to see Jake to do the books. Her knocks on the house door went unheeded, so she proceeded to the shop. There she hollered out his name but raised no response. She claims she entered through the bay doors and spotted him, the victim of foul play—”
    “Skip over to the part on your evidence.” An impatient Alma snapped open her purse, plucked out a tissue, and wiped her nose. “That’s what I want to hear.”
    Isabel seconded Alma’s request before Dwight could protest. “Yes, show us what evidence you’ve accumulated, Sheriff Fox.”
    He went on. “If I can get in a word edgewise, I’ll tell you Jake died of a .44 round. Shortly after I let Megan leave, our follow up canvass of the premises uncovered a.44 handgun the murderer had tossed under the work bench. Playing a hunch, I