Publishable By Death, Andi Cumbo-Floyd [interesting books to read TXT] 📗

Mart, Daniel, the two dogs, and I took the long way home via Main Street. I think we all needed a little time to wind down. The town was quiet. Televisions lit front windows with a blue glow, and, as we passed a couple of houses, the sounds of laughter reached us on the sidewalk. A few cars passed us slowly, no one in an apparent hurry to get anywhere, and while the night was cool, it wasn’t cold. In fact, the slight chill felt good against my tired skin.

We didn’t talk much except to make sure we all knew our stations for the morning. We had just turned onto Main Street when I saw a moving light behind the art co-op. At first, I thought it was just someone’s headlights as they drove through the alley like a lot of folks did to avoid the single stoplight in town. But then, when it slid by my line of vision again, I saw it was a flashlight beam and shook my friends’ arms up and down before pointing.

“Look,” I whisper-shouted, and we all stopped. Yep, someone was shining a light around behind the co-op like they were looking for something.

I thought of all those TV shows where people are trying to find something in a dark house and shine their flashlights all around as if someone wouldn’t notice beams of light in an otherwise dark house. This person had clearly not watched enough television.

Daniel pointed to us and then down the street and then at himself and toward the co-op. “You want us to walk away and leave you here,” I said.

He scowled . . . and then nodded with exaggerated fervor.

“We’re three blocks away. I don’t think they can hear us.”

“Alright.” He looked like I’d taken away all the excitement. Maybe he’d wanted to pretend we were special forces or something. “Yes, you guys go down the street and call Sheriff Mason. I’ll get a closer look. But here, take Taco. He can’t sneak up on dinner.”

I wanted to argue, to remind him that the moment when people split up was the moment when the killer got them, but he was already headed toward the alley. At this point, my safest course of action was to call the police, and I didn’t want to be overheard . . . even if I did think that was unlikely still.

Mart and I tried to look casual as we walked as fast as we could past the co-op and down to my shop. Then, I dialed 911, told them what we’d seen, that Daniel was checking it out, and that we needed someone as soon as possible.

Then, we stood there, huddled together with the dogs straining to go sniffing down the road. The cold air didn’t feel so great anymore.

Just as Sheriff Mason pulled up in what appeared to be his own vehicle, wearing jeans and a T-shirt and looking a little bleary-eyed, Daniel came around the corner of the co-op building with Divina Stevensmith.

“You guys are always in the thick of it, huh?” the sheriff said as Daniel and Divina came down the street.

“It appears that way. But I give you my word that this time, we really were just walking home and saw a light,” I said, feeling chagrined no matter the truth of my words.

The sheriff gave me a skeptical look but turned his attention to Daniel and Divina as they reached us.

“I’m so sorry to worry everyone. I just lost one of my good knives out in the back of the co-op sometime recently, and I didn’t want to risk it cutting someone at the fair tomorrow.”

“What kind of knife was it, Divina? Maybe we can help you look.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but I saw the sheriff cut his eyes toward me.

“Oh, you know, it’s one of those pencil-like ones that has a razor blade on the end . . . I think scrap bookers use them a lot.”

Ah, so not the knife used to kill Deputy Williams. I was surprised to find I was both relieved and a little bit disappointed. For a minute there, I thought we had a good lead.

“Should we all go look?” Daniel asked, and our little huddle moved back to the co-op and around the building.

None of us but the sheriff and Divina had flashlights, so we used our phones to search the ground. I checked right up against the building with the idea that that kind of thing can easily fall in the transition from outside to inside or vice versa, but didn’t find anything.

Then, I started to fan out, searching the lot, including the space where Divina said she usually parked. All of us looked and even wandered into the grass in case a squirrel or crow with a penchant for shiny things had tried to make off with their booty.

We were just about to give up and tell Divina we’d take a sweep again in the morning when she squealed from over by the co-op’s back door. “Oh, I found it. It was right here.” She pointed to a spot to the left of the door. “Thank goodness. I wouldn’t have wanted some child to pick it up and get cut.”

I walked over and looked at the knife that was about as long as a ballpoint pen. “So weird. I looked over here and didn’t see it.” I stretched my back. “But I’m exhausted, so my eyes are a bit wonky.”

Divina patted my arm. “You’ve had a busy few days, and an even busier one tomorrow, I suspect. We best all be getting home. Thank you all for your help and kindness.”

She headed to her hot pink Volkswagen beetle and climbed in. “I’ve always admired that about Divina. She’s loaded, but the only sign of that is the custom paint job on her very sensible car,” Daniel said.

I shook my head. “Not a color I’d pick.” Then I looked at the sheriff. “You know all of us searched that spot by the door, right? That knife was not there.”

He looked at me. “I did. I am a trained police officer.” He gave me a wink. “But yes, that is odd.”

“Maybe she found it in her bag while she was searching and felt embarrassed so she fake-dropped it.” Mart didn’t sound convinced by her own theory.

“Maybe,” the sheriff said with a worried look on his face. “Maybe.”