Read Online A Death in Duck: Lindsay Harding Cozy Mystery Series (Reverend Lindsay Harding Mystery Book 2) by Mindy Quigley - Free Book Online
Authors: Mindy Quigley
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disappointment in her voice. “It’s okay. I should probably stop by to see my dad anyway. He’s still laid up with that slipped disc. He can hardly get out of bed.”
“Poor guy. It’s a shame that he’ll be alone for Christmas.”
“Oh, he won’t be alone. He’s a handsome, newly-single pastor. It’s hard enough to find any single men around here, but a single Christian man who still has all his hair? He’s not just a catch; he’s the dating equivalent of a 15-pound largemouth bass. Ever since my parents’ divorce was finalized, the middle-aged ladies of Mount Moriah have been practically clawing each other’s eyes out for the chance to cook his supper and clean house for him. Last time I went over there, I almost had to break up a fight between two women from his congregation who’d both brought him homemade Brunswick stew,” Lindsay said. “Anyway, what’s keeping you so busy this close to Christmas?”
“We got some new information about Lydia Sikes’s death. It wasn’t a suicide. That’s for sure.”
“So your hunch was right.”
“Can’t say that I’m too pleased about it. If I’d’a had any inkling about how dangerous Swoopes was, I’d have done my damndest to make sure he stayed locked up. I can’t believe what a close shave you had with that man.”
“We don’t know Swoopes killed her, right?” Lindsay asked.
“All’s I’m saying is, until we figure out who did this, I want you to be careful. With the link between Swoopes and your mother, this whole thing is a little too close to you for my comfort. I’m glad you’re getting out of Mount Moriah for the week.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, you’re coming out to the Outer Banks for New Year’s Eve, so I’ll have New Albany’s finest as my personal bodyguard.”
Warren paused. “Lins, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I might have to work all week.”
“What?! You swore you’d come no matter what!”
“I know the wedding’s important to you, but at the end of the day, it’s just a party with your friends. A woman’s murder has to take precedence.”
Lindsay thought about Geneva’s advice. If she loved Warren, she shouldn’t say what she was thinking. She shouldn’t tell him that his dedication to work struck her as a form of selfishness, as a way of avoiding living a real life, and, she feared, avoiding really being with her. The angry words boiled up in her throat with such force that she had to physically pinch her lips shut with her fingers for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “You’re right, honey. You’re such a hard worker.”
Warren had seemed poised to smash her words back at her. He sputtered, momentarily disarmed. “Well, this is an important case. There have been major developments.” He paused, going through the usual pantomime of keeping the details of the investigation confidential. He would invariably drop a tantalizing detail and wait for her to press him for more information. Without fail, he would confide in her eventually, using her as a sounding board for theories about the cases he worked, and gleaning new ideas from her fast-firing brain.
“You might as well just tell me,” Lindsay said, refusing to engage with the well-established charade.
“Well,” Warren began, “there were some surprises in the postmortem and the ballistics tests. It appears that a different gun killed Lydia Sikes than what was found with her body. The bullet that killed her came from an antique Smith and Wesson Model 29, like what Dirty Harry used in the movie. Real big sucker, and they don’t come cheap. We’re talking thousands for one in top condition.
“The gun that was found in her hand was a run-of-the-mill Beretta. The registered owner ran a bait and tackle store in Winston-Salem. But he’s been dead for two years. Nobody’s sure where the Beretta went after that, but generally speaking those guns aren’t hard to come by. You can get a new one down at Walmart for a few hundred
“Poor guy. It’s a shame that he’ll be alone for Christmas.”
“Oh, he won’t be alone. He’s a handsome, newly-single pastor. It’s hard enough to find any single men around here, but a single Christian man who still has all his hair? He’s not just a catch; he’s the dating equivalent of a 15-pound largemouth bass. Ever since my parents’ divorce was finalized, the middle-aged ladies of Mount Moriah have been practically clawing each other’s eyes out for the chance to cook his supper and clean house for him. Last time I went over there, I almost had to break up a fight between two women from his congregation who’d both brought him homemade Brunswick stew,” Lindsay said. “Anyway, what’s keeping you so busy this close to Christmas?”
“We got some new information about Lydia Sikes’s death. It wasn’t a suicide. That’s for sure.”
“So your hunch was right.”
“Can’t say that I’m too pleased about it. If I’d’a had any inkling about how dangerous Swoopes was, I’d have done my damndest to make sure he stayed locked up. I can’t believe what a close shave you had with that man.”
“We don’t know Swoopes killed her, right?” Lindsay asked.
“All’s I’m saying is, until we figure out who did this, I want you to be careful. With the link between Swoopes and your mother, this whole thing is a little too close to you for my comfort. I’m glad you’re getting out of Mount Moriah for the week.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, you’re coming out to the Outer Banks for New Year’s Eve, so I’ll have New Albany’s finest as my personal bodyguard.”
Warren paused. “Lins, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I might have to work all week.”
“What?! You swore you’d come no matter what!”
“I know the wedding’s important to you, but at the end of the day, it’s just a party with your friends. A woman’s murder has to take precedence.”
Lindsay thought about Geneva’s advice. If she loved Warren, she shouldn’t say what she was thinking. She shouldn’t tell him that his dedication to work struck her as a form of selfishness, as a way of avoiding living a real life, and, she feared, avoiding really being with her. The angry words boiled up in her throat with such force that she had to physically pinch her lips shut with her fingers for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “You’re right, honey. You’re such a hard worker.”
Warren had seemed poised to smash her words back at her. He sputtered, momentarily disarmed. “Well, this is an important case. There have been major developments.” He paused, going through the usual pantomime of keeping the details of the investigation confidential. He would invariably drop a tantalizing detail and wait for her to press him for more information. Without fail, he would confide in her eventually, using her as a sounding board for theories about the cases he worked, and gleaning new ideas from her fast-firing brain.
“You might as well just tell me,” Lindsay said, refusing to engage with the well-established charade.
“Well,” Warren began, “there were some surprises in the postmortem and the ballistics tests. It appears that a different gun killed Lydia Sikes than what was found with her body. The bullet that killed her came from an antique Smith and Wesson Model 29, like what Dirty Harry used in the movie. Real big sucker, and they don’t come cheap. We’re talking thousands for one in top condition.
“The gun that was found in her hand was a run-of-the-mill Beretta. The registered owner ran a bait and tackle store in Winston-Salem. But he’s been dead for two years. Nobody’s sure where the Beretta went after that, but generally speaking those guns aren’t hard to come by. You can get a new one down at Walmart for a few hundred
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