Birds of a Feather by Harper Crowley

Author:Harper Crowley [Crowley, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Crowley
Published: 2020-04-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

I only get a couple of hours of sleep before the police call. Still groggy, I stumble into the kitchen and brew a cup of coffee while telling them I’d found the key.

“Did you open it?” Detective Landry asks. He’s a real no-nonsense kind of guy.

“Yeah.” I blurt out without thinking. I should have come up with a cover story. Crap. “I didn’t think it mattered, and I could save you a trip if there wasn’t anything important.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, next time leave the investigating to us.” Then he sighs. “What did you find?”

I tell him about the birth certificate and the deed.

“Was there anything else? Any valuables?”

Time for another partial truth. “Nope. Just that.” Without thinking, I cross my fingers behind my back.

“Hmm. Still, I’d still like to send out an officer to take a look.”

“That’s fine.” A thought hits me, and I say it without thinking. “You don’t get a lot of crime like this, do you?”

He lets out a self-conscious chuckle. “No. I’ve been here three years, and this is my first murder. I hope you don’t judge our town too harshly. Tranquility Falls is a quiet place, and we do our best to keep it that way.”

“Sorry, that was rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He asks me what a good time would be to have his officer come by, and I suggest that afternoon.

“If you don’t mind waiting until then,” I say. “I’d like to get out and explore the town a bit while I’m still here.” This is not a complete lie.

“Of course. Thank you for being so accommodating,” he says.

By the time we hang up, the coffee pot has stopped percolating, and I pour myself a steaming cup. Adrenaline hums under my skin. There’s no going to sleep now. Might as well make it a two-cups-before-noon kind of day. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, so that’s saying something.

Before I leave, I tuck my aunt’s black book into my purse. Given the attempted break-in, I don’t want to take too many chances. The library is the perfect place to make copies, just in case. Just in case you give the book to the cops, or just in case someone steals it? Either.

Tranquility Falls Library is a squat cement building with wide windows and short, round hedges lining the outside. Inside, rows of bookshelves fan out, each labeled by genre and authors’ last names to help the patrons find the books they want. A young woman with a wide smile and curly blond hair perches on a tall stool behind the front counter.

“Hi, welcome to Tranquility Falls Library. I’m Melody. How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Willa, I’m—”

“The girl from the bookstore,” she says in a rush, the words tumbling over each other. “Yeah, I know you. Everyone knows you. This is so cool. Are you looking for a book? Who am I kidding? You have a store full of books. You don’t need any of ours. Is there something else I can help you with? We have internet.

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