86 Avenue du Goulet (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 3) by Peggy A. Edelheit

Author:Peggy A. Edelheit [Edelheit, Peggy A.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Telemachus Press, LLC
Published: 2011-09-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 50

Reconsidering Risky Routes

About a hundred feet into the gardens, I began to reconsider my brilliant move in taking that route. The paths at dusk felt like a warren of uncertainty. My memory of what had happened in the alley of St. Tropez still lingered eerily.

Evergreens cast dark shadows, as did the empty pedestals scattered about. My plan was to save time, but I found myself walking slower and slower, unsure of my footsteps, once I remembered the upright stones on the edges of the paths. Caution set in. Barely able to see my shoes as I made my way, I started sliding my feet to make sure I wouldn’t trip and injure myself.

I was halfway up when I heard it, a scraping sound up ahead, maybe about fifty yards. I quickly ducked behind an evergreen and waited. …I heard it again, voices in the garden up ahead. Not from Martine’s house, but from Curat’s garden, the site of all those buried bones. I took a chance and eased over to see what was going on. I saw a light flash briefly, and then …I fell face down in the dirt.

I had forgotten about the upright stones! Stupid! I quickly rolled over and scrambled behind the evergreen again, but it was too late. Whoever they were had heard me and took off, skirting the pool and jumping the upper gate. They were soon absorbed into the shadows of the park reserve.

I waited a moment and then heard a truck start up on the street and take off. I carefully felt my way along the stone path to where they were standing. In the last bit of evening light I saw their flashlight abandoned on the dirt.

I picked it up and aimed it down at the ground. My mouth dropped open. I was staring down at a freshly dug hole, the pile of dirt mounded at its edges. My stomach turned. At the bottom of the hole were animal bones.

I saw something shiny, some type of metal tag and reached into the hole to retrieve it, then stood and aimed the flashlight to get a better look to try to read what was engraved on it. It was a pet tag. The name jumped out at me. It said ‘Sneakers,’ the name of my cat back at home.

Someone screamed, and then everything went black.

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