A Time for Murder by Stacey Alabaster

Author:Stacey Alabaster [Alabaster, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fairfield Publishing
Published: 2018-07-25T05:00:00+00:00

Seemed like there was some sort of ghost haunting the park that evening. A very old ghost with a cane. The night was misty, which meant that we were going to have a clear, sunny day the following day. But in that moment, I shivered.

I used the flashlight on my phone and shone it right into the ghost’s eyes. Right. I did recognize him. He had been one of the two men digging up the time capsule. But what was he doing skulking around here at this time of the night?

I took a step closer and saw all the upturned dirt that was surrounding the time capsule hole. And then I saw what seemed like a second hole a foot away from the first one.

“Your friend was down here yesterday.”

I jumped for some reason when he spoke. I think I hadn’t expected for his voice to be so deep. “Was she now.” I just shook my head, shining my light onto the ground. “And did she see these two holes?”

He nodded. “Oh yes…” His voice became less deep and more shaky as he told me all about what he’d said to her.

I would have been annoyed if it wasn’t too expected. So typical. No wonder Alyson had been acting so weird. Now she knew that the letter wasn’t fifty years old, and she didn’t want to admit that she was wrong, even if it meant I was actually in danger. But it wasn’t just that—I actually doubted it had even occurred to her that this put me in greater danger. It was also the fact that she continuously held out on me like this, like she liked to hold the secrets over me. Like she was competing with me for who could solve the mystery the fastest. What was the point of even working together if that was the case?

The man, who told me his name was Clive, told me that he had been having grave misgivings about the time capsule since it had been dug up. He’d suspected what I’d believed all along. That foul play had been involved. He was here for the same reason I was—trying to find more clues.

“Why haven’t you told the police anything about this?” I asked, suddenly turning my anger toward him. “Someone tampered with the box. That means that the letter that was placed inside there was fresh, not fifty years old…”

“Oh, as if they will believe a doddering old fool like me,” he said bitterly. Now he was sounding angry at me. I wondered just how agile with that cane he was. Was I about to get a hit to the skull? “They will think I am just misremembering it or making it up.”

I sighed. He may have been right to have that fear. It wasn’t as though Sergeant Wells was particularly open to theories from the public. But now my life was in danger and we had to let someone know that the box had been opened recently. “You need to tell them.

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