Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews (read aloud txt) 📗

and entering. I didn’t realize I’d have to commit crimes in order to clear myself of suspicion of one.” Jo’s low hissing sounded more like nervous chatter than endless complaints. Either way, I did my best to tune it out as we crept closer to Fiona’s uncle’s property. Or, rather, Fiona’s property. Well, whoever-owned-it-now’s property.

“Dumpster diving isn’t a crime.” I felt compelled to point that out. “And we’re not exactly breaking and entering.”

“Are you sure?” Her low hissing became a stage whisper. “Because it feels like breaking and entering.”

“We’re inquiring,” I whispered back.

Jo absorbed that in silence. “So, it feels like breaking and entering to you too?”

“A little.” I scanned the area as I adjusted the gloves I wore to prevent leaving my fingerprints behind. Jo wore gloves also. Perhaps they were a bit much. “But the cabin’s empty, and we’re not going to take anything. We’re just going to have a look around. Floyd said it’s at the end of this dirt path.”

“It’s a road.”

“It’s not much of a road.” I gave her a sharp look. The Brooklynite in me was sure I was being pranked. The path wasn’t wide enough for a bicycle.

We’d opted to leave my car a distance away and approach the—hopefully empty—cabin on foot. Parking in front of the structure hadn’t been an option. That would’ve been tantamount to shining a spotlight on our borderline illegal activities and alerting any neighborhood patrol, the deputies, not to mention the killer to our presence.

Before picking up Jo, I’d called Floyd. As I suspected, he knew how to get to the cabin. The grumpy Saint Nick really was a treasure trove of local information. In fact, he’d driven out here several times. He’d said something about enjoying the solitude, and that the nearby lake was a good fishing spot.

His familiarity with the location enabled him to provide vivid and detailed instructions for the directionally challenged. Turn right onto Squirrel’s Hunt, which means you’ll turn toward the weathered black-and-white cabin that’s seen better days. About half a mile after that, you’ll see three fat Sugar Maples. They should be on your right. Once you’ve past the Jesus Saves sign on your left, take the next left. I’d only made one wrong turn. Instead of turning left at the Jesus Saves sign, I’d turned right. Fortunately, our course correction had been quick.

“Oh, this is beautiful.” Mesmerized, I stopped in my tracks as Fiona’s family’s cabin appeared before us. “Did you know it was this beautiful?”

“No, I’d never seen it before.” Jo sounded equally enchanted.

I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. The two-story cabin was perhaps fifteen hundred square feet, built from live edge cedar. Three steps led from a graveled walkway to a front porch with a couple of chairs and a pine log swing. To the right was a masonry chimney covered in live river rock. To the left was an empty cedar carport spacious enough to accommodate two cars.

“How should we approach this?” Jo’s whisper prompted me from my scrutiny of Fiona’s cabin in the woods.

In addition to being charming in a rustic nature sort of way, the cabin also seemed well-maintained, as though Fiona had been preparing to either move into the home or sell it. My hope it would be a dilapidated shack we could get into without much effort was quickly laid to rest.

“Let’s try the back.” I led the way to the rear of the cabin.

It was well after six PM. The evening sun cast longer shadows now, but we had almost three hours of daylight left. We could see clearly, but others could see us too. We moved fast, trying to act as natural as possible so we didn’t draw attention to ourselves. The last thing we needed was for a vigilant neighbor to report our admittedly suspicious activity to the sheriff’s department. I didn’t want to have to explain our trespassing to Jed or Errol. I checked over my shoulder again before Jo and I ducked behind the cabin.

“There are four windows.” She pointed toward the cabin.

Five steps led to the cedar deck, which was a little bigger than mine. Four windows were set, two each on either side of the backdoor.

“Let’s hope one of these windows is open.” I climbed the steps to the deck.

This time, my wish came through. The first three windows were locked. But the fourth, offset from the deck, gave when we pushed up on the windowpane. It didn’t open all the way, just enough for a smaller person to attempt to wiggle through.

Jo gave me an expectant look. I wasn’t happy about it, but I capitulated without a word.

I turned to face the deck railing. “This reminds me of all the times Dre and I forgot our house keys. After school, if Mom and Dad were still at work, I’d have to crawl through the window and let him into the house.”

Jo probably had the tougher job, though. I needed her to help balance me as I climbed over the deck railing and into the window. My not-breaking-and-entering landed me in the cabin’s kitchen. Gaining my feet, I pulled my gloves snug again before rushing toward the backdoor. My elbow knocked against something—a wooden rolling pin—on the corner of the kitchen counter. That was a weird place for a rolling pin. Why wasn’t it in a drawer? I steadied it as it started to topple over, then opened the backdoor for Jo.

“Are you okay?” Jo looked me over.

“Yes, thanks.”

She did a visual sweep of the interior. “Do you want to split up?”

I heard an ominous “click” right before Willy Pelt stepped out from behind the wall that separated the kitchen from the great room. My gaze dropped to the gun he pointed at us.

Willy’s voice was flat; his face expressionless. “Y’all want to go right back out that door.”

Chapter 31

In my peripheral vision, I saw Jo raise her hands. I followed suit and tried to ignore how badly my legs