Murder, She Wrote: Hook, Line, and Murder by Jessica Fletcher

Author:Jessica Fletcher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-09-14T09:15:55+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Harvey Richardson’s Gas-and-Go was on the road leading out to the airport. I had passed it many times but never had occasion to stop in there. The station was self-serve when it came to pumping gas, but it had a full-service mechanic on duty, around the side of the building where the garage bays were open and country music poured out loud enough to muffle most car engines.

I parked my bike near the front door, which another customer held open for me as he left. A young man sat behind the cash register inside a small office that also sold windshield wiper blades, hanging air fresheners, and other automotive accessories. Several soda and candy machines lined one wall for those too busy to stop in town for a snack.

“Hi, Josh,” I said, reading the young man’s name tag. “Is Harvey Richardson in today?”

He shook his head but didn’t look up from the smartphone he was typing into with his thumbs.

“When do you expect him back?”

“Didn’t tell me.”

“Does he usually come in every day?”

“Sometimes.”

He was too young to remember when Brian and Darryl and friends were getting in trouble, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask questions. “I’m trying to find someone who used to work here about a dozen or so years ago. Would you know the names of the people who worked here before you came?”

He shook his head again.

“Do you think your mechanic might know?”

“Dunno. You could ask.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jeff Grusen.”

“Has he worked here for a long time?”

“Not long.”

“More than a year?”

“Probably.”

That didn’t look promising. “Then, may I leave a note for Mr. Richardson for when he does get back?”

A shrug.

I scribbled a note on the pad of paper I always carry, folded it, and held it out to the clerk, whose head was still buried in the phone. I cleared my voice, and finally he looked up. “Will you remember to give it to him?” I asked.

“I guess.”

“I’m asking, Josh, because it’s important that I speak with him. I’m relying on you to be responsible. Mr. Richardson must think you are a responsible person or he would never leave you in charge of his business.”

Josh straightened in his seat and put down his phone. “I guess.”

“I’m sure. Now, here’s the note. I’ve left my phone number. I know that you’ll make sure that Harvey Richardson gets this.”

“Okay, Mrs. . . . ?”

“Fletcher, J. B. Fletcher.”

“Okay, Mrs. Fletcher, I’ll make sure old Harvey gets this.”

I felt myself sigh. Trying to capture the attention of young people on their cellular phones was not an easy task. “Thank you very much, Josh.”

I walked my bicycle around the side of the building to the air pump and put down the kickstand. I glanced over to the garage. A portion of the garage floor had been excavated to accommodate the installation of a lift. There was a car up on the lift, and the mechanic was standing in the pit peering up into its interior parts using a flashlight. I hoped he would be more helpful than the clerk.

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