Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 02 - Murder in the Maine Woods Read Free

pulse? Check for breath?”
    “He’s not breathing. At least, not noticeably. I don’t
    think he has a pulse, but I’m not sure. I checked. Sort of. Who kno ws whether I had the right spot?”
    “Where are you?”
    “Sitting in the dirt.”
    “At Verney’s?”
    “Yes, this is Verney’s dirt.”
    “I’m leaving now. An ambulance is on the way. Do you know CPR?”
    “No.” Oh, thank God for that.
    “He’s got two nephews, Lenny and Stan. I’ll call them when I hang up. They may get there before me. But you should get out of there. Don’t wait for me, Nora. Just in case there was foul play and someone’s lurking around.”
    “I’ll get in the truck and lock the door. Mary Fran’s with me. Actually, she’s not exactly here . Oh, wait, here she comes, running like a crazy woman.”
    “Mary Fran?” he said. “Why on earth ? Never mind. Nora, leave now. I should have said that immediately. Please leave.”
    “I saw him.” Mary Fran gasped, flopping down beside me like a puppet with the strings cut. “Omigod, Nora. He’s dead. Poor Buster. What happened to him?”
    “Where’d you disappear to?” I asked.
    “I went to get something from my car, but when I heard you running, I ran back. Right in the front door. It wasn’t locked. I was going to rescue you.”
    “Yeah, I bet.” I eyed her suspiciously. “Get what from the car?”
    “My mints. I had a funny taste in my mouth.”
    “Nora.” Nick roared from the cell phone propped on my thigh.
    I put the phone to my ear again. “See you when you get here,” I said to Nick, smirking at Mary Fran, her with her dumb mint story.
    I broke the connection. Mary Fran and I got in the truck and locked the doors. I knew Nick would arrive soon, and that made me feel safe enough. Of course, I wasn’t alone, which helped, but not a whole lot.
    Mints, my ass.
    I called Great -Aunt Ida and told her what happened. She wanted me to come home.
    “Out of harm’s way , Nora. You never know if … ” She paused. “I have a better idea. I’ll call Hannah. You need reinforcements. We’ll be there in a jiffy.”
    “No. Definitely not.”
    I have three lovable, but nosy great-aunts in their eighties—Ida, who loves a mystery whether it’s in a crime novel, on one of her favorite crime shows, or in the world around her; Hannah who dresses flamboyantly in lots of reds and purples and likes to be in charge of everything; and Agnes, who is a few hundred pounds overweight, hard of hearing and seldom wears her hearing aid.
    “No, Ida. Please don’t come,” I repeated. “The police are on their way.” I explained about waiting for Nick, and assured her I’d be home soon.
    “Maybe you shouldn’t be a detective any more,” Ida said. “I’m sorry I ever started that rumor.”
    “Don’t worry. Buster probably died of a heart attack. I’ll call you back when Nick and the ambulance arrive.” I hung up and we sat quietly for a few minutes.
    “Mary Fran, what do you know about Buster? Do you think he would poison Vivian’s dogs?”
    “I don’t think so. Nah. He was a good guy. I heard gossip in Hot Heads Heaven but I never heard bad stuff about Buster, except he was cheap sometimes. Tight with money.”
    Twenty-five minutes later the Silver Stream Sheriff’s SUV raced up the driveway and skidded to a stop in a shower of pebbles, Deputy Trimble at the wheel, Sheriff Nick Renzo in the passenger seat. Deputy Miller, the hunk with the twitch in his eye, drove up behind them in the unmarked Ford Taurus that everyone in Silver Stream, past the age of five, knew was a police vehicle.
    I got out of my truck on rubbery legs. Nick, bless him, was at my side in seconds. Tall, rugged Nick, who belongs in these woods, who is tough and gentle and caring, who could be my hero if I let him. If I let my guard down. But I’m not ready for a relationship and neither is he. Besides, Silver Stream with its woods and wild animals is not my home. I am afraid of wild animals, and