The Puzzle Read Free

and a bad thing, depending on who you were. Even though Stephen had a history here, I would always be considered somewhat of an outsider and didn’t need any suspicious behavior added to the mix. I had to remain vigilant without drawing attention to what I was trying to do: find the out truth.
    I did inform my agent about my relocation. Of course, my past book sales helped play in my favor. I wasn’t a top name, but I did okay. Fortunately, no one in town knew I was an author because I wrote under a penname name. Stephen, for some reason, insisted on that from the start. I never really gave it much thought, but now that he was dead, maybe I would.
    To him, my writing was more of a hobby than a job. So I humored him, going along with the anonymity so I could write. Maybe in a way, he was right. It didn’t seem like work to me. Initially I was lucky, got published, and as they say, the rest was history. No blockbusters, but I did pretty well, my book sales gradually increasing every year with each new novel.
    I turned to the mirror to tie my long blonde hair back from my face and tried to concentrate on my best features, my hazel eyes and long lashes, and not my stress-related weight loss. I quickly smoothed on lip gloss . Then I heard the bell on the front door, swung around, and smiled as Jack Thompson entered.
    A year and a half earlier, he had sold Stephen and me the property where he built our log home. Jack’s coarse features softened as he greeted me in his usual friendly manner. He pulled his knit hat off and smoothed down his wiry gray hair.
    “Well, look what the wind just blew in!” I greeted him.
    “Hey there, good lookin ’,” he shot back, smiling.
    At first, I kept my distance with people, but Jack was the exception. His stature, like his personality, could be intimidating to some, but not to me. He became a self-appointed protector of mine since Stephen died. Besides, I figured I could use an ally. On his insistence, he personally helped me finish the house, and his influence helped ease my transition into small town life. Also, it was a well-known fact about town that he had a substantial network of friends in high and low places, and I had no qualms about using that to my advantage either.
    “Speaking of the wind,” Jack said, “Martha just flew by me on the sidewalk, like she was on some kind of mission.”
    “Drug store, ice cream, and new soda jerk, and not necessarily in that order. Need I say more?”
    He laughed. “Oh! Well, that explains it! She’s a bundle all right, uncontrollable and totally unpredictable.”
    I chuckled. “I’m never quite sure what to expect from Martha. And I want to personally thank you for recommending her. I’m still recovering, though.”
    “Isn’t that what friends are for?” he said still laughing. He made his way over to one of my glass display counters. “Listen, Sam. I want to surprise the love of my life with a present for her birthday. Help me pick out something extra special.”
    “Sure. By the way, how is Barbara?”
    “She’s still trying to refine my rough edges, complaining I’m a bad-tempered old coot. Barbara always boasts that she considers me a formidable challenge and might even accept my marriage proposal one of these days. I like a woman with spirit, and usually try to expect the unexpected, but with Barbara, everything’s a surprise. Maybe I need that at my advanced age.”
    “Then consider yourself a lucky guy. Now, let’s see what we can find…”
    And so I proceeded to fill my days with just such everyday tasks.
    I wasn’t going anywhere.

 
     
    Chapter 4
     
    The House That Jack Built
     
    That fall slipped by, more or less uneventfully. I ran the shop, stayed focused, took notes, and resumed my writing. By the end of November, between the locals and weekenders, the town seemed quieter. A seasonal area, it overflowed with tourists during the summer and fall, but then slowly prepared to hibernate as the locals looked