Sick of Shadows by Sharyn McCrumb

Sick of Shadows by Sharyn McCrumb

Author:Sharyn McCrumb
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307761750
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-11-09T23:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER ELEVEN

ELIZABETH SLEPT BADLY that night. Even though she locked her door and got up twice to make sure the bedroom window was fastened, she half waked at every creak the house made. A fitful early-morning dream about looking for an Indian village in the stacks of the university library abruptly changed into a funeral scene in which Aunt Amanda was nailing Eileen into a pine box. In her dream, Elizabeth suddenly became the one in the box, and she could feel the blows of the hammer vibrating against her upturned face. When she finally struggled to consciousness, she found that the pounding was coming from the bedroom door.

“Honey, you got a phone call!” Mildred was saying. “He says he’s your brother.”

Elizabeth shook her head and yawned. The clock on the nightstand said 7:15. In haste she grabbed the terry-cloth robe at the foot of her bed. She was still struggling to knot the cord around her waist when she reached the bottom of the stairs. The receiver was lying on the hall table, and Mildred was nowhere in sight.

“Hello … Bill?” said Elizabeth carefully. “Why are you calling at this hour? What do you mean you just got in? Did Milo tell you why I called? Oh, Bill, it’s awful!”

“One thing I can’t figure out, Wes,” said Clay Taylor, reading the lab report. “If somebody threw her in that boat on the top of a snake, is that murder or just assault? I mean, the snake did the killing, if I’m reading this report right. Does that mean the person who hit her on the head isn’t responsible, or do we just consider the snake an exotic murder weapon?”

Wesley Rountree sighed in exasperation. “I’ll tell you what I consider it, Clay. I consider it the prosecutor’s problem. All we got to worry about is finding him somebody to prosecute. Now let me alone a minute. I got to make up a list of things for Hill-Bear to do today.” Rountree reared back in his swivel chair and considered his list.

Taylor put down the lab report and went over to check the electric percolator atop the filing cabinet. Its cord was loose, so that if he didn’t keep jiggling it, the water never would get hot. “Don’t forget the capias we got on Johnse Still well.”

“Oh yeah. Another bad check. I’ll put it on here. Anything else?”

“The Bryces went to the beach this week, and they wanted us to pay particular attention to the house while they’re gone.”

Rountree grunted. “Hope they remembered to stop the paper this time.”

“The water’s hot, Wes. Want some coffee?”

Rountree shook his head. “No. I’m meeting with Simmons this morning, and he doesn’t use instant. I’ll wait.”

Taylor considered this as he poured his own cup of coffee and ladled sugar into it. “Chandler case, huh?”

“Yep. Consult the family lawyer.”

Clay settled back at his own paperless desk. Months of neatness-by-example had failed to effect any change at all in Rountree’s habits. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “this case could be tricky.



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