Murder, Cottonwood Style: An Adventure Calls Mystery Book 2 by Kathy McIntosh

Author:Kathy McIntosh [McIntosh, Kathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dogged Kat Press
Published: 2022-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

The Warnings Begin

I slogged homeward, waterlogged. My hair dripped down my face, my socks squished in my also soaked shoes. The only part of me that had stayed somewhat untouched by the water cannon was my back, and that meant my backpack had stayed dry.

“My phone,” I yelled halfway to Leah’s. I tried to pull it out of the pocket of my formerly nice khaki slacks, but the sopping fabric pulled tight against my thighs. I’d already caused quite a commotion as I walked down Main, and no doubt my shouting convinced passersby that I was well and truly nuts. Most people hurried by, trying not to stare.

By the time I turned onto Leah’s street, I was convinced that Cottonwoodians were harsh and cruel. Not to mention at least one was a murderer. Then a woman about my age, who’d been sitting on her porch, trotted to the sidewalk. She stopped in front of me. “Did you fall into the river? Are you all right? How can I help? If you wait, I’ll grab a few towels.”

“I’m fine. Didn’t fall. Fortunately, the weather’s not cold.” She still looked concerned, so I went on. “I got squirted by a protective homeowner.”

“Protective! That’s way out of line. Maybe arrest-worthy. Want to come in and call the cops? Get dry?”

“You are too sweet. I’m staying at a home down the street. Leah McCall’s?”

“Still, you’re soaked. I could get a towel and you could bring it back, whenever.” She patted my arm. “I’m Dolly Gardiner.”

“Dolly, you’ve restored my faith in the people of Cottonwood. I got quite a soaking, but I’ll be fine. I’ll get home and take a nice long bath. Warm. Thank you for your kindness.” I felt tears spilling over and brushed them away.

“You’re in shock. Have some tea when you get home. Relax and, well, I’m sorry you were treated that way, especially if you’re a visitor to our town.”

I smiled at her through my tears and a few last drips of water. “I promise to follow your orders. Are you a doctor?”

“Nurse practitioner. Seriously, if you get chills or feel worse, you should drop by the Urgent Care Center. Or knock on my door. Poor baby.”

She patted me on the back and I walked on home, feeling better for the kind human contact. Although I wouldn’t be knocking on doors for a while, or if I did, I’d wear a raincoat.

I staggered up the front steps and opened the glass door to get to the locked wood door. An 8 x 10 piece of cardboard slid to the porch. I bent over to pick it up before I dripped on it. Glued to it were words cut from a magazine or a newspaper, some made up from cut out letters: SNOOPING’S NOT HEALTHY. STOP PRYING.

Perfect. And for a few moments there, I’d believed my day couldn’t get worse.

Then it struck me—someone thinks I’m getting closer to finding the killer. If only he or she knew how wrong that was.

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