Death at China Rose (Sunshine State Murders) by Daryl Anderson

Author:Daryl Anderson [Anderson, Daryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2015-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen:

The Lost Tribe of China Rose

I approached Harry’s house from the rear, parking the ATV in the woods. Against my will, the rambling roads of China Rose had led me back here. I filled my empty bottle from the hose and sat on the concrete bench in the back.

The house was a sad sight. Yellow crime tape sagged around the faded bungalow, having endured several bouts of pounding rain and merciless sun. Grinning gnomes still stood sentry, but there was no whimsy in their smiles. Now they were guardians of the grave.

I considered taking another look inside. I knew damn well that I hadn’t squeezed out all the secrets that lurked inside. But I was beat. Even if something was staring me in the eye, I wouldn’t see it. I turned away, and as I did, I caught furtive movement to the right. The hairs on my neck stood at attention—someone was watching from the woods.

I turned slowly and found intelligent eyes staring into mine.

The small furry figure crouched at the edge of the woods, near the ATV. It was so still that for one moment I thought it was one of Harry’s plastic creatures. I squatted and held out my hand. “Hey there,” I said softly.

At this, more figures appeared behind the first creature—one, then another, then one more. I took a small step forward. The small being in the vanguard jumped up and down once and bared his toothy grin. His less brave companions melted into the woods, hooting and yelping.

“I won’t hurt you.”

The old eyes seemed puzzled. For a moment, I thought he’d come into the mottled light and take my hand. But the creature let out a single cry and followed his brethren into the woods.

I now knew what caused those strange blood smears on the cot cushions.

* * *

Murder was good for business. China Rose’s worn wooden bar was full of elbows.

“Moss around?” I asked Papa, who was behind the bar.

“In the kitchen,” he mumbled.

The kitchen was a steam room, but then all of Florida was a steam room in July. Moss was shoving a tray of mugs into the dishwasher.

“Can we talk?” I asked as Moss started the dishwashing cycle.

“Give me a minute.” Moss slipped into the walk-in.

I pulled several paper towels off of a wall dispenser and wiped my face. I couldn’t wait to get home for a cool shower and a beer. One of these wishes was fulfilled when Moss reappeared with two icy bottles.

I followed Moss out the back door, which as usual was cracked open with a milk crate. Additional milk crates littered the shaded alcove, serving as chairs. Moss and I sat. We drank our beers in silence for several minutes. In the shade the late-afternoon air was almost cool.

“By the way, I like your ride.” I gestured at the cherry-red vintage Caddy.

“That’s my baby girl,” he said, a brief smile flickering across his face. Then he grew somber. “Bambi called—she said she’d been trying to call you.”

I’d been in China Rose’s dead zone most of the afternoon.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.