Pirate Gold and Murder by Patti Larsen

Author:Patti Larsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: animal cozy mystery, cozy murder mystery series, pirate treasure murder mystery
Publisher: Patti Larsen

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Chapter Twenty Three

“Robert.” Jill was shaking, leaning against the desk to catch her breath. “I actually trusted him to search the room.”

“Which should be an indication maybe he’s hiding something for someone in particular.” I waited for her to get it together and put things into perspective. Patterson perspective.

Jill did so rather quickly, standing to pace the office, her heavy black boots scuffing over the green carpet. “At least we have proof Olivia has reasonable doubt.” She paused, met my eyes. “I feel like I’m losing it, Fee.” She rubbed at her face with one hand. “The old me would have been out there,” she jabbed at the windows, “checking the outside of the building for exits. Not in here, relying on two people,” she said that like they weren’t exactly sentient beings in her estimation, “who have never been trustworthy to have my back.”

“I’m sorry, Jill,” I said. “I wish things had worked out differently.”

“I need to find a way to eliminate both of them.” She halted abruptly, eyes huge, mouth open in an “O” of denial. “I didn’t mean—”

“Considering my history,” I said with a chuckle, “it’s a suitable word even if its meaning might not be clear to anyone else.” I squeezed her shoulder. “I get it, Jill. And you’re right. But it might have to wait until we get this sorted out.”

I left her then, to call in a forensic team and check for prints (yes, I’d used a tissue to open the outside door, I wasn’t born yesterday) and headed for home. Except, I found myself walking the streets of Reading, headache returned, unable to make my brain slow down enough to consider trying to share what I was thinking with anyone else, not even Crew.

Darkness fell and the streetlights came into brilliant glow, lighting the perfectly maintained downtown of the cutest town in America. I glanced in the shop windows, ignoring the buzzing of my phone, just wanting to be alone for a while. I knew Liz and Jill would fill Crew and my dad in on what had happened, so they didn’t need me. When my phone’s continual insistence made me look at last, I fired off a quick message to my worried husband.

I’m fine. Give me a bit.

He sent back, I love you, and left me alone. Because he was that kind of awesome.

The tiny park across from town square seemed a good place to finally sit and take a minute. I stared across the way at the towering statue of Captain Reading still maintaining his watch over our little home. The desecration of the front of his trousers might have come to a regular end, but he still sported a bright yellow depiction of what should have resided under those pants some mornings, as if the artist didn’t want us to forget for one second what s/he/they thought of our illustrious founder.

I would have joined in with gusto if they’d included a rendition of Joseph Patterson.

One of the lights in the

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