Read Online Ray Elkins mystery - 02 - Color Tour by Aaron Stander - Free Book Online
Authors: Aaron Stander
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called back to work?”
Warrington’s anger flashed. “Is there anything else, sheriff?”
10
It was just a few miles from Leiston School to Nora Jennings’s home on Lake Michigan’s shore, Ray’s next destination before he began searching for Arnie Vedder. Ray pulled into Nora’s drive. The doors of her detached garage were open, and the tailgate of her Ford Explorer was ajar.
When Ray slammed his door, acacophony of barking erupted as both dogs ran to the screen door and announced his arrival. They quieted when Nora came to the door. “Going somewhere?” he asked as she unlatched the door for him.
“Just got back,” she explained. “Had to get supplies to make these guys some more food.”
“Do you think they have any idea how good they have it?” he asked, kneeling and rubbing the dogs, one with each hand. “A special diet—free-range chickens and organic brown rice with assorted vegetables mixed in.”
“Just look at them, and you’ve got your answer,” she responded with pride. “They’re ten and twelve, Ray. Look at the condition they’re in, fit and healthy.”
“I had a call early this morning, Nora.”
“I bet you did,” she responded with a knowing nod. “Jeannie, my daughter, rang you at home I bet, probably before seven.”
“She’s worried, and I think her concern is justified,” observed Ray. “Even if she hadn’t phoned, I was planning on coming by and talking to you today. In fact, I almost drove over late last night. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”
“Ray, it’s been ten years since Hugh died. Ten years I’ve been here alone and nothing has ever happened.”
“True,” agreed Ray. “But there’s never been a murder on this beach before. Everything is different now and will be until we find the murderer. “
“I’ve got protection,” Nora said. She crossed the room and pulled a double-barreled shotgun from the top of the mantle. The long, heavy old weapon loomed large against her delicate frame. “It’s loaded with buckshot, too.”
Ray crossed to her and lifted the unwieldy firearm from her grip. He inspected it carefully, noting the hammers were not cocked; then he opened the breach. Using the nails on his thumb and middle finger, he extracted the two shells and scrutinized them. After setting the cartridges on the table, he pointed the barrel toward a ceiling light in the kitchen and looked at the bore.
Nora stood a few feet away, watching Ray’s careful examination. “Well, doctor, how’s the patient’s health?”
“When was the last time this was fired?” he asked, setting the shotgun on the table.
“Well, it’s probably been awhile.”
“Nora,” he pronounced her name slowly. “How many years?”
“Before Hugh died.”
“How long?”
“Well, you know, he was sick for awhile. A few years, I guess.”
“So, what do you think, maybe fifteen years?”
“Probably less,” Nora answered, her weak smile suggested that it was probably more, and that they both knew it.
“Have you ever fired this?”
“Oh, yes,” she affirmed with great certainty. “Many times, many times. Hugh and I used to go duck hunting.”
“And you used this shotgun?”
“Well, no; I had my own gun, a twenty-gauge.”
Roy closed the breech of the empty gun and handed it back to her. “If you had to fire this antique, what would you do?”
“Easy, I’d cock it, hold it tight to my shoulder, and pull the triggers.”
“Show me how you’d cock it,” he pursued, handing the shotgun back to her.
She held the heavy gun at waist level. Using her thumb, she struggled to pull the hammer back on the right chamber. The left chamber was even more difficult. Finally, she looked up in defeat. “So what?” she asked.
“My concern is… ” He stopped. “Let me rephrase that.” He measured his words carefully. “Nora, this is a very old gun. It’s had a hard life, and it isn’t in the best shape. I’m not sure it would even be safe to
Warrington’s anger flashed. “Is there anything else, sheriff?”
10
It was just a few miles from Leiston School to Nora Jennings’s home on Lake Michigan’s shore, Ray’s next destination before he began searching for Arnie Vedder. Ray pulled into Nora’s drive. The doors of her detached garage were open, and the tailgate of her Ford Explorer was ajar.
When Ray slammed his door, acacophony of barking erupted as both dogs ran to the screen door and announced his arrival. They quieted when Nora came to the door. “Going somewhere?” he asked as she unlatched the door for him.
“Just got back,” she explained. “Had to get supplies to make these guys some more food.”
“Do you think they have any idea how good they have it?” he asked, kneeling and rubbing the dogs, one with each hand. “A special diet—free-range chickens and organic brown rice with assorted vegetables mixed in.”
“Just look at them, and you’ve got your answer,” she responded with pride. “They’re ten and twelve, Ray. Look at the condition they’re in, fit and healthy.”
“I had a call early this morning, Nora.”
“I bet you did,” she responded with a knowing nod. “Jeannie, my daughter, rang you at home I bet, probably before seven.”
“She’s worried, and I think her concern is justified,” observed Ray. “Even if she hadn’t phoned, I was planning on coming by and talking to you today. In fact, I almost drove over late last night. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”
“Ray, it’s been ten years since Hugh died. Ten years I’ve been here alone and nothing has ever happened.”
“True,” agreed Ray. “But there’s never been a murder on this beach before. Everything is different now and will be until we find the murderer. “
“I’ve got protection,” Nora said. She crossed the room and pulled a double-barreled shotgun from the top of the mantle. The long, heavy old weapon loomed large against her delicate frame. “It’s loaded with buckshot, too.”
Ray crossed to her and lifted the unwieldy firearm from her grip. He inspected it carefully, noting the hammers were not cocked; then he opened the breach. Using the nails on his thumb and middle finger, he extracted the two shells and scrutinized them. After setting the cartridges on the table, he pointed the barrel toward a ceiling light in the kitchen and looked at the bore.
Nora stood a few feet away, watching Ray’s careful examination. “Well, doctor, how’s the patient’s health?”
“When was the last time this was fired?” he asked, setting the shotgun on the table.
“Well, it’s probably been awhile.”
“Nora,” he pronounced her name slowly. “How many years?”
“Before Hugh died.”
“How long?”
“Well, you know, he was sick for awhile. A few years, I guess.”
“So, what do you think, maybe fifteen years?”
“Probably less,” Nora answered, her weak smile suggested that it was probably more, and that they both knew it.
“Have you ever fired this?”
“Oh, yes,” she affirmed with great certainty. “Many times, many times. Hugh and I used to go duck hunting.”
“And you used this shotgun?”
“Well, no; I had my own gun, a twenty-gauge.”
Roy closed the breech of the empty gun and handed it back to her. “If you had to fire this antique, what would you do?”
“Easy, I’d cock it, hold it tight to my shoulder, and pull the triggers.”
“Show me how you’d cock it,” he pursued, handing the shotgun back to her.
She held the heavy gun at waist level. Using her thumb, she struggled to pull the hammer back on the right chamber. The left chamber was even more difficult. Finally, she looked up in defeat. “So what?” she asked.
“My concern is… ” He stopped. “Let me rephrase that.” He measured his words carefully. “Nora, this is a very old gun. It’s had a hard life, and it isn’t in the best shape. I’m not sure it would even be safe to
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