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

happen in Noorvik, had nothing else to do but to gather. So, Meghan kept her options open because, at this point, anything was possible.

The Tonraq Store was a brisk walk from public works. It had two cash registers, a smattering of customers. The single cashier sat on the register belt painting her fingernails. Meghan knew she overheard the conversation a few feet away.

The store had a general layout with a full view from the front and the registers. The dairy section occupied two cooler doors in the back. The freezer section had five glass doors on the left of the store. The merchandise had five rows with skinny aisles. The grocery carts were half the size of carts in city stores. Meghan opted for a plastic handbasket, the only one available at the entrance. The deli wasn’t anything more than one might find at a roadside gas station offering gourmet food. That meant the contained oven worked, pizza and other processed fast foods baked until humidity sapped perfection. Anything that came out of the small oven lost flavor and its editable moisture.

“I heard Hilma died in her house. She burned up,” Margery said. She spoke in a hushed tone to keep from projecting.

Meghan nodded. It was banal and lackluster of a description. Since Margery worked while other young people her age congregated in a house across town, Meghan wondered if she well into the same routine off duty.

“Do you know Norman Fisher? Hilma’s grandson?”

“Yeah.” Ariel’s eyes glistened. She leaned toward the hole in the Plexiglas. Her long silky hair spilled over her shoulders. “Do you think he killed her?”

“Ariel, I think we shouldn’t talk about stuff like that,” Meghan said. “I’m trying to figure out some things, that’s all.”

Margery stood up again. She pushed the mane behind her neck. “Hilma came in on Friday at her regular time.”

“Regular time?”

“Oh, sure. Hilma was about as accurate as that dumb clock on the wall.” She gestured to the stuffed and mounted salmon on the office wall. Someone slapped clock fixtures on it. It’s one glass eye marked 11 on the clock dial. Margery was right; it was stupid.

“Hilma came into the store every day at 3:00 pm. She used the ATM. Then she did some shopping.”

Meghan glanced at the ATM. An advertisement for the Alaska based credit union dictated ownership. The lone machine stood sentinel between the entrance and the front office. Meghan saw the camera over the office near the dusty rafters that viewed the entire store from a central location.

“She used it on Friday?” Meghan asked.

“Yup, Hilma used it every day.”

“The ATM, every day?” Meghan clarified.

“Hilma withdrew money every day. She always used cash to buy groceries. I thought it was strange when I first started working here. I mean, we’re not in the stone ages. We have card readers at the register. It’s on a dial-up system, but it works.”

Meghan didn’t debate the use of the automatic teller machine. She stepped away from the counter to read the notice of withdrawing fees. It was steep.

Margery leaned against the Plexiglas, watching Meghan. Her chestnut hair cascaded against the security window. Meghan walked back to the counter.

“I know, you’re thinking there’s no way Hilma came in every day and used the ATM, right? I mean, that’s crazy.”

Meghan immediately liked Ariel. She was forthright and got right to the logical conclusion.

“I once added up the service fees annually for withdrawals,” Margery said. “Hilma paid almost $1200 a year in fees. Now, we close on holidays. The store used to close on Sundays until someone broke the front window with a sledgehammer a few years back and bought chips and soda.”

“You meant they stole it.”

“Nope. They left the cash on the register belt. After that, the company decided to keep open the store for seven days. Hilma came in here every day without fail. Cash and groceries,” Margery said.

Meghan smiled. “You’ve been a lot of help.”

“You think someone took her money,” Margery said.

“Can I ask how old you are?” Meghan said.

Margery frowned defensively. “I’ll be eighteen in March. I’m taking online college courses to get my prerequisites out of the way. Then I’m going to Anchorage or Fairbanks for college. Why?”

Meghan liked cultivating active young people. She wanted a network of reliable people. In a place like Noorvik, having a good set of eyes and ears made her job more manageable.

Meghan borrowed a pen and put down her name, email address, and phone number to the police department. “If there’s anything you want to share about this little town between now and when you leave, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Margery beamed. She collected the note, slipped the scrap paper into her pocket, and grinned at Meghan. Margery had perfect white teeth that shone brightly in the stale fluorescent overhead lights.

Chapter Fourteen

 When Meghan left the store with the sack of snacks, toothpaste, and other necessities, she tried ignoring the one bag of groceries that cost her almost $50.00. When a gallon of milk ran $15.00, incidentals weren’t cheap either.

The thick stench of smoke coated the town. A dense layer of choking gray vapor made it difficult seeing the light above the door of the public works building. Meghan thought it was someone’s fireplace burning green wood. Then she considered how difficult it was hauling firewood into Noorvik.

A snowmobile rushed by Meghan, so close the wind pushed at her back. The snow fell like chicken feathers after a pillow fight in the clouds. The accumulation put layers up to her calves. She veered into the sled trail since the machine packed down the fluffy snowfall.

Another snowmobile sailed by, engine roaring, followed closely by another. Meghan turned around, following the machines. She saw in the distance a red-orange glow that cut through the snow and flurries.

As she reached the door