7 Never Haunt a Historian Read Free Page B

deficits as a carpenter). For all his hound blood, Wiley proved no help whatsoever; once they left the vicinity of the house his interest waned and he took off again in the direction of Leigh’s place. The women finished their sweep by walking along the creek and looking for any disturbances in the brush along the woods, but they saw nothing unusual. Archie’s truck wasn’t locked, but according to Cara his keys were in his bedroom, sitting on the dressing table alongside his wallet.
    “I think you should call Maura,” Cara said when their search was complete. “Not that there’s any evidence of foul play exactly, but… well, maybe they can locate a family member who should know?”
    Leigh nodded gravely. Maura Polanski might be her best friend since college, but the career policewoman, now a respected detective in line for promotion to Lieutenant, was less than enthusiastic about Leigh’s “abilities” in the field of homicide. More accurately, she had threatened that the next time Leigh’s name appeared in one of her investigative reports, it would be as the victim of said homicide, perpetuated by the detective herself.
    Then again, Maura threatened a lot of things. And her bark was always worse than her bite. Besides, Archie’s situation was different. Wasn’t it?
    “I’ll call her,” Leigh agreed as the women set off walking home along the creek. “But I’m not looking forward to it.”
    Cara smiled. “Don’t be silly. You’re merely doing your neighborly duty, aren’t you? Besides—”
    “Yoo hoo!” a loud, screechy voice called to them from the back of the Browns’ house. “You two come on up here and tell me what’s going on! What’re you looking for? Did the kids lose something?”
    Leigh and Cara glanced up at the personal care home’s generous wooden deck, where an elderly woman in an athletic pantsuit stood hanging over the rail, supporting herself with one hand while holding a pair of high-powered binoculars in the other.
    “Looks like we’re busted,” Cara whispered. “Maybe we should have been more discreet?”
    Leigh shook her head. “Wouldn’t have mattered. Her crime sensing makes me look like an amateur.” She cupped both hands around her mouth. “We’ll be up in a minute, Mrs. Rhodis!”
    The older woman leaned out even farther. “Say what?”
    “Oh dear,” Cara responded hastily, turning toward the house. “Let’s get up there before she vaults over the rail!”
    Leigh hustled in kind. Sadly, her cousin was not exaggerating. Arthritis may have rendered the eighty-something-year-old Adith Rhodis barely able to walk, but her mind was still sharp as a tack—and more dangerously inquisitive than ever. The woman was so bored at being homebound that she could find intrigue in anything from a distant plume of smoke to a half-eaten box of breakfast cereal. And where there was no mystery to be found, she would happily create one.
    “I saw you girls looking in the bushes out there!” Adith beamed when the two had finished climbing the steep wooden stairs that led up to the Browns’ back deck. “What are you after?”
    Leigh smiled at her friend’s latest performance-ready, moisture-wicking warm up suit, this one in midnight blue with shiny white racing stripes. Adith had hung onto her prized collection of seventies-era polyester housedresses and pantsuits well into the new millennium, but after losing fifteen pounds to Emma Brown’s healthy cooking, her longstanding love affair with double-knit had been forced to evolve. Leigh had been as happy as anyone to see the retirement of the olive-green zippered dress and burnt orange skorts, but Adith’s new penchant for athletic-fit spandex did take some getting used to.
    “We didn’t lose anything,” Leigh said carefully, giving the answer she had prepared while coming up the steps. We were just poking around at Archie’s place to see if we could find out where he went. He’s gone out of town, apparently, but