Read Online B.B. Cantwell - Portland Bookmobile 02 - Corpse of Discovery by B.B. Cantwell - Free Book Online

triumphant grin. Hester smiled in appreciation, and privately
appreciated watching Darrow arch his luxuriant eyebrows. Pim was obviously
enjoying her day in the spotlight. The bookmobile driver didn’t pause long.
    “Pomp is such a
practical joker. You know what he did today? Hester, you remember that awful
raccoon hat he wore in the parade?”
    Hester shuddered
and nodded.
    “Well he shows
up today for our practice and we all see that he’s wearing that awful hat
again. So we just try to ignore it, until halfway into the shooting practice,
see, he suddenly reaches into the pocket of his buckskin coat, pulls out a tin
of sardines, cracks it open and starts feeding them to his hat!”
    Quizzical looks
from Hester and Nate brought a huge laugh from Pim, who eagerly continued.
    “It turns out
that not only does he have that awful hat, he also has a real, live pet raccoon
that he’s trained to sit on his head! He calls it Meriwether, just as a poke in
the eye to old Lewis, who apparently never liked the original Charbonneau!”
    Satisfied that
her anecdote had properly mystified them, she returned to the subject of the
shooting demonstration.
    “Oh, and what
visitors are really going to love – it’s not just with muskets. Pomp has this
classic French flintlock pistol that actually was used by his
great-great-granddaddy-whatever when he was with the Corps of Discovery,” Pim
added, mispronouncing “Corps” like “corpse,” as if talking about a dead body.
    Darrow, whose earlier
eyebrow arching was mostly polite pretense, had been absently eyeing the
jodhpur-clad maitre d’, whose lack of customers had led him to fuss over table
settings. The fussing had now evolved into maniacal glass polishing two tables
away from them, his back turned.
    But at Pim’s
latest statement Darrow sat up straight and tuned into what she’d said.
    “What? You say
he has an old flintlock pistol? That shoots lead balls?”
    Pim reveled in
the interest, taking a long sip of the tooth-curlingly sweet riesling before
responding.
    “Sure, it’s
pretty much the same kind of ammo they use in the muskets. Why are you so
interested, Inspector?”
    Darrow hesitated
just a moment before his intuition told him this was a time to share a
confidence.
    “It turns out
that some kind of musket-ball gun might have been involved in Pieter van Dyke’s
murder,” he said, “and it would make sense that it was a pistol, in the
circumstances.”
     As a look of
consternation crossed Pim’s face, Darrow quickly continued. 
    “Don’t get me
wrong, I’m not suggesting your friend had anything to do with it, but if he knows
a lot about guns like that I’m thinking he might help me learn more about what
we’re looking for. Does he live nearby?”
    Pim squinted at
him, then seemed satisfied with his response.
    “Well, actually
he lives out in the wine country, out toward McMinnville. Being a Frenchie, he’s
started making wine in his barn, and it’s almost as good as this!” she said,
holding aloft her glass of Blue Nun.
    Before Darrow could
ask more, the maitre d’ was suddenly clearing his throat behind him, making
Nate jump.
    “So, what can I
bring you folks for lunch?” he asked.
    After they all
agreed on the daily special of bratwurst on kaiser rolls with sides of German
potato salad and house-made sauerkraut, their host retreated to the kitchen.
    “Goodness, the
poor man has to do everything here, I guess,” Hester observed sympathetically, trying
to steer the birthday conversation away from murder. “This place used to be so
popular. I wonder if they’re doing OK?”
     “You know, it’s
just not fair how the health crazies have given hot dogs and sausages a bad rap
lately,” Pim responded, speaking with the irresistible charm of a fanatic. “There
used to be five Wiener Dogs around Portland, all with happy wagging signs, and
since everybody started eating sushi, one by one the Wieners have shut down so
now there’s just this