The Hobby Farm Murders by Cohen Kathy

Author:Cohen, Kathy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-01-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

My god what a difference a night of warm, delicious sleep made, Shirley concluded as her eyes fluttered open. Frances was still sleeping at her side and hadn’t burrowed under the covers. She stretched languidly and looked across the room for a glimpse at the small horse in her stall. Pearl wasn’t visible. Curious, she got off her cot, padded across the room, and peered over the baby gate. There was her little horse, stretched out in the straw, head down, good eye closed. The blisters on her leg were no longer visible.

It was all thanks to that second space heater and Norma’s efforts. How could or would she repay the woman?

Out came the hot plate and pretty soon she had a warm cup of coffee. What she needed to do now was get Bobby out here with some insulation to buttress the walls. Cocoon her in here. Even if only in the three rooms for now. Maybe she could get the place even warmer than the 60 degrees Norma had projected would be the high-end temp. It felt over that even now.

No wonder, she realized when she opened the door. A warm breeze hit her as she walked outside with Frances. She set the dog down in the grass and savored the weather as she looked around. Things had improved quite a bit, thanks to her efforts mowing, raking, and hauling leaves and branches to the burn pile. Of course none of it had been burned yet—that was another job Bobby would have to tackle—but she’d anchored them under a black tarp she’d gotten from the hardware store and things looked neater. Like someone cared.

Her mind no longer burdened by worries of no heat or the appearance of her property for a change, her thoughts shifted immediately to what was happening with her neighbor’s murder. Had they learned anything that was leading them to an arrest?

As if someone was reading her mind, her cell phone rang. It was Detective McGowan. “Told you I’d keep in touch. Wanted to update you on the investigation.” He proceeded to tell her that his detectives at the moment were focussing on the subdivision behind her, looking for acquaintances her murdered neighbor may have had. “He ever mention anyone down there to you?”

Shirley and George’s interaction had consisted of one conversation they’d had when he met her at her mailbox and followed her home. She’d darted inside and lost him. But she didn’t want to tell the Detective that because she thought it made her sound hard-hearted which she didn’t think she was, so she skipped that and made her answer vague. “No, I don’t recall him mentioning friends down there.”

Had she ever been to his house?

No, never. Why was he asking that?

He didn’t say why. After a few more exchanges the call ended with a promise from her that she’d call him back if she remembered anything pertinent. Now, standing in her backyard, she was drawn to the spot where she’d spied George Morrow’s body.

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