Guild Of Immortal Women by David Alan Morrison & H.L. Melvin

Author:David Alan Morrison & H.L. Melvin [Morrison, David Alan & Melvin, H.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book Publishers Network
Published: 2014-10-11T22:00:00+00:00

38

“Wow, I just paged you an hour ago. You make better time than pizza delivery.”

Matt smiled and stifled a yawn. The past few days of Five hour naps in the car were catching up with him. He straightened his belt and smoothed down his shirt, hoping the wrinkles weren’t too distracting.

“You look like shit, Detective,” Helen said, pushing her glasses back on her nose.

“Thanks.”

“That smell…is that you?”

“I haven’t showered today.”

“Today?” Her nose wrinkled. “It smells like several days. What the hell is going on?”

“Stakeout.” Mathers didn’t lie. He had been on a stakeout. The stakeout was just interrupted by several periods of time when he went to work, then home to eat, catnap, and check his mail. And, since his stakeout involved the Emerson women, it wasn’t supported by the department. He thought of it as a hobby-esque kind of stakeout.

Luckily, Janet and Sal took pity on him. Right after dinner, when he fell asleep on the couch, they cleaned out the guest room. When he awoke, Sal stood holding out a key.

“Take it. Stay here as long as you want. No sense driving back to Montpelier every couple of days.”

He felt as if he was imposing on them, but accepted the key anyway. So for this week, he didn’t have to worry about the drive back home and he would get more than a five-hour catnap.

Helen busied herself at the computer while he pulled up a chair and flopped down. He looked at his shoes and realized with dismay that the hole in his heel was now the size of a quarter.

“In English, or the full report?” Helen waved a thick folder in front of him.

“English. My mind is a bit sluggish.”

Helen opened the file and began referencing notes. “Remember those DNA tests that you wanted re-done?” Mathers nodded. “Yes, the ones that were perfectly accurate but you wanted re-analyzed because your mind wasn’t ready to accept the findings?” Mathers sighed and nodded at her. “They came back. Same results.”

“I figured they would.”

“Then why waste our time, Detective?”

“I wanted to be sure.”

“It’s good to want things,” was the retort. “Keeps the brain spinning.”

“And?”

“And?”

“And they prove...?”

“Detective, perhaps the dirt from this stakeout…why do you call it a stakeout? You’re not staking anything.”

Mathers waved his fingers. “Move along.”

“Right. This proves, Detective, that the skeletal remains date back to 1941 and 2008, respectively, but the clothing, jewelry and other artifacts can be traced back to—roughly—the 1200’s.”

“The thirteenth century.”

“Roughly.”

He whistled and rubbed his eyes. “How is this possible?”

Helen shrugged. She wheeled her office chair over to the sink, opened the cabinet beneath it and hauled out a huge box of Oreo cookies. She offered them to Mathers and he took two. “My theory,” she said as she twisted them apart, “is that someone knocked over a museum, stole some old clothes from a diorama, put the clothing onto a body they dug up from a grave, and left them for the ladies of the Bastille.”

He rolled his eyes. “Seriously.”

“I’m fresh out of theories.” She chewed the white sugary center from the cookie and grabbed for another.

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