The Aroostine Higgins Series Novels 1-3 by Melissa F. Miller

Author:Melissa F. Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brown Street Books

Aroostine cradled the mound of fat, gem-like currants and the two large fistfuls of salsify leaves in the bottom of her shirt and hiked back to the spot where she’d left Joe. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps.

“Lunch is served.” She plopped down next to him and displayed the fruit and weeds, like a shopgirl showing her wares.

“Um. What is it?”

She plucked a currant from the pile and held it between her thumb and forefinger, turning it so the sun filled its translucent shape with light.

“This baby is a golden currant, like the jam. Even though some are yellow and the rest are red and black, they’re all ripe golden currants. The plants are meadow salsify. I just brought the leaves because the stalks are kind of tough and bitter. This is enough to make a decent salad.”

He still looked uncertain, so she popped the globe of fruit in her mouth and bit into an explosion of sweet, honey-like fruit. It was much less tart than she’d expected, which was good—Joe liked sugary fruits.

“Mmm, try it.”

She offered him a berry. He eyed it suspiciously but took it. As he chewed it, his face relaxed.

“Not bad,” he admitted.

“Good. You might want to wrap the leaves around some berries and eat them together, because—I’m not gonna lie—the leaves aren’t quite as tasty. But they’re filling, so eat them, okay? Fill your belly and then we’ll get another drink of water and push on.” She squinted at the sky. “We have maybe five more hours before we have to stop and make camp for the night.”

“Then what? What’s our ultimate goal?”

He reached for a leaf and the fattest remaining berry. She dropped a currant into a leaf of her own and ate it as she considered his question.

“I’m hoping Boylestown will have a semi-professional police presence. We’ll report the car bombing and ask the police to call Sid so we can get an update on what’s going on at the reservation. Then we’ll call the hotel, get the driver to come fetch us and enjoy some indoor plumbing and soft beds while we figure out what to do. How’s that sound for a plan?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “It sounds great, except for one little snag.”

She furrowed her brow. What had she missed?

“I give up. What’s the snag?”

He shoveled another berry/leaf bite into his mouth and shook his head. “I love that you’re still so trusting, but really? Think about it. If Lee Buckmount did kill Isaac Palmer to cover up the embezzlement and tried to kill us, what do you think he’s doing now?”

“Swimming in a bathtub of gold ducats like Duck McScrooge?”

“Uh, no. If he’s smart, he’s concocted a story that paints us as mixed up with Isaac and drug dealers. If I were him, it would go something like this: we met with Isaac to sell him drugs, and it went bad. We killed him and you called it in, pretending to be some prosecutor from back East.

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