The Unearthed: Book One, The Eddie McCloskey Series by Evan Ronan Read Free Book Online Page B

feeling pain explode in his big toe, he kept kicking. Five times. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. He got up to eleven when he felt hands clamp down on him.
    As he was pulled away, he watched Kenner writhe on the ground, crying and begging for help.
    Billy smiled.
    * * * *
    Tim was almost to Doris Dilworth’s house.
    Mrs. Dilworth had lived in town her whole life. Her parents had lived in town their whole lives. She knew everything about everybody. She referred to her guests as “callers.” She had never touched a computer in her life, and yet she knew more about local affairs than everybody else, except for the police and the Mayor.
    And even the Mayor was questionable.
    By most accounts, she was in her eighties, though she had deftly avoided answering the question for several decades.
    Hers was an old two story colonial in the older section of the same development the Rossellis lived in. The driveway was short and ran along the side of her house.
    Tim parked his car next to Moira’s coupe.
    Mrs. Dilworth was waiting for him by the front door. She was a tiny woman with short, curly gray hair done up, and her trademark owl’s eyes glasses. She had on a long skirt and a white blouse under a grey sweater even though it was seventy degrees outside.
    “Timothy, dear. How are you?”              
    Tim had to bend over for a hug. “Hi, Mrs. D.”
    “Moira is already here.”
    Tim followed her into the house, which was poorly lit. It was a miracle she got around without killing herself by tripping over one of her many pieces of furniture. Her walls were covered with black and white photos and old still-lifes.
    They went into the parlor. Moira was sitting on a long sofa.
    “How are you feeling today?” Mrs. Dilworth said.
    “Don’t ask.” He settled on the sofa beside Moira. He was still hung over. Even after all the aspirin and extra H20 he’d taken throughout the day.
    Getting old.
    Tim placed his recorder on the coffee table. There was a plate of crackers and cheese next to a jug of iced tea. He poured himself a glass.
    Mrs. Dilworth took her time sitting across from them in the high-backed armchair. Sitting down looked painful for her.
    “I must say I’m flattered,” Mrs. Dilworth said. “Moira tells me you’ve come to me first.”
    “Start with the expert.”
    She chuckled. “So how is the insurance industry treating you?”
    “It treats me okay.”
    “That’s something. It treats most people badly.”
    Tim laughed.
    “I can’t believe it’s been three years since the incident,” Mrs. Dilworth said. “Nasty business altogether. Not too many people liked Mr. Moriarty.”
    “His name was John, right?” Tim asked. Mrs. Dilworth would volunteer a lot of information. The key was to guide her.
    “Yes. He was a loner. And a drinker, to boot. He was college-educated and intelligent. He was a CPA and worked at one of those large firms in the city.”
    Small world. Jackie Rosselli was also a CPA who used to work in the city.
    Mrs. Dilworth said, “Working at the prestigious firm carried with it many responsibilities. Not the least of which was the great number of hours and weekends. He worked a lot, and drank more.”
    Every now and then Mrs. Dilworth would add her stock phrase: “From what I’ve heard.”
    Tim and Moira were both taking notes.
    “I’m afraid my memory isn’t what it used to be. You’ll want to talk to the police too about this,” Mrs. Dilworth said.
    “Planned on it. You know me and Charlie Waite go way back.”
    “Oh, that’s right.” She acted like she’d forgotten but Tim knew better. “I like Charlie. He’s a good man. Such a shame about his knee. He was a great basketball player and could have been a star in college.”
    “Charlie was deadly from outside. He never missed. Maybe not NBA-material but he could have played in Europe easily.”
    After a beat, Moira said, “What was Mrs. Moriarty like?”
    “I spoke to her on a handful of occasions. Her children were