I Shall Not Want by Julia Spencer-Fleming

Author:Julia Spencer-Fleming [Spencer-Fleming, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Police Procedural, New York (State), Women clergy, Episcopalians, Mystery & Detective, Van Alstyne; Russ (Fictitious character), Adirondack Mountains (N.Y.), Crime, Fiction, Serial murderers, Mystery fiction, Fergusson; Clare (Fictitious character), General, Police chiefs
ISBN: 9780312933999
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2009-04-27T23:00:00+00:00

VII

POLICE DENY SERIAL KILLER, the headline read. Hadley picked the paper up from the kitchen table, where Hudson had dropped it—his morning chore was bringing the Post-Star in for Granddad—before dashing back upstairs to get his backpack.

Millers Kill chief of police Russell Van Alstyne refused to comment on the possibility that a serial killer is responsible for three murder victims found in Cossayuharie over the past week, despite strong similarities in each slaying.

Hadley shook her head. The chief would have a heart attack when he saw this.

Speaking of which… she took Granddad’s medicines from the cupboard, untwisted the complicated seals, and shook his daily dose into a cup next to the coffeemaker. He hadn’t been taking them regularly, despite her nagging, so she was trying to make them unavoidable.

“Hudson! Geneva! Hurry up or you’ll miss breakfast!” She grabbed three boxes of cereal from the shelf and hefted the gallon jug of milk out of the fridge. Half gone. She jotted MILK on the back of the National Grid envelope she was using for her grocery list and stuffed it into her tote bag.

A clatter on the stairs, and Genny trotted into the kitchen, holding a pair of dress boots Hadley had picked up on sale at Wal-Mart a week after they arrived in the North Country. “Mom, will you help me zip up my boots?”

Hadley pulled out a kitchen chair and deposited her daughter in it. “Lovey, it’s June. We don’t wear boots in June.”

“But these are Hello Kitty boots. And I have a Hello Kitty shirt on.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “What about the sandals Grampy got you?”

Geneva gave her a look like Joan Rivers dissecting a badly dressed actress on Oscar night. “Those are Strawberry Shortcake sandals. Strawberry Shortcake is for preschool. I’m in first grade.” She wriggled the boots on and stuck her legs out.

Hadley weighed the teacher’s reaction to the unseasonable footwear versus the time lost convincing Geneva to change her mind, and decided she could live with Mrs. Flaherty thinking she was a neglectful mother. She zipped the boots. “You get your cereal and I’ll help you with the milk,” she said. She strode through the family room to the foot of the stairs and yelled, “Hudson!”

He emerged from his room, an overfull backpack swinging from one shoulder, clutching a fistful of papers. “I need signatures,” he said, handing them to her. “And two checks.” Behind him, she could hear Granddad thumping down the hall.

Hadley examined the papers as she followed her son into the kitchen. Permission slip for a field trip to Saratoga Performing Arts Center. Cost, ten bucks. Permission slip for a field trip to the Mohawk Canal museum. Cost, five bucks. So much for getting her hair cut this week. A notice of upcoming field days—please make sure your child is adequately sun-screened. She dropped the forms on the table and poured milk into Genny’s bowl, holding it away from herself to avoid splashing her uniform. “I don’t know why they bother to have school into June,” she said to Hudson.

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