Signs of Foul Play by Penny Warner

Author:Penny Warner [Warner, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-79120-7
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-03-30T00:00:00+00:00

As hot water poured over my battered body, I painfully discovered how cut up I was. Every gash and scrape stung anew, reminding me of my recent near-burial experience.

I watched dirt turn to mud and sludge as I stood in the shower, trying to wash the frightening experience away. Two sow bugs and half an earthworm plummeted to their watery graves as I soaped, shampooed, and gently scrubbed. After a while the water ran clear, the stinging subsided, and the pulsating shower temporarily soothed my aching muscles. I didn’t want to get out.

Forcing myself to turn off the now-cooling water, I toweled my body carefully, checking and counting the bruises. After covering every inch with pine-scented lotion, I slipped into some baggy jeans and a Dr. Seuss T-shirt. Snatching a glass of orange juice from the fridge, I limped over to the TTY to check the messages and call the sheriff.

I pushed the button for message transcription and a narrow length of paper began to spew from the top of the machine. I let it print, then tore off the paper and I held it up to read in the dim light.

“This is the Enquirer calling Connor Westphal. We need a pulp writer to cover Flat Skunk’s most unusual murders, bizarre mysteries, sex scandals, things like that. Shall we meet for lunch to discuss the details?”

I reread the message before setting it on the counter. Placing the TTY receiver into the coupler, I held off calling Sheriff Mercer and dialed another number.

“Enquirer here. Dan Smith typing. GA.”

“Thanks for the job offer but I’ve already got my hands full trying to put together the Eureka!’s obituary page. Besides, I don’t do sex scandals. Too popular. GA.”

“How was the funeral? GA.”

I decided not to go into detail over the phone. “Earth-shaking. How about you? Any dirt, so to speak? GA.”

“Enough to fill a few potholes. So how about lunch? GA.”

I ran a hand over my bruised leg, gently massaging the pain away. “I have several dates already, but I guess I could break them. As long as it’s not pizza. GA.”

“Pick me up at noon. SK.”

I hung up, thought about what I was going to say to Sheriff Mercer, and dialed his number. Dispatcher Rebecca Matthews took the call; the sheriff wasn’t in. I asked her to have him call me at the office, then hung up and headed for work.

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