Before There Were Skeletons by Judy Penz Sheluk

Author:Judy Penz Sheluk [Penz Sheluk, Judy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Superior Shores Press

36

It was almost two o’clock by the time I left Poppy’s office, and while I knew Loretta Dartmoor’s shift ended in an hour, my stomach was rumbling, the two oatmeal cookies I’d had for breakfast a distant memory. I stopped at a convenience store, grabbed a can of club soda and a pre-made tuna salad wrap with a Best Before date of three days from now—I didn’t want to think about what preservatives were in that wrap to make it last that long—and ate and drank on the drive to the Miakoda Hills Sales Office.

I arrived at the gated entrance minutes later. The sales center was on my left. I pulled into the parking lot, checked my teeth in the rearview mirror for specks of food, popped in a breath mint, and got out of the car.

The sales office looked like a model home from the outside, but resembled a hotel lobby inside. There was a reception desk in the middle and seating areas situated on either side. A couple in their early sixties was perched on one of the taupe suede sofas and were leafing through a brochure. Loretta was working at the reception desk and conveniently wore a name tag.

I’d half expected the woman who demanded to be called Miss—not Ms.— Dartmoor to resemble a caricature of a spinster schoolteacher, with heavily etched crow’s-feet, starched collar, and iron gray hair tied into a tight bun. The woman who was sizing me up was both attractive and mirthful, with shoulder-length auburn hair streaked with silver. I couldn’t imagine how she’d earned her nickname Miss Dark Mood and hoped I’d age half as well.

“How can I help you, Miss…”

“Barnstable. Callie.”

“Miss Barnstable. You’ll forgive my saying, but you seem a bit young for the Miakoda Hills crowd. Unless you’re here for a relative?”

I shook my head. “Nothing like that. I’m the owner of Past & Present Investigations. We’re based out of Marketville.” I slid a business card across the counter. “I was hoping to speak to you about a cold case I’m working on.”

That netted me a raised eyebrow from Loretta and furtive looks from the couple on the sofa.

“How cold?” Loretta asked.

“1995.”

She flicked a glance at the couple, who had dropped all pretense of leafing through the brochure. “There’s a coffee shop on the corner, Café Culture. You would have driven by it on your way in. I can meet you there after my shift ends at three. They won’t mind if you wait, as long as you pay for refills and don’t nurse the same cup of coffee for an hour. Try to get a booth in the corner if you can.”

It would mean killing forty-five minutes when I’d hoped to do this here and now, but I also knew the offer might not be repeated.

I offered up a grateful smile. “I can do that.”

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