Read Online Murder Comes by Mail by A. H. Gabhart - Free Book Online Page A

about some coffee and a blueberry muffin?”
    “You’ve already had a Danish today, Hank,” she told him.
    “That was so early it was practically last night, and we’re just talking about one muffin. What harm can one little muffin do?”
    “Look in the mirror.” Cindy gave him the once-over when she brought the coffee and muffin. “And check your blood pressure.”
    “It’s this job and trying to keep up with our heroes.” Hank pulled the saucer with the muffin closer to him as if he was worried Cindy might grab it back. “Did you see our local boy make good on television last night, Cindy?”
    Cindy pushed her short red hair back from her face and beamed at Michael. “I sure did. Albert brought the little TV from home and set it up on the counter. Nobody so much as chewed until they went to a commercial. You looked very handsome, Michael.”
    “He did.” Hank shot a grin over at Michael. “I expect he could probably get a job at one of the Eagleton used car lots now without a bit of trouble.”
    “If things get too slow here in Hidden Springs, I’ll send out résumés.” Michael scanned the headlines on the clippings. He was relieved none of them included the word hero .
    “Things are always slow here in Hidden Springs,” Hank said.
    “Come around Sunday after church lets out and try keeping enough chicken fried to feed the Baptists and Methodists,” Cindy said.
    “I’m talking about news, Cindy.” Hank took a gulp of his coffee.
    “You mean like folks trying to jump off bridges.” Cindy picked up the sugar shaker and swiped up a drop or two of spilled coffee. “I’d rather read about Zelma Ann’s granddaughter winning a scholarship to that art school in Virginia.”
    “I told your sister I’d put that in the paper next week.”
    “That’s the trouble with newspapermen. They don’t ever want to write nothing but bad news. A kid gets in trouble, it’s plastered all over page one, right enough. A kid does something good, then maybe a mention on page four in section three.”
    “The Gazette hasn’t had three sections since last year’s Christmas parade.”
    “See what I mean?” Cindy stuck her wipe towel in her apron and headed toward the kitchen.
    Hank looked at his almost-empty coffee cup and then Michael. “What do you think my chances are on getting a refill?”
    “About the same as Zelma’s granddaughter making the front page.”
    “Now I was thinking about sticking it down in the corner on the front page if nothing too exciting happened this next week.” He took a little sip of coffee as if trying to conserve what was left. “You think anything exciting is going to happen this week, Deputy?”
    “I hope not.” Michael stood up and dropped some money on the table.
    Hank stuffed the rest of his muffin in his mouth, grabbed up the clippings, and tagged after Michael. When he swallowed, he said, “You might make some people believe that, but not me. Weathermen like storms and policemen like knocking heads with bad guys.”
    “You’ve got it all wrong. Policemen like getting bad guys off the streets so all the regular folks are safe and happy.”
    “So if you like locking bad guys away, that means you have to like murders and robberies, because without something like that, there aren’t any bad guys to get off the street.”
    “What do newspapermen like?” Michael asked.
    “News, of course. A rare commodity in Hidden Springs, I must say.”
    “Then why are you here?” Michael looked back at Hank as he held the door open for him.
    “I tell myself it’s the challenge. You know, finding news where there is no news, and then every once in a while some nutcase tries to jump off a bridge and I get to take pictures of a hero.”
    “I’m no hero.” Michael let go of the door. It banged into Hank’s shoulder.
    “You’ll do till Superman shows up.” Hank pushed on through the door and waved the papers in front of Michael’s face. “Don’t you want to read what the