Death at Dark Water by John D. Nesbitt

Author:John D. Nesbitt [Nesbitt, John D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: book, mystery, ebook
ISBN: 9780843958058
Goodreads: 3067230
Publisher: Leisure Books
Published: 2008-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

In town, he let the horse drink at the stone water tank as he lifted his hat and dragged his shirtsleeve across his forehead. He felt as if he had put in a full day’s work, but in the view of a blacksmith or even a sheepherder, it was trivial play. So be it. At least he knew what he was working on, or he thought he did.

When the horse pulled his dripping muzzle up from the tank, Devon led him back to the stable and turned him in. From there he carried his duffel bag to the inn and mounted the stairs to his room, where he took off his boots and stretched out on the bed to rest.

He had put his boots on and was cleaning up for the evening meal when he heard a knock on the door. Crossing the room, he opened the door and met the dark features of the innkeeper, who had given him the room key a short while before. The man handed him a folded piece of paper, made a half-bow, and turned away. Devon unfolded the sheet of paper and read, in a clear hand, an invitation from Carlos Hernández to come and take the evening meal at his house.

Devon finished getting cleaned up and read the note again to be sure. Then he went downstairs, turned in his key, and told the landlord he had an invitation to dine elsewhere.

The long shadows of evening lay on the town as Devon made his way to the Hernández residence. He tapped on the front gate with his penknife, and in less than a minute his friend came stepping out of the house to invite him in. The man was dressed in his brown corduroy, and he seemed to have regained his composure. He was clear-eyed and clean-shaven, and his grip was firm as he shook Devon’s hand and thanked him for coming.

With the preliminary greeting taken care of, Carlos led him around the side of the house to sit at the table where they had sat the evening before. Awine bottle and two glasses stood ready.

“Let’s sit down,” said the host.

“Thank you.”

When they were seated, Carlos lifted the bottle and pointed it at Devon’s glass. “Do you care for some?”

“Certainly.”

Carlos poured dark red wine into Devon’s glass and then his own, filling each one halfway. “Salud,” he said, raising his glass to touch his guest’s.

“Salud.”

After a respectful pause to sip the wine, Carlos spoke. “And how are things for you today? Were you able to continue your artistic study?”

Devon pressed his tongue against his palate, rubbing at the dry, almost bitter taste of the wine. “Yes, I was. There is always something new to see.”

“Such a good thing, to have a purpose and to dedicate oneself.”

“It probably does not seem important to some people, but it holds my interest at the present.”

“It is your work.”

“You make it sound so big, and it is my work, at least in part. All the same,

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