Death in the Park (Firefly Junction Cozy Mystery Book 1) by London Lovett

Author:London Lovett [Lovett, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Fox Press
Published: 2018-02-17T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

I was someone who tended to push harder when things got tough. It was the only way to be successful as a journalist. And when someone as cocky and smug as Detective Jackson got in my way, I not only pushed harder, I climbed, jumped and if necessary tunneled to get to the story. In this case, no physical exertion or dynamite for tunnels was needed. I reached into my purse and pulled out the bright yellow visitor's pass sticker I'd carefully peeled from my shirt the day before. The fuzz of shirt fabric had dulled the stickiness, so I'd stuck doubled sided tape on the back. I pressed it against my shirt. The tape was weak but it would suffice. I didn't plan to stay long.

On my long walk around campus the day before, I took note of places where I could park my car to avoid both the school parking lot near the office and the lengthy walk back to the car if I used my secret back entrance. And since I was using a recycled visitor's pass, I had no choice but to use the back gate. I knew I was pushing the boundary on the rules, but I was determined to get answers to some questions. I left the pawn shop disappointed that I wasn't able to hear the rest of the conversation between Detective Jackson and Dick Larson, but a few intriguing details came to light while I was lurking behind the book rack. The gun used to kill Alder Stevens had been taken from the pawn shop, from a locked cabinet, no less. And the bullets were taken from the same shop. It had to be someone who had access to both the cabinet and the storage cupboards in back. And that someone seemed to be Larson's daughter, Belinda. I didn't have definitive proof that Belinda was the same girl I'd spoken to the day before, but since Larson mentioned she worked after school and he was a resident of Smithville, I was feeling pretty certain.

I parked the jeep a few blocks away from the back entrance. My biggest obstacle was the long meandering stretch of asphalt leading up to and through the back gate. The kitchen windows looked out onto the back lot, most likely so the staff could keep an eye out for truck deliveries. And something told me, Ms. Mills, the kitchen manager watched the back gate like a hawk. That stretch of asphalt was a black line through a flat, virtually landscape free patch of dirt, so there was no place to duck out of sight. Anyone walking along that path would be easy to spot from the kitchen windows.

I was considering my options, which other than running like a cheetah toward the back gate, weren't many. But I got lucky. I reached the asphalt delivery road and saw that the entire set of kitchen windows was blocked by a large box truck. The delivery man was just lowering his ramp as I stepped onto the path.

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