Doubled Up (Imogene Museum Mystery #2) by Jones Jerusha

Author:Jones, Jerusha [Jones, Jerusha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jerusha Jones
Published: 2012-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

I nosed the pickup into the short drive in front of my fifth-wheel trailer and slumped in the seat. Rain rivulets meandered down the windshield — merging, separating into new channels, trickling away the minutes. I submerged, lumpish, into a void, an absence of thought.

Ham’s face — pale, almost translucent skin, dark petrified eyes and mouth stretched wide — wavered inside my eyelids and jolted me out of my stupor. The cab had chilled. My skin was clammy.

I bolted from the truck and hurried into the trailer, clicking the door firmly closed behind me. My breath came in bursts. I needed a solid, warm dog to hold.

But Tuppence hadn’t greeted me. She was probably still off on her morning rounds, checking to see if anything had changed in the night.

Changed in the night. I hung my head. My whole body felt weak, boneless. I dropped to the couch. What I really needed was Pete. He’d just hold me and not talk. I wanted to time my heartbeats with his and be still. But the tug was probably already underway. And I couldn’t even call him because my phone was evidence.

I burrowed into the cushions and pulled a wad of blankets over my head.

A soft whining outside woke me. And rustling.

I got up and opened the door. A blast of eye-watering, searing skunk odor nearly bowled me over.

“Ughhhh.” I pulled my shirt collar up over my nose and mouth.

Tuppence wriggled on the welcome mat and whined pitifully. She rubbed her nose with first one paw and then the other.

I grabbed my keys and hurried down the steps. Tuppence tried to rub on my legs.

“No, no. Not right now. I’ll be back as soon as I can. That’s a good girl. Just hold on.”

I sped to Junction General and flew through the store collecting paper towels, hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, dish soap and sponges.

“Tuppence get into a skunk?” Gloria asked when I dumped everything on the counter.

“You can tell from my purchases?”

“Yes. But I can smell it too.”

“Sorry. She barely touched me.”

Gloria loaded the supplies into a paper bag. “Winter skunk is worse than summer skunk.”

I handed her a couple bills. “Why is that?”

“It’s not scientific, just my opinion. Skunks don’t truly hibernate, but they do sleep a lot in the winter. They have to come out at least once to empty their scent sacs. I think the oil — you know, what’s been stored for a month or two — has to be even stronger.”

“Eeew.”

“Hey.” Gloria placed a hand on mine. “I heard there was a murder at the museum and that it’s Ham.”

I nodded and held my breath.

“He had paid to stay through today, but when his car wasn’t here this morning, I figured he left early. So I went upstairs to clean—” A furrow deepened in Gloria’s forehead. “His things are still here — toothbrush and shaving kit, clothes. His laptop’s on the dining table. I ducked out quickly because I thought maybe he was coming back in a few minutes, but now—”

I exhaled.

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