Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Mystery & Detective,
Women Sleuths,
Crime,
Mystery Fiction,
Large Type Books,
Murder,
oregon,
Investigation,
Murder - Investigation,
Plumbers
old-fashioned. All she had was the landline. She’ll have a forwarding number on her old line. She’s always been organized.”
I was practically out the door, but I stopped and looked back at Paula. “I tried her phone here, and it’s still working, but there wasn’t any answer, or a machine message, or a forwarding number, or anything. It just rang and rang.
“I met her attorneys, the Gladstones, this morning. They said they’d check for a new address.” I kept my misgivings about their promise to myself. “You have any other ideas?”
“Absolutely. A librarian can find out anything.” Paula had followed me to the front of the library, and stepped back behind her counter. “Let me see what we have for a forwarding address, and I’ll make some calls. Somebody in town must have a phone number for her.”
I left her rummaging through her files, and gunned the Beetle out of the parking lot, heading for the McComb site. Unfortunately, thirty-year-old Beetles don’t gun so
much as they meander. Fortunately, the traffic gods were on my side, and I made it to the site with a few minutes to spare.
Not that Sean appreciated my dedication.
chapter 6
By the time Sean finished with me, it was nearing dark. Again. My arms hurt from hours of shoveling, and my back ached from hauling and leveling the gravel for the drainfield. I hadn’t been this dirty since I made mud pies in nursery school.
Sean had been Barry’s number two for several years, and when I signed on, he had made it clear that he didn’t like the idea of women on the job. He relished the opportunity to give me the dirtiest, most backbreaking tasks he could find.
I was not about to give him any opportunity to find fault with my performance. I’d already failed once in a man’s world, and I wasn’t going to do it again. I worked harder and longer than any man on the project, and I refused to complain.
But I was very glad it was Friday, and I had the weekend to recover.
I got home just in time to hear the answering machine click off. I had my cell phone with me, but when I
pulled it from my purse, I realized I had let the battery go dead.
There had been a time when I not only kept my phone fully charged every minute of the day, but carried a second, backup phone. As the CEO of a high-tech company, I couldn’t afford to be out of touch for more than a few minutes. Now I let my phone run down, and sometimes even forgot to carry it.
I let the dogs out before I checked the machine. They ran into the gloom of the backyard, sniffing and barking, celebrating their freedom.
I knew exactly how they felt.
I punched the message button, and listened as I dragged off my boots and shrugged out of my coveralls. I’d need to clean and oil the boots, but that could wait until tomorrow.
My mother had called, asking what I wanted for my birthday. It was still several months away, but I could picture her with her PDA and Bluetooth phone, setting up her calendar for the rest of the year.
I imagined her tapping in an appointment in October to shop for my gift, after she finished her Christmas shopping, and I shuddered at the image. It was how I used to be.
I dumped the boots and coveralls in the utility room, grabbing a clean towel from the pile of laundry waiting to be folded. I was either going to have to get better at housework or hire someone.
With my bank balance? I started folding clothes while the machine played the next message.
It was my mother, again. Just reminding me that we had a dinner date with Gregory for Monday night, and I was supposed to ask Wade to join us.
There was a message from Sue, wondering if I had learned anything about the brooch, and did I want to bring Daisy and Buddha for a trim tomorrow afternoon, they had looked a little shaggy when she was here last night.
I called the dogs in, and was ready for the shower when I heard Wade’s voice. “Hi, Georgie. Sorry last night didn’t work out. I’m finishing up here, and have