Read Online Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) by C. J. Carmichael - Free Book Online
Authors: C. J. Carmichael
Tags: General Fiction
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smooth Colombian roast, but fell short in the delivery.
It was quarter to ten when he finally grabbed his laptop case and left the motel. The sky was clear blue again today, but a mist hung over the shore. But God, the air tasted good. Thick and salty. He crossed the highway, passed by the Ranger Station, then turned onto Driftwood Lane without seeing a soul. He’d pass the time before Jamie’s lunch break by doing a little research.
Charlotte was sitting at the front desk of the library when he walked in. He inhaled the comforting aroma of old books. Felt the muscles in his shoulders and neck relax.
“Hi, Dougal. I’ve just received a long fax from the Pendleton Library. They’ve sent a copy of Mari Beamish’s obituary for you and the main articles that were published about her murder.”
Right down to business. No mention of seeing him on the beach last night. Nor about the scene at the Linger Longer yesterday. He appreciated her discretion.
“Thank you.”
She wore another gray skirt and matching sweater, both cut so conservatively, she could have time-travelled from the fifties. Did she downplay her looks on purpose?
He found a table in the back corner and settled in to read. A few people came and went. Besides Charlotte, there was another woman working at the library. Older, almost retirement age, he would guess. Not very friendly.
At eleven o’clock, Charlotte asked him how things were going.
“It’s been interesting. The facts, and the lack of success with the investigation, are disturbingly similar to Elva Mae’s homicide. But I was wondering if I could take a look at the archives for the Curry County Reporter ? While I’m here I might as well dig into those—see if they mention anything about the murders.”
“Current issues are on microfiche, but if you want to go back to the seventies, we’ll need to reference originals.” Charlotte caught the eye of the older woman, who was re-shelving books in a quiet, methodical manner.
“Abigail, I’m going to show Dougal the archives in the basement. Keep an eye on things, okay?”
“Of course.”
Dougal followed Charlotte downstairs into the windowless basement. The space was well lit, painted a gleaming cream color and filled with rows of shelving units.
“Smells like paint.”
“Amos just finished building us some extra shelving units. We figured we might as well have the place painted at the same time.” She peered at the labels on one of the bookcases. “Just around this corner.”
As he followed, he was suddenly reminded of his dream. The basement setting had been similar to this one, only darker. With sudden insight, it occurred to him that both Elva Mae and Mari could have been attacked from the rear while looking for reference materials, just as Charlotte was doing right now.
Dougal clenched his hands, relaxed, and then balled them again. What had the murderer been thinking as he lured the helpless women to their deaths? Had he been excited? Angry? Calm and collected?
“Here they are.” Charlotte indicated a shelving unit filled with back issues of the local paper. “Everything you need should be in this box.”
She wouldn’t sound so cheerful if she knew what he’d just been thinking. Dougal forced a smile. He scared himself sometimes with his crazy thoughts. “Great.” As he grabbed the cardboard container, he noticed another set of boxes on the adjacent shelving unit. “ Oregon Library Association ,” he read. “What’s in there?”
“Quarterly publications from our state library association. My Aunt was the president of the board for a number of years. Our collection of newsletters dates back to that time.”
“Hm. Mind if I take a look through these, as well?”
“Help yourself. But none of this reference material can leave the premises.”
He nodded, grabbed a second box and followed Charlotte up the stairs. On the way he asked, “So how long have you and Wade been seeing each other?”
She hesitated.
It was quarter to ten when he finally grabbed his laptop case and left the motel. The sky was clear blue again today, but a mist hung over the shore. But God, the air tasted good. Thick and salty. He crossed the highway, passed by the Ranger Station, then turned onto Driftwood Lane without seeing a soul. He’d pass the time before Jamie’s lunch break by doing a little research.
Charlotte was sitting at the front desk of the library when he walked in. He inhaled the comforting aroma of old books. Felt the muscles in his shoulders and neck relax.
“Hi, Dougal. I’ve just received a long fax from the Pendleton Library. They’ve sent a copy of Mari Beamish’s obituary for you and the main articles that were published about her murder.”
Right down to business. No mention of seeing him on the beach last night. Nor about the scene at the Linger Longer yesterday. He appreciated her discretion.
“Thank you.”
She wore another gray skirt and matching sweater, both cut so conservatively, she could have time-travelled from the fifties. Did she downplay her looks on purpose?
He found a table in the back corner and settled in to read. A few people came and went. Besides Charlotte, there was another woman working at the library. Older, almost retirement age, he would guess. Not very friendly.
At eleven o’clock, Charlotte asked him how things were going.
“It’s been interesting. The facts, and the lack of success with the investigation, are disturbingly similar to Elva Mae’s homicide. But I was wondering if I could take a look at the archives for the Curry County Reporter ? While I’m here I might as well dig into those—see if they mention anything about the murders.”
“Current issues are on microfiche, but if you want to go back to the seventies, we’ll need to reference originals.” Charlotte caught the eye of the older woman, who was re-shelving books in a quiet, methodical manner.
“Abigail, I’m going to show Dougal the archives in the basement. Keep an eye on things, okay?”
“Of course.”
Dougal followed Charlotte downstairs into the windowless basement. The space was well lit, painted a gleaming cream color and filled with rows of shelving units.
“Smells like paint.”
“Amos just finished building us some extra shelving units. We figured we might as well have the place painted at the same time.” She peered at the labels on one of the bookcases. “Just around this corner.”
As he followed, he was suddenly reminded of his dream. The basement setting had been similar to this one, only darker. With sudden insight, it occurred to him that both Elva Mae and Mari could have been attacked from the rear while looking for reference materials, just as Charlotte was doing right now.
Dougal clenched his hands, relaxed, and then balled them again. What had the murderer been thinking as he lured the helpless women to their deaths? Had he been excited? Angry? Calm and collected?
“Here they are.” Charlotte indicated a shelving unit filled with back issues of the local paper. “Everything you need should be in this box.”
She wouldn’t sound so cheerful if she knew what he’d just been thinking. Dougal forced a smile. He scared himself sometimes with his crazy thoughts. “Great.” As he grabbed the cardboard container, he noticed another set of boxes on the adjacent shelving unit. “ Oregon Library Association ,” he read. “What’s in there?”
“Quarterly publications from our state library association. My Aunt was the president of the board for a number of years. Our collection of newsletters dates back to that time.”
“Hm. Mind if I take a look through these, as well?”
“Help yourself. But none of this reference material can leave the premises.”
He nodded, grabbed a second box and followed Charlotte up the stairs. On the way he asked, “So how long have you and Wade been seeing each other?”
She hesitated.
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