Threshold (Whyborne & Griffin) by Hawk Jordan L

Author:Hawk, Jordan L. [Hawk, Jordan L.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-06-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“Griffin,” I began, then trailed off. That someone had ransacked the house looking for the photos seemed evident. As for the former occupants…

Griffin’s mouth thinned into a taut line, and his gaze took on a steely quality as he surveyed the wreckage. He went to the bed, inspecting the rents in the mattress, before dropping to his knees to peer carefully at the floor.

I watched him work, fascinated. I’d never seen this part of his investigations before. My involvement had inevitably come during the monsters-and-screaming portions, and it was a pleasant change to see his talents at work in this fashion.

Finished with the bedroom, he moved to the largest room, examining the drawers, which had been yanked free from the desk. “Look at these scratches,” he said, pointing at the face of one of the drawers. Deep gouges marred the wood to either side of the pull.

“Was it locked, perhaps?” I asked, although the marks seemed in an odd location for someone trying to force the drawer open.

“This type of desk doesn’t lock,” he replied, putting the drawer aside and examining another, which bore the same sort of scratches.

“Er, should we…summon someone?” I suggested weakly.

“The only law in Threshold is the Pinkertons, and they work for the very company which didn’t want the photographs published,” Griffin replied. “We will alert Elliot, of course, but not until after we have an opportunity to look around. If you would, please go through the papers and make certain there’s nothing of use to us. If anything seems at all relevant, take it now and we’ll read through it later.”

I went to the scattered papers and picked them up, hoping to find some sort of order. “My dearest pudding pie,” I read aloud.

“Yes, my little turnip?”

“Hilarious,” I muttered. “If you ever call me anything of the sort again, we shall have words. There is a great deal of correspondence here, but it mainly seems to have been saved from their courtship.” I scanned a few paragraphs at random as I sorted through the papers, and the tips of my ears grew hot. “It, er, mostly describes the liberties she hoped to take with his person. Dear lord, the man must have been an acrobat if she hoped to accomplish that!”

Griffin cleared his throat. “Please stop reading the licentious affairs of others and return to the matter at hand.”

“Oh, er, yes.” I blushed again and hurriedly put the letters aside. Unfortunately, the other papers consisted merely of mundane items such as receipts of sale and recipe cards. Nothing connected with our investigation, and no photographs of any kind.

Griffin finished his inspection and beckoned me outside. Dropping to his knees again, he peered at the muddy marks on the porch. “Odd,” he murmured.

“What?”

He sat back and point to the prints our boots had left. “Do you see the general roundness of a footprint? There is an oval shape, even when scuffed or smeared. These are more like crescents.”

“What does it mean?”

“No idea.” He rose to his feet in a single, graceful move.

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