HIGHWAY HOMICIDE by Bill WENHAM Read Free Book Online Page A

handle them too.”
    “I’ll ask him to print you as well then, if that’s alright with you.”
    “Sure, of course it is,” she said, “Am I a suspect too then?”
    Carl gave her a long hard look.
    “Well, you were seen consorting with a suspected felon,” he said, with mock severity.
    “I was not consorting ! I was just serving him breakfast, for God’s sake!” she cried.
    “Maybe you should choose your friends and your felons a bit more carefully then, Lisa,” one of the locals called out.
    “And if you keep that up, fella, I’ll be choosing my customers a lot more carefully too, believe me, so watch it!” she called back at him, as they all laughed.
    Carl had the address of the victim, Maria Caspar, but there was no listing for her in the Rutland phone book. He figured the best way to look into this lead was to just go on down there and see what came out of it. He called in to Judy and to Roly in Burlington to tell them both what he was doing and where he was heading.
     
    Just down the highway from Cooper’s Corners, the man in the deserted house had just awakened. Directly opposite the chesterfield, daylight was now streaming in and really showing up how filthy the old house was. The blizzard had stopped now and had left huge drifts halfway up the windows. He’d wasted his time trying to erase his footprints last night, because nature had done it for him. He’d split and hurt his hands for nothing, he thought ruefully.
    He got up stiffly from the chesterfield and dressed himself quickly. His clothes were all quite dry now, but the stove had burned itself out during the night. Just as well, he thought, although the room was already freezing cold again.
    If anyone stopped or passed by out on the highway now, there would be nothing to indicate his presence in the old house. No smoke to see or smell anymore.
    Later tonight, if he was still here, he would get the fire going again. With that thought in mind, he checked out the box of matches beside the stove . The first one he struck lighted right away.
    The man then went on into the kitchen. It had seemed bad enough in the dark but in the daylight it was disgusting. Dirty pots, dirty dishes and dried, dropped food caked on to everything and interspersed with mouse droppings.
    Looking at the rusted, unlabelled food cans on the counter, he decided he was still not that hungry, not yet at least. Pulling out one of the remaining two kitchen chairs, he sat himself down at the table. It was time to start seriously thinking about how he was going to get himself out of this mess.
    All he knew, apart from hi s own personal details, was he was in an old deserted house along a secondary highway somewhere. He also knew he’d passed a place called Cooper’s Corners. It was a name he wasn’t familiar with and without a map or some other source of reference, he had no idea where it was, or where he was.
    He’ d just been too smart for his own good. If he hadn’t been so scared and so intent on driving the old Honda into a field, he would still have had wheels. It was highly unlikely he’d ever be able to drive it out again now.
    He rubbed a sore hand across his forehead and tried to think of what he could do. He already knew very well what he couldn’t do! He couldn’t go back out on to the highway and start hitch hiking. That was a certainty.
    But, now the blizzard had stopped, he knew he’d have to get away from here soon, and as far away as possible. As quickly as possible as well.
    After pondering for a while, he got up and pushed the chair back from the table. He went back into the parlor, picked up the drape he’d worn the previous night and wrapped it around himself over his clothes. He used the foot bindings to hold it in place.
    Dressed as best as he could be for the weather outside, he went to the kitchen door and opened it. The snow was well over a foot deep in places and had drifted right up the wall of the house.
    About forty feet away was another