Read Online The Dead Man in Indian Creek by Mary Downing Hahn - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Downing Hahn
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Mystery and detective stories
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guess so."
Wheeling around, Parker stared at me. His face was flushed, but he'd gotten himself under control. Lowering his voice even though Pam was in the shower, he said, "We'll go to the Olde Mill and find out what's going on. Okay?"
10
B Y THE TIME I got home, Mom was in the middle of packaging her ornaments for the Fall Festival. When I asked her if I could spend the night at Parker's, all she said was to be home before noon on Sunday. "I'm counting on you to help at the booth tomorrow."
Then, just as I was getting ready to leave, she added, "Don't stay out too late trick and treating, Matt. Whoever murdered that man is still loose."
With those cheerful words ringing in my ears, I rode my bike back to Parker's house. As I skidded to a stop in the driveway, I saw Pam and Evans coming out the front door.
"Make sure Parker behaves himself." Pam smiled at me as if the scene in the kitchen had never taken place. "I know I can trust you to be sensible, Matt. No tricks, just treats. And don't eat too much candy."
I stood on the steps and watched her for a moment. She was wearing a long-sleeved blouse with a low, lacy neckline, and her dark flowered skirt swirled when she moved. As she turned to wave good-bye to Parker, her hair shone in the late afternoon sunlight. Then, her bracelets jingling, she took Evans's arm and walked down the sidewalk toward the MG.
Although Pam didn't seem to notice or even to care, Parker hadn't come to the doorway to wave to her, and Evans didn't say one word to me. His face expressionless, the man ignored both me and Otis who was barking furiously at him from the living room window.
The MG's engine kicked noisily into life and the two of them drove away, leaving the street duller and quieter as they vanished down a tunnel of yellow leaves.
Parker came up behind me so silently he startled me. "She won't be back until late tomorrow, I bet," he said. "Maybe not till Monday."
"She's so beautiful," I said more to myself than him.
"That was one of her new outfits," Parker said as I followed him into the house. "Where's the money coming from for clothes like that? Or for all this other stuff?" His gesture took in the TV and the VCR as well as a leather reclining chair I hadn't noticed before. "She's in trouble, Armentrout, I know she is."
Glumly, I slumped on the old sofa and watched Parker turn on the VCR. In honor of Halloween, Pam had brought home three videos to keep us entertained, and Parker had one of them,
The Night of the
Living Dead,
ready to play. When I realized what it was, I groaned.
"We've seen this at least half a dozen times," I said.
"And it still scares you, right?"
"No," I lied, "it bores me to death. What else do you have?"
"
Friday the Thirteenth
and
Nightmare on Elm Street.
" Parker grinned. "What were you hoping for,
Bambin?
"
After the living dead had killed off just about everybody, Parker called the pizza place and ordered a large tomato and cheese with mushrooms, green peppers, meatballs, onions, and anchovies on top. Since the delivery man came to Parker's house pretty regularly, he got it to us in less than fifteen minutes.
"Those dead guys in the movie," Parker said after we'd devoured most of the pizza. "Didn't they remind you of the man we found in the creek?"
The man's face flashed before me, and I had to force myself to swallow my pizza. "Hey, Parker," I said, "not while we're eating."
He shoved the
Sentinel
at me. "Did you see this?" He pointed at an article about the murder. "They identified him. His name's Albert Dawson, and he's got a record as long as your arm. See? Drugs, assault, armed robbery, all kinds of parole violations."
I scanned the article, written, of course, by our old friend Julius Fisk. "The cops are still saying it's drug related and it doesn't have anything to do with Woodcroft. They think he just ended up here," I said.
Parker shook his head. "Well, we're going to prove the cops are wrong." Tossing his empty soda can into the
Wheeling around, Parker stared at me. His face was flushed, but he'd gotten himself under control. Lowering his voice even though Pam was in the shower, he said, "We'll go to the Olde Mill and find out what's going on. Okay?"
10
B Y THE TIME I got home, Mom was in the middle of packaging her ornaments for the Fall Festival. When I asked her if I could spend the night at Parker's, all she said was to be home before noon on Sunday. "I'm counting on you to help at the booth tomorrow."
Then, just as I was getting ready to leave, she added, "Don't stay out too late trick and treating, Matt. Whoever murdered that man is still loose."
With those cheerful words ringing in my ears, I rode my bike back to Parker's house. As I skidded to a stop in the driveway, I saw Pam and Evans coming out the front door.
"Make sure Parker behaves himself." Pam smiled at me as if the scene in the kitchen had never taken place. "I know I can trust you to be sensible, Matt. No tricks, just treats. And don't eat too much candy."
I stood on the steps and watched her for a moment. She was wearing a long-sleeved blouse with a low, lacy neckline, and her dark flowered skirt swirled when she moved. As she turned to wave good-bye to Parker, her hair shone in the late afternoon sunlight. Then, her bracelets jingling, she took Evans's arm and walked down the sidewalk toward the MG.
Although Pam didn't seem to notice or even to care, Parker hadn't come to the doorway to wave to her, and Evans didn't say one word to me. His face expressionless, the man ignored both me and Otis who was barking furiously at him from the living room window.
The MG's engine kicked noisily into life and the two of them drove away, leaving the street duller and quieter as they vanished down a tunnel of yellow leaves.
Parker came up behind me so silently he startled me. "She won't be back until late tomorrow, I bet," he said. "Maybe not till Monday."
"She's so beautiful," I said more to myself than him.
"That was one of her new outfits," Parker said as I followed him into the house. "Where's the money coming from for clothes like that? Or for all this other stuff?" His gesture took in the TV and the VCR as well as a leather reclining chair I hadn't noticed before. "She's in trouble, Armentrout, I know she is."
Glumly, I slumped on the old sofa and watched Parker turn on the VCR. In honor of Halloween, Pam had brought home three videos to keep us entertained, and Parker had one of them,
The Night of the
Living Dead,
ready to play. When I realized what it was, I groaned.
"We've seen this at least half a dozen times," I said.
"And it still scares you, right?"
"No," I lied, "it bores me to death. What else do you have?"
"
Friday the Thirteenth
and
Nightmare on Elm Street.
" Parker grinned. "What were you hoping for,
Bambin?
"
After the living dead had killed off just about everybody, Parker called the pizza place and ordered a large tomato and cheese with mushrooms, green peppers, meatballs, onions, and anchovies on top. Since the delivery man came to Parker's house pretty regularly, he got it to us in less than fifteen minutes.
"Those dead guys in the movie," Parker said after we'd devoured most of the pizza. "Didn't they remind you of the man we found in the creek?"
The man's face flashed before me, and I had to force myself to swallow my pizza. "Hey, Parker," I said, "not while we're eating."
He shoved the
Sentinel
at me. "Did you see this?" He pointed at an article about the murder. "They identified him. His name's Albert Dawson, and he's got a record as long as your arm. See? Drugs, assault, armed robbery, all kinds of parole violations."
I scanned the article, written, of course, by our old friend Julius Fisk. "The cops are still saying it's drug related and it doesn't have anything to do with Woodcroft. They think he just ended up here," I said.
Parker shook his head. "Well, we're going to prove the cops are wrong." Tossing his empty soda can into the
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