Silver Lake Cozy Mystery Bundle by Hugo James King

Author:Hugo James King [King, Hugo James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-29T22:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Friday, February 1st

I left the kitchen in a state of mess before bed. After filling one box full of paperwork, I’d decided to eat, and then it through my weary eyes it was undecidedly time for bed.

Seeing it again for the first time in the morning was somewhat like waking with a slight migraine hangover and trying to remember what had happened from the night before.

“Only one box,” I grumbled, tapping it with my slippered foot. There was the second box at the side of it, slowly filling with different pictures I’d picked out from the papers.

I knew the images were hiding in there, but I had plenty pictures of Harry around the house, shown proudly in gilded photo frames.

Charlie growled lowly, kicking a paw at his bowl.

A yawn rolled out of my mouth, throwing me into a large stretch. “Right, right,” I said, pulling my nightgown tight at my waist. The heating was finally on the timer, but it didn’t help that the house was sometimes a draughty hell. “Let me put the kettle on and I’ll deal with you.”

It was Friday, and I was taking more liberties of time off. Diane didn’t mind, after the circulation their last national paper got, I knew given the time and proper thought, I could make this one just as big.

After feeding Charlie, I collected the morning paper and milk from the stoop outside the front door. It had rained overnight, the paving outside was dark and wet, but it wasn’t raining now, perhaps it had recently stopped.

“Today we’re going to visit your new friend,” I said to Charlie as I walked back into the kitchen. He didn’t seem to notice me or pick his head up from his dish. I was referring to the cat he’d met inside Mortimer’s house.

I made my coffee and sat inside the conservatory, ready to flick through the morning paper. I scanned through a couple pages, looking at the headlines, glancing through the pictures. My brain couldn’t get into anything, busy with thoughts about the mess and progress I’d made last night.

It took a little time before I huffed and folded the paper, slapping it down on the table. “Fine,” I grumbled, grabbing my cup and heading back into the kitchen. “Where to start?”

There was a lot of places for me to get stuck in and rummage through. Like anyone, I started at what was on the surface, but in the back of my mind, it continued to niggle about the photo I’d found, showing my husband and Doreen. Whatever they’d been signing, there had to be something in here to go alongside it.

I pawed, reading only headlines. I was on a mission, looking for something in particular.

Doreen Maidstone—block letters at the top of the page.

“Gotcha!” I plucked it, attached to several more by a staple.

The front page was mostly business jargon; receipt of sale, seller, deed of sale.

My fingers flicked through it until I came upon a photocopy in black and white. “Deed of sale,” I grumbled.

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