Getaway Mountain: PennWoods Mystery Book 1 by Michele Huey

Author:Michele Huey [Huey, Michele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-01-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The odor of hot metal filled my nostrils. Where was I? My head throbbed. My cheek, wet with drool, lay in a pile of paper. I blinked. The face of Benjamin Franklin stared up at me. It sluggishly came back to me: cleaning out the wardrobe, finding Paul’s briefcase.

I sniffed. What stunk? And what was that awful, high-pitched racket? The kettle! I needed to get downstairs before the cabin burned down. I tried to get to my feet, but I was too woozy. God. Please. I don’t have fire insurance. I took a deep breath, pushed myself to a kneeling position, and then stood. The room whirled around me. I maneuvered down the circular stairway, clinging to the railing, and stumbled to the kitchen.

Pulling the neckline of my sweatshirt over my nose, I snatched a potholder from the countertop, wrapped it around the handle of the kettle, and lifted. It wouldn’t budge. It was melted to the burner. I turned off the flame. Another kettle ruined.

When the trembling stopped, I replaced the herbal tea bag with Earl Grey, filled the glass mug with water, and slid it in the microwave, setting the time for three minutes. I added a couple more logs to the fire, remembering what I had upstairs and in the dryer. I rushed to both doors to make sure they were locked. The next time I could afford to visit the doctor, I needed to have my blood pressure checked.

When the microwave dinged, I carried my mug to the living room and curled up on the sofa, pulling the fleece blanket over me. Rascal nosed her way onto my lap.

“What should I do with the money, girl? Hide it, spend it, or give it to Don?”

Her eyes closed. Oh, to be a cat and not have any worries except what to eat and where to sleep. I was sure Devon Grove was killed because of the money. I didn’t want to be next. Orange flames licked the logs and stretched up the chimney.

Stephanie Keith was involved, I was sure of it. Could she have been the prowler Bertha saw? The one who had tampered with the grill cover? I scratched Rascal’s head and took another sip of tea, my mind wrapping around the way Stephanie gazed at Paul in that picture. Why had she looked so familiar? Something niggled in my brain. Something about that picture wasn’t right.

I pulled Rascal onto my chest, rubbing my cheek in her soft fur.

“They suspect me of being Paul’s accomplice, Rascal. Isn’t that ridiculous? I couldn’t deceive someone if my life depended on it. I’m sure ‘big fat lie’ was written all over my face this afternoon. I’ll probably get arrested for obstruction of justice, tampering with an investigation, and who knows what else?”

Rascal adjusted her position on my chest, her sharp claws piercing through my shirt. I laid her back on the blanket in my lap.

“You never liked Paul, did you, girl? You saw things, heard things I didn’t.

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