High Stakes, a Hetty Fox Short: a Hetty Fox Short Story (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 3) Read Free

swivelled around. “Hugh,” I yelled, waving. “Over here.” I took off for the porch at a gallop with Megan trailing behind me. Hugh caught up with us in seconds. “Under there,” I said, pointing at the dark opening beneath the wide boards.
    “Thanks Grandma.” He shot me a broad grin and scurried under the structure.
    Megan looked physically ill. “That’s just the kind of place to be stuffed full of spiders.”
    “He’ll be fine.”
    She glanced my way and shook her head. “You two will be the death of me.”
    But a few minutes later, Hugh crawled out from under the wooden porch with Chaos held tightly in his hand. He shot me an admiring glance. “You’re the best, Gram.”
    Megan’s jaw dropped. “How did you do that?” She turned a disbelieving eye on me.
    I smiled. “Someone came along and whispered the pet’s whereabouts in my ear.”
    Megan laughed. “Right. Anyway, let’s go inside. I need coffee.”
    “You’re not the only one.” And I might have drunk more of it, if I’d known then what was yet to come.
     
    ***
     
    About a half-hour later, I returned home. I was happy to have solved my grandson’s problem but still disturbed by my brush with a corpse. And I couldn’t see anything I could do to settle myself.
    In the kitchen, I removed some leftover chicken from the fridge. As I began cutting it into cubes, Andrew showed up. “Didn’t I make you look like a champ for little Hughey?”
    I smiled. “You did, and thank you. But where have you been since then?”
    “I hung around at the crime scene. I wanted to see what they had to say.”
    “You shouldn’t do that.”
    “But it’s okay when you tell me to?”
    I had sent  him to spy on Oberton a couple of times before. So I kept my mouth shut. He was here now, and no one had apparently been running around town claiming to have seen a ghost. Thank heavens for small favors.
    Andrew accepted my silence without further comment and resumed his report. “The coroner estimated the time Mazor died at somewhere around midnight. He’d apparently been shot in the chest.
    "Shot?"
    Andrew nodded. "They found little evidence anywhere near the body beyond your skid marks and a single foot print in a man’s size nine. Since the victim wore a size eleven shoe, they suspect the print belongs to the killer. Also It was some special kind of brand. Kinda rare, I guess. They mentioned its name, so I’ll recognize the shoe if I come across it.”
    I put my knife down. “A man’s shoe print? This case hinges on a man’s shoe?”
    “I’m only telling you what I heard. The only other important point is that Mazor wasn’t killed where he was found. He’d apparently been dragged to where you ran into him. But those tracks didn’t lead very far. So police don’t know exactly which direction the killer came from.”
    “And I was just the lucky duck to run headfirst into the mess.”
    Andrew grinned. “Don’t worry. Oberton’s not holding it against you.”
    “And I’m so glad to hear it.” Having finished chopping chicken, I set a small bowl of it aside for my cat, and grabbed an onion to add to my portion.
    “That may be,” Andrew responded, “but the bigger issue is what can we do to help the police?”
    I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”
    “Look, Oberton and his men are back there moving along at a snail’s pace. While here you and I are, fleet of foot and totally unemployed.”
    I turned a dark gaze on Andrew. “I have no intention of getting involved in this case.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I don’t know the victim. Because no one I know is involved in any way with this death. And because I don’t want to. The last time I became involved with a murder was bad enough.”
    “But what about your civic duty? Oberton could use a hand. He’s terribly short of staff. You know that as well as I do. Besides, we can do things he can’t.”
    I scoffed. “Do you really think we can find the person who killed