Capacity for Murder (Professor Bradshaw Mysteries) by Bernadette Pajer

Author:Bernadette Pajer [Pajer, Bernadette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Historical, FICTION / Mystery & Detective / General
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2013-05-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Deputy Mitchell stood at the front desk in the foyer reading a Tacoma newspaper, a small brown paper package tied with string at his elbow.

Bradshaw asked him, “Anything exciting been happening in the world since we’ve been here?”

The deputy shook his head. “Just the usual.”

The package was addressed to Ingrid Thompson c/o Healing Sands Sanitarium, Ocean Springs, Wash. The return address was Frederick & Nelson Department Store, Seattle. On the corner of the box was an order reference name: Z. Moss.

“Deputy, are you holding this package here for some reason?”

“Me? No. It’s for Mrs. Thompson. Doc just sorted the mail.”

“You weren’t going to ask her about it?”

“No. You think I should?”

“One never knows what useful information might arrive in a package delivered to a crime scene.”

The deputy got up, setting the paper aside. “Oh.”

A shuffling sound caught Bradshaw’s ear. He looked down the hall and spied Zebediah Moss lurking outside the Healing Sands room, chewing his lip, as if unsure of entering. When he noticed Bradshaw watching him, he scurried into the library.

“Hold onto this, Deputy.” Bradshaw nodded at Ingrid’s package, then followed Moss and found him arms crossed, staring at the bookshelves. “Good afternoon, Mr. Moss.”

Moss nodded, not meeting his eye.

“Have a seat. It’s time we talked.”

Moss sat stiffly at the nearest table, arms still crossed, eyes on the shelves, jaw tight. Bradshaw sat across from him.

“Did you know the Thompsons before coming to Healing Sands?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Yes or no.”

“He works at the assay office in Seattle, don’t he?”

“Is that where you met him?”

“Mighta been.”

“He was working the day you brought in your gold?”

“That’s right.”

“How did that go?”

Moss shifted his eyes to Bradshaw’s face quickly, then looked away again. “What do you mean?”

“It’s something I’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing. You arrived by ship with other miners; there were crowds to greet you and cheer your success, and you hauled your bags up to the federal office. I’ve seen miners come in, it’s quite a production.”

Moss said, “I hired a hack to haul it up the hill.”

“A memorable day. Any trouble?”

“With what?”

“The process? Paperwork?”

“No trouble. It was fine.”

“Fine? I’d expect the experience to be more than fine.”

“Yeah, well, I expected I’d brought home more.”

“Your haul wasn’t worth as much as you anticipated?”

“It was pert near. You always hope for the high end of the estimate. Disappointing when it ain’t.” He pinched the crease of his trousers. He had thick, stubby fingers and strong, meaty hands.

“Who makes the estimate?”

“Oh, well, the experts up in Alaska. They tell ya it’ll bring between this and that, and you hope for that.”

“But you got this, the low estimate.”

“Pert near.”

“Near the low? Not even reaching the low? The estimates were off?”

“Close enough. I’m rich, ain’t I? If you’ve got a problem with the estimate or assay office, go talk to them. I’m happy and satisfied with my take.”

“Mr. Moss, I’ve observed you here at Healing Sands. You appear neither happy nor satisfied.”

“Well it ain’t got nothing to do with estimates, Professor.

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