Haunted (A Bishop/SCU Novel Book 15) by Kay Hooper Read Free Book Online

office and courthouse, and he could see at the far end of Main Street what looked like a fire station. There were two doctor’s offices visible, a pawnshop that looked less seedy than many, a bookstore, and two different coffee shops, one chain and one local.
    He wondered idly which got the most business; it was difficult to tell at first glance.
    Deacon, not making a community statement, parked in front of the first of the coffee shops he came to, mildly surprised to find no parking meters. He got out and closed the car door without bothering to lock it; his luggage was in the trunk, and Sociable really didn’t look like the sort of town where cars were jacked right off Main Street.
    At least not in broad daylight.
    He stretched absently, a bit stiff after the long drive, and looked around with casual interest for a few moments. There was a fair amount of activity in the area on this Thursday despite the January chill in the air, and as far as he could tell, no one paid him any special attention.
    They were polite, though.
    “Morning,” one middle-aged man said pleasantly as he walked past.
    “Morning,” Deacon responded.
    Not really a booming tourist town, Sociable, but the scenery and small-town charm did bring enough visitors that the arrival of one more clearly caused no particular notice.
    Even now.
    Which, Deacon thought, was a bit surprising. The people he saw went about their business, expressions preoccupied but not especially tense or uneasy. When two met in passing, they appeared to exchange casual greetings, but no one lingered to talk.
    He would have expected that.
    Then again, what he was seeing might very well be the citizens of Sociable being uneasy and on edge. Maybe they generally did stop and talk to each other, get coffee, shoot the breeze, discuss local events.
    Like murder.
    Deacon frowned a bit but decided to get out of the chilly air while he considered the matter. He went into the coffee shop, which he found to be typical of most he’d been in: small tables with minimalist chairs, a long banquette along one wall with evenly spaced tables in front of it, and in one rear corner a tall counter with glass cases showcasing various sandwiches and pastries. There was a drop to a lower counter on either end, where a customer ordered and then picked up said order.
    There were signs advertising free Wi-Fi, and at least two customers sipped coffee or tea as they worked at laptops, while two others appeared to be reading, one with a hardcover and one with an e-reader. There were even three independent “stations” just past the banquette with laptops set up for customer use.
    A pleasant young woman took Deacon’s order, and since it was a no-frills black coffee and a large wedge of apple pie, he was able to carry both to a table in the other back corner in only a couple of minutes.
    He settled into his chair and sipped the coffee, which wasn’t bad. He sampled the pie, which was excellent.
    And he watched, without being obvious about it.
    More customers trickled in and out over the next half hour. Some came for coffee and left with their ubiquitous paper cups and preoccupied expressions; a few lingered to chat with the staff behind the counter, which included several young women and only one young man.
    A couple sat enjoying coffee, pastries, and a quiet conversation, clearly in no hurry to leave.
    A woman with a laptop arrived to get coffee and settle down to work, or check her e-mail or social media sites, or surf the Net, or whatever she was doing. A teenager showed up, bought what he and the staff laughingly referred to as “milk with a little coffee,” and then went to one of the provided laptops and settled down to what looked like an online game.
    Just as outside, no one appeared tense or on edge. In fact, the occasional chats at the counter erupted more than once into quiet laughter, and the staff behind the counter appeared unfailingly cheerful.
    Okay, just one odd murder. So maybe that’s