Broken Bones. Gina McMurchy-Barber

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СКАЧАТЬ think how we’d all followed those same stars, wishing on them, sleeping under them. I scooched down in my seat and rested my head against the window so I could peer up at that night sky as we peeled down that black highway.

      It must have been at least midnight when we finally pulled into Golden. By then my butt was numb and my eyes were blurry. Eddy found Aunt Norma’s house pretty easily, probably because it was right next to the police station. When I got to the front door, there weren’t any lights on, only a note. I pulled it down and read it by the truck headlights.

      Hi, kiddo,

      Welcome to Golden. I’m over at the newspaper office working on some last-minute news for the Saturday paper. I shouldn’t be too long. Just come in and make yourself at home. We’ll get caught up when I get back.

      Love,

      Aunt Norma

      P.S. The door isn’t locked — never is! In fact, the only places that get locked around here are the bank and the jail.

      I turned the knob and pushed the squeaky door open, but nearly jumped off the landing when something sleek and black bolted out and skimmed past my leg. “Licorice! You startled me.” I was pretty sure my aunt’s cat didn’t give two hoots about how I felt, though he did stop to give me a second glance before darting into the night.

      My hand fumbled around the wall, searching for the light switch. When I finally flicked it on, I looked over the room and wasn’t sure where I should step or put my backpack. Unlike Aunt Margaret’s house, which was so clean and orderly you were afraid to sit down, Aunt Norma’s place was a disaster. Mugs and newspapers were all over the coffee table, and balled-up socks, more newspapers, a cribbage board, and a box of crackers occupied the sofa. I glanced into the kitchen where dishes were piled by the sink. And there was no way to miss the musky smell that must have been cat poop mixed with kitty litter.

      “I feel at home already,” I pronounced, smiling.

      Eddy raised her eyebrows and grinned back. “Yeah, me, too! Are you okay being here alone until your aunt gets home?”

      I nodded.

      “Okay, well, then I think I’m going to get on over to Mary’s Motel. I’m feeling like a zombie. I’ll give you a call in the morning — make that late morning!”

      I watched her drive off and closed the door.

      The first thing was to make a place to sit down. I moved some of the stuff off the sofa and put it on top of all the other things on the coffee table. I thought maybe I’d watch some TV until Aunt Norma came home, but after hunting around for it I finally figured out that there wasn’t one. Instead the rooms were filled with neat stacks of books. They were heaped in the corner and on top of the dining room table, and along one entire wall shelves were crammed with them. The other thing I noticed was all the yellow Post-it Notes stuck randomly everywhere. I read some: “Check out what make of vehicle Brenner drives.” “Council meeting Friday — bring camera.” “Shopping list — cat food, dish soap, frozen corn, maple syrup.” “Peggy coming Friday — get milk.” She had weird quotes, too, like: “‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so’ — Shakespeare.”

      With no TV to watch and much too tired to read, I curled up at one end of the sofa next to some old newspapers, a cereal bowl, and a brush full of matted black cat hair. I didn’t know how long I sat there waiting for Aunt Norma, but sometime later I woke and found myself stretched out on the sofa with a pillow under my head, a blanket spread over me, and all the lights out. Sleepily, I turned over and mumbled, “Night, Aunt Norma.”

      Out of the dark came another tired voice from the next room. “Night, Pegs. See you in the morning.”

      Chapter Three

      The first thing I noticed when I awakened the next morning was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. As I sat up, I also saw that the coffee table was clear except for a basket of fresh fruit in the middle, the dining room table was set for breakfast, and Aunt Norma was standing at the sink washing dishes.

      “Hi, Aunt Norma,” I called out groggily.

      She turned toward me and raised her soapy hands. “There’s my girl. How did you sleep?”

      I got up to give her a hug but stumbled over some hiking shoes.

      “Sorry,” she said. “I meant to put those away.”

      I threw my arms around my aunt. “That’s okay. Messiness makes me feel relaxed, like I’m on holiday.”

      “Say no more. I’ve lived with your Aunt Margaret, too, you know.”

      We both laughed and then I gave Aunt Norma an extra-long squeeze. “Mmmm.” I yawned and stretched my arms to the ceiling. “What smells so good?”

      “I made you my favourite — cornbread. I even got some real maple syrup to slather on top.” She turned to the oven and opened it wide. Inside was a pan big enough to feed ten people. “Hope you’re good and hungry!”

      I ate three large pieces of cornbread soaked in syrup, which might explain why my stomach soon felt as if it were stuffed with a football. I groaned happily. “Thanks. That was delicious.”

      “Good. I wanted something special to celebrate your visit. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived last night. When I finally pulled in, it was around 2:00 a.m. and I didn’t want to wake you. Good thing you’re like me — able to sleep anywhere.”

      “Do you always work so late, Aunt Norma?”

      “Only if I’m on to a scoop — that’s newspaper jargon for a big story.” Her voice became serious. “Over the last month there have been a number of vandalisms like the one at the Pioneer Cemetery that brought you here.”

      Maybe it was the fact that I was originally from a big city, but I almost snickered at the thought of vandalism being a big scoop.

      As if Aunt Norma could read my mind, she added, “It’s not that vandalism is so strange, though we hardly ever get any around here. It’s the fact that they’re all directed at historical sites and cemeteries, particularly the burials of important Golden pioneers.”

      “But I thought you already knew who was responsible.”

      She shrugged and frowned. “The police have been questioning a teenage boy in connection with the disturbed burial at the Pioneer Cemetery.”

      Figures it was a teenager, same as before. “If he’s responsible for the Pioneer Cemetery vandalism,” I said, “it has to be him who damaged the other sites, too, right?”

      “It’s possible, but I find it all somewhat suspicious. I mean, most teenagers don’t know a thing about Golden’s history and don’t give two hoots, either.”

      “Aunt Norma, you sound more like a detective than a newspaper reporter. Why don’t you let the police solve this?”

      “Well, you could say we’re working on the case together. I tell Skip — that’s Constable Hopkins to you — what I know, and he slips me a tip or two back.”

      “Skip Hopkins, eh?”

      “Yeah, СКАЧАТЬ