The Unkindness of Ravens by M. E. Hilliard

The Unkindness of Ravens by M. E. Hilliard

Author:M. E. Hilliard [Hilliard, M. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books


Chapter Twelve

I’d saved the photocopied article with Joanna’s notes for when I’d have an uninterrupted stretch to work. I’d looked them over again that morning, and thought some of the odd notations were familiar. The answer was at the edge of my consciousness. Now that I’d had a day of fresh air and exercise, it was time to try again.

I popped some slice-and-bake cookies in the oven and assembled my laptop, notepad, and tote bag on the coffee table. As I pulled out the cookies, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Pete Jr. of Pete’s Pizza shaking water off his lanky frame.

“Hi, Ms. Hogan. Medium, extra pepperoni, still hot.”

“Come in while I get my wallet.” Pete was a nice kid who was working his way through community college. He spent most of his weekends at the family pizza shop, either behind the counter or delivering. Along with the Java Joint and the Market on Main, Pete’s Pizza completed the Holy Trinity of information clearinghouses in Raven Hill, and young Pete liked to chat. He was a natural in the hospitality business. I was hoping he’d have some useful tidbits for me.

Pete had unpacked the pizza and was sniffing the air appreciatively when I came back.

“I hear you had some excitement up at the manor last night,” he said as I settled up.

“How’d you know?” I asked, counting out a generous tip.

“My grandpop may be retired, but he’s still got a police scanner and a cell phone He can’t see too well, but there’s nothing wrong with his hearing. He says staying in the loop keeps him sharp.”

“Understandable.” And useful. Having a police scanner made you privy to all kinds of interesting information, though not as much as it did before cell phones. A well-connected retired cop was good, too. I wondered if Pete’s vision-impaired grandfather would have any interest in audiobooks. I’d follow up on that, but first the business at hand.

“So, you heard someone hit his head around closing?” I handed Pete a cookie.

“Mr. Goodhue,” Pete said around a mouthful of chocolate chip, “but I heard he got bashed in the head and you found him. Did you see it happen?”

He was fishing, but so was I. I handed him another cookie.

“Only from outside, and I didn’t see anyone else. But there were a lot of strangers in the manor all day. Apparently, Mr. Goodhue lost track of time. It’s hard to check the whole building on weekends, and I guess if we missed him we could have missed someone else.”

Pete shrugged. I’d have to give him something else.

“There was something odd, though.”

Pete looked eager. He’d love to have some new info to bring home to his grandfather.

“When I found him, he sort of looked like he’d been mugged. Keys and stuff all around him. But he could’ve just dropped what he was holding. Maybe I lived in the city too long.”

Pete’s eyebrows shot up. This was news, at least to him.

“Anyway, I’m sure Mr. Goodhue can explain what happened.



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