Read Online Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp by Joan H. Young - Free Book Online

talk.
    So, not taking Detective
Milford's warning literally, I drove to Emily City, a fairly large
community in Sturgeon County, one county to the east, and pulled
into the ample parking lot at the IGA. The anonymity of shopping in
a larger store held a lot of appeal just then. If there had been a
Wal-Mart in town, I probably would have gone there just to be
surrounded by lots of shoppers I didn’t know.
    Inside the store, I was
cheered by twelve numbered aisles of canned and boxed goods and
three long outside walls lined with coolers containing produce,
meats, and dairy products. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed
having lots of choices. I pulled a cart from the rack and began
wandering through the produce section, selecting tropical fruits,
novelty squash, and an assortment of salad greens that weren't
iceberg lettuce.
    I was filling a paper bag
with bulk coffee beans when behind me a deep, familiar voice said,
“How are you, Ana?”
    I nearly jumped out of my
skin. Beans scattered on the floor. Fortunately, not too many.
Turning, I tried to kick the errant brown ovals under the display
rack. I found myself face to face with Jerry Caulfield, who was
looking highly amused.
    “Jerry!” I said. “You
scared me.”
    “I see that,” he said. “Are
you feeling guilty for shopping outside Cherry Hill?”
    “No. Not really.” I looked
around for a way to escape. “Maybe a little.”
    Jerry also had a shopping
cart. I noticed he had picked out several bottles of regional wine
and some expensive cheeses.
    “Let me guess. You just
didn’t feel like talking to Adele any more today.”
    “ Sometimes I do feel a
little overwhelmed,” I admitted. “What are you doing
here?”
    “I have an idea,” Jerry
said, ignoring my question. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Why
don’t you let me take you out to dinner tonight?”
    “Dinner? Out?” I looked
toward the store entrance again.
    “Yes, the evening meal.”
Jerry drew his hand across his upper lip, smoothing his mustache.
“People dress up, go to a restaurant, eat, talk, drink a little
wine...”
    “Um... I have these
groceries. I’m wearing clothes for a funeral.”
    “Oh, the service for Eula
Preston. Well, it’s early anyway. Why don’t I pick you up at your
place about seven?” he asked.
    “That would work,” I said.
I shook my head. “Are you serious?”
    “I am. I would very much
like to have dinner with you. As for ‘serious?’ I’m not immediately
proposing a long-term relationship, but dinner seems fairly
safe.”
    I heard myself say, “I’d
like that a lot.”
    “Good. We’ll come back to
Emily City. I had something a little nicer than the Pine Tree in
mind.”
    Jerry reached out and
lightly touched my upper arm. I was too stunned to comment as he
turned and pushed his cart toward the meat section.
     

Chapter 12
     
    After putting away over a
hundred dollars worth of groceries and household supplies I turned
on the water in the bathtub and began to shuffle clothes in my
closet in anticipation of the evening. I hadn’t paid this much
attention to what I would wear since attending Mosè in Egitto over a year ago at the Chicago Opera Theater. My
plum-colored skirt, coupled with a deep gold silk blouse, accented
with a scarf in swirled fall tones, which included the plum and
gold, seemed subtly elegant, but not too dressy. Jerry was tall, so
I also laid out a pair of heels.
    As I slid into the warm
bathwater, I realized I was both excited and apprehensive. Jerry
was a sophisticated and respected man, not to mention good-looking.
I’d been treated to a light breakfast at his home, back in May,
when I’d first met him. Since then, we’d never exchanged more than
a few words at a time, always at public gatherings. His position as
owner and editor of the newspaper kept him from slipping into the
quagmire of gossip that Adele so loved, and yet his ability to gain
information and insight into local happenings was excellent, as
borne