Fire And Ice (Locust Point Mystery Book 10) by Libby Howard

Author:Libby Howard [Howard, Libby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

We waited out front until an unmarked Crown Victorian pulled up and a sturdy man stepped out. Detective Bruce Burnside wore a pair of khakis and a white button-down with a coffee stain partially concealed by a burgundy tie that had white-and-blue diagonal stripes across its wide width. The tie ended a few inches above his waistband.

Maybelle made the introductions, then the detective surprised me by shooing both women away.

“Go home,” he informed them. “I’ll give Ms. Carrera a ride back to the resort. I don’t need the pair of you gossips screwing up the only murder case we’ve had in years. Go on, now.”

Evie and Maybelle complained, but finally complied, Evie pantomiming that she’d call me later. Since I’d never given her my cell phone number, I assumed she would be trying to reach me at the lodge.

Burnside waited until the women had driven away before turning to me. “So, Ms. Carrera, Maybelle tells me that you’re a private investigator?” This detective seemed more enthusiastic about that fact than other officers I’d encountered.

“Yes, but I’m not working a case.” Hopefully, that would reassure him that I wouldn’t be poking my nose around in his investigation. After all, I was on vacation.

Who was I fooling? I would absolutely be poking my nose into this investigation. I was too curious to do otherwise. That’s the whole reason I was here, at the scene of the arson and murder, pointing out something that could be a key bit of evidence.

“My family’s been in law enforcement since the early twentieth century,” Burnside proudly informed me. “Ever since great-grandad solved his father’s murder.”

If he’d wanted to hook me into a story, he couldn’t have done better. “What happened to your great-grandad’s father?”

Detective Burnside squared his shoulders and planted his feet, obviously settling in for an epic tale.

“See, great-great-grandad Joe was buried with a wooden head because my great-great-grandma was a good Irish woman, and she wasn’t going to let her husband go into the ground without a proper wake, and you can’t exactly have a proper wake around a body that doesn’t have a head.”

This story was worth coming to Colorado alone. I had so many questions. “Had your great-great-grandpa’s head been so damaged during whatever had caused his death that his wife couldn’t cover it with something? His hat, maybe?”

“Nope, it was ‘cause his head was gone. Missing. Never found.” Detective Burnside cheerfully informed me. “He was run over by a carriage out by Kelly Junction. A neighboring farmer found him the next day when he was taking his cows to water. Joe’s head was gone. Everyone figured a coyote took it or something. Good thing he had his pocket watch on him for identification of the body, although my great-great-grandma probably recognized him by his clothes.”

I was completely enthralled, momentarily forgetting about the crime scene right in front of me. A coyote stole the man’s head? All sorts of gruesome scenes went through my mind about how Joe’s head could have

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