The Season of Killing by Leigh Mayberry (reading books for 4 year olds .txt) 📗

“Norman, you know your grandmother died, right?” Meghan didn’t mean to sound callous. Dealing with children pretending to be adults acting like snotty little kids took more effort than Meghan had patience.

“Yeah, I know.” Norman had the truncated speech of a young man who gave up on education and lived by the seat of his dirty britches.

It helped Barbara had shared Norman’s background. Meghan knew he wasn’t to blame for his upbringing. Sometimes it took a long time to grow up when no one told him to do it. Meghan wasn’t jaded by their interaction.

“Do you know what happened to her?” she asked.

Norman shrugged with a motion of indifference that didn’t answer the question.

“Your aunt tells us you repaired your grandmother’s roof in August.”

“Yeah, so?” he said defensively.

“Relax,” Lester said. “We want to find out what happened to your Gram. Don’t you want to know what happened to her?”

He shrugged again. The porch light started flickering rapidly. Inside the house, more laughter erupted. Meghan ignored the juvenile antics. She knew not to engage in negative behavior. Distracted kids got bored faster when ignored.

“When did you find out about your grandmother?” Meghan asked.

“I don’t know, today, I guess.”

“Who told you?”

“I don’t know. I was at the store. Everyone’s talking about it.”

Meghan attempted to make sense of Norman’s apparent indifference. He didn’t emote. That didn’t mean he was uncaring. Sometimes it was mental health issues. Sometimes lack of empathy happened when people got high. She showed a flashlight directly into Norman’s eyes. It took a beat before he lifted a hand to shade his eyes.

“How old are you, Norman?” Meghan asked.

The porch light flickered again. The music inside changed. The selection was a glass-rattling thrash metal with indistinguishable lyrics.

“I’m twenty-four. Why? Is that a crime?” His defensiveness came on the blistering waves of the heavy music.

Meghan needed something substantial from Norman. “Tell me, what did you do on Friday night?”

“Why?”

The music changed again. Another rap song with a thumping backbeat had obscenity-laced lyrics suggesting the police should do something else besides harass Norman. The combination of the music and the hooting of peers inside the house caused Norman to shift defensively. Meghan ignored the camera phones pressed against the living room windows.

“Norman, tell me about the roofing job you did for Hilma.”

“What about it?”

Questions with questions were the tactic of laziness. While some argued Socrates’ maieutic method, Meghan knew someone like the Greek philosopher never dealt with idleness of modern addled minds.

Lester sensed Meghan’s frustration.

“Norman, go back inside. Tell your friends we’ve got troopers on their way. We’re going to find out what happened to your grandmother. We’d like you to help us.”

He blinked at Lester and turned around. Norman had to use the railing to ascend the snowy stairs.

“Norman, I’m sorry,” Meghan said.

He looked back at her as he opened the door. “What for?” he asked.

“Because your grandmother died,” she said.

“Oh.” Norman closed the door to applause and cheers.

Meghan walked through the deep snow with Lester. It went above her snow boots. Snow fell like crystal leaves from the sky trees. Huge flakes landed on the town ceaselessly.

“Sometimes, it doesn’t matter where you are in the world. Boys are all the same,” she said.

If Meghan expected Lester to counter the argument, he knew better.

“You know, it occurred to me,” she said and stopped walking. “Where the hell is Rowland?” The fire marshal left town before Meghan and the rest.

The look on Lester’s face confirmed her observation. They took up a quicker pace headed back to the warehouse.

“I’ll call Oliver,” he said.

Chapter Thirteen

 Panic about a missing fire marshal fizzled quickly. Rowland Searson never left Kinguyakkii. He neglected to inform the police, despite the adult responsibility. Inwardly, Meghan reaffirmed her idea: boys were all the same. Rowland wasn’t interested in follow up. Perhaps it had to do with the only paid member in a volunteer fire department. That meant he was in charge and didn’t have to answer to anyone except the mayor.

Fortunately, Kinguyakkii Volunteer Fire Department rarely had callouts. A place like Noorvik, with no fire department, everyone was a volunteer.

After the chilly reception Meghan received upon arrival, she wondered if it was her or because, like most people nowadays, no one knew their neighbors anymore. Meghan walked through the entrance to the convenience store, pretending to be a full-sized supermarket. It was a little after five, and Meghan needed a few pieces of supplies.

Duty called; she hadn’t intended to rush out of town again. She needed toothpaste and wanted a better hand soap and paper towels. The customers inside the store avoided her. She tried making eye contact, smiled at everyone. They moved away from Meghan like she spread tuberculosis.

“Can I ask you something?” Meghan said, approaching the front counter. The shoebox-sized store had a customer service representative, a pretty girl, lanky with long silky chestnut hair and brown-gold eyes. She immediately reminded Meghan of Brittany, tall and beautiful. She looked as young as her daughter. She smiled at Meghan.

“Do you know Hilma Fisher?” Meghan asked.

“Oh, yeah,” the clerk said.

“What’s your name? I’m Meghan Sheppard.”

“Oh, I know who you are, Chief Sheppard. I’m Margery Goodenoth.” She extended her hand through the hole in the center of the Plexiglas window covering the front counter.

Meghan saw the open laptop inside the tiny office. Her inquisitive nature made her read the screen. She saw the University of Alaska banner on the internet page.

“It’s awful what happened,” Margery said.

“What do you think happened?” Meghan asked innocently. She didn’t expect a confession or finger-pointing. Locals, she knew, especially with young people with no vehicles, no place to go, no access to social media apps because texting and cell phone conversations didn’t