Murder Comes by Mail Read Online Free Page B

Michael.
    “Thanks to you, he will have a chance to work through his problems now. We should pray for him.”
    After she went inside, Michael waited until the light came on in the window of his aunt’s sitting room and then headed home. As he drove through the woods to his log house on the lake, he hardly gave a thought to Julie Lynne chasing him down in Hidden Springs. He kept seeing the jumper and hearing his words. “You’ll wish you’d pushed me.”
    It hadn’t exactly sounded like a threat. More like a promise.

5
    The next day the weekly issue of the Hidden Springs Gazette hit the stands at the local Save Way grocery and the Hidden Springs Grill. Folks could also grab a copy off the front counter in the Gazette office, which operated on the honor system. Three quarters in the bowl on the counter bought a paper off the top of the stack.
    On the day the paper came out, Hank Leland always stayed out of sight behind the partition that divided the offices from the pressroom until the first flush of buyers passed through. He claimed that was so people would read the news for themselves and not simply stand there wanting him to give a narrative report of what he’d written. Others around town claimed it was more likely Hank wanted a clear path out the back way in case somebody took issue with one of his stories and showed up ready to punch him in the nose.
    Either way, Annie Watson kept guard at the front desk. Annie had worked on the paper through three different editors and knew exactly how many words would fit in a column inch and the difference between a nickel’s clink and that of a quarter in the payment bowl on the counter.
    Michael didn’t bother picking up a copy on the way to work. Noon would be plenty early enough to see what kind of story Hank had come up with on the jumper, but when he went in the sheriff’s office, Betty Jean Atkins was already well into the middle pages of the paper. Behind her, the coffeemaker made its final gurgles to extract every drop of water out of its innards, and the computers hummed with their cursors flashing at the ready.
    Betty Jean peered over the paper at him. “The hero in the flesh.”
    Michael groaned and poured a cup of coffee. “How bad is it?”
    “Not bad at all. Great pictures.” Betty Jean turned back to the front page. “Hank will have to print another run for all the girls to have copies to get you to autograph.”
    “Yeah, right.” Michael sat down at his desk and thumbed through his phone messages. As usual, not much happening. A bicycle missing at the trailer park. Maybe stolen. Maybe borrowed. A rock through a window out at the high school. Some kid who must not have been straightened out by Aunt Lindy yet.
    “Where’s Lester?” Michael looked up.
    Lester Stucker was the other deputy in the office. Michael didn’t need to ask where Sheriff Potter was. He’d be at the grill loading up on caffeine and cholesterol for the day.
    “School starts in a few weeks. He’s probably out checking his whistle and making sure the crosswalks are painted. Or maybe he’s patrolling the bridge, hoping for another nut to come along so he can be a hero too.” Betty Jean stood up to fill her coffee mug. “Heaven help the nut if one is out there. Lester would push him the wrong way for sure.”
    “No way for you to talk about a fellow deputy.” Michael kept flipping through his messages. Buck Garrett, the state detective for the area, had called, but it didn’t sound urgent. A Dr. Philip Colson wanted him to call. Michael noted the Eagleton number and wondered why a doctor was calling him.
    Betty Jean took a sip of coffee and then shook the paper at him. “Well, don’t you want to know what it says about you? Or have you already read it?”
    “Nope.”
    “Nope, you haven’t already read it, or nope, you don’t want to know what it says?”
    “Both.” Michael kept his eyes on the notes in front of him.
    Neville Gravitt, the county clerk, stuck his long,