Mystery at Saddle Creek. Shelley Peterson

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Hannah and Bird drove in silence until they reached the cozy white clapboard house where Julia had spent the night. As they pulled into the lane, Liz and Julia came running out, all flushed and excited.

      “Aunt Hannah! Bird!” shouted Julia. “What’s going on? We heard all the sirens, but we didn’t want to bike down to see because you were coming.” Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and her pretty face was strained with worry. “What happened?”

      Hannah chose her words carefully. “A woman was hit on the head. She’s gone to the hospital now. The police, ambulance and fire truck were there — that’s why there was so much noise.” Hannah turned to Liz. “Is your mom home?”

      The diminutive girl shook her shiny black curls. “She’ll be b ... back around four. The neighbour’s home.”

      Bird looked at her watch. It was only two o’clock. “Why not come with us?” She looked at Hannah for approval. “Julia and I are going out on the trails this afternoon and we need someone to ride Joey.”

      Hannah nodded in agreement. “You’d help us out, Liz.”

      Julia chimed in. “Yes! Call and ask your mom!”

      Without a word Liz spun around and raced into the house. She was back in less than a minute with her riding hat plopped on her head and her chaps under her arm.

      A few hours later, Bird walked down from the barn, leaving Julia and Liz cleaning the bridles. They’d had a wonderful ride through the trails along the crest of the Escarpment, and had all but forgotten the upsetting incident on The Grange. Bird breathed in the smell of freshly cut hay. Tomorrow or the next day, whenever it was dried and baled, the hay would start coming in. Cliff Jones, the farm manager, was making preparations. They’d need more than two thousand bales to feed the horses through next winter.

      Sundancer whinnied as she walked past his field. Why didn’t you ride me today? You said you would.

       I thought you said it was kinda hot and the grass was delicious.

       True and true, but I don’t like it when you ride another horse, especially one so inferior.

       A little stuck up, are we? How about I ride you after dinner?

       Maybe yes, maybe no. But more likely yes.

      Bird laughed. It was nice to be back at Saddle Creek.

      As Bird approached the farmhouse, Paul Daniels drove up and parked beside the door. He got out and stretched, then noticed Bird. “Hi there! What’s for dinner?”

      “If you’re here it’s going to be good, that’s all I know. Aunt Hannah’s still trying to impress you.”

      “I hope she never stops!” The veterinarian’s face broke out in a grin. “Don’t tell her that I’m already impressed.”

      Bird smiled broadly. “You just don’t know how to play it cool, do you?” She was startled at her own cheekiness, and covered her mouth. Being able to speak again was part blessing, part curse. It was great to be able to say whatever was on her mind, but sometimes she needed to remind herself not to say everything she thought.

      Paul, however, didn’t seem in the least bit annoyed. “Why bother? Life is too darn short!”

      Hannah appeared at the door, freshly bathed and radiant. Lucky slipped past her legs and ran to Paul, wagging his tail madly. The dog wriggled with joy as he jumped and yelped.

      “Down, pup,” scolded Paul with a wink to Bird. “Play it cool.”

      Liz and Julia came running from the barn. “Aunt Hannah, can Liz stay for dinner? Please?”

      “Of course! Liz, check with your mom, and tell her I can drive you home after dinner, unless you want to spend the night.”

      The girls locked arms and rushed into the house. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” they chanted.

      Paul turned to Bird. “And you think I don’t know how to play it cool?”

      2

      A MYSTERY

      Tanbark felt so alone. More alone than he’d felt for a long, long time. He listened to the breeze ruffling the leaves overhead, and wished he had somebody to talk to. Somebody to tell about what had happened on the road.

       He’d moved his camp since that morning, careful to erase any sign that he’d been there. But he couldn’t erase the memory. The tire iron crunching the woman’s skull. Her surprised expression. The shock in her eyes. The blood gushing. The woman falling. The metal bar clanging to the road. The man on the road, watching him run. And the blood. So much blood. He shook his head to clear the images out as a wave of despair flooded over him. He curled up in a ball and slept.

      WHEN THE DOORBELL RANG, they had finished dinner and were trying to decide whether to go to Best’s for ice cream or slice into the watermelon that Paul had brought from the Apple Factory. Two police officers stood on the porch, their identification in hand. Officer Ed Paris was in his mid-fifties and wide across his middle. Officer Patrick O’Hare was younger by two decades, and slim. Hannah invited them in, and Paul offered them something to eat.

      “No thanks,” Officer Paris replied. “We’re on duty. Sorry to interrupt your evening, but you probably know why we’re here.”

      “Is it about the attack on the woman in Inglewood?” asked Julia, her eyes wide.

      “Yes. The witness was able to help our artist put together a composite sketch. We’re going house to house, asking people to take a look.”

      The younger officer added, “If anyone comes to mind when you see it, go ahead and tell us. We’re trying to find people to interview.”

      “Don’t worry that it’ll get someone in trouble,” Officer Paris added. “Just take a look and say who it reminds you of.”

      He pulled an eight-by-ten sheet of paper out of his case, and turned it to face Hannah. “Remind you of anyone?”

      Hannah took a good look at the sketch. “It could be half a dozen people up here! Dark, longish hair, unshaven, dark eyes, thin face.”

      “Anyone in particular?”

      Hannah shook her head. “No.” She passed it to Paul, who breathed in deeply, then shook his head. “Hannah’s right. Wouldn’t want to start any wild goose chases.”

      Officer Paris frowned. “You’ll have to leave that to us. As Officer O’Hare said, we’re looking for people to interview. Time is of the essence. The man who did this is out there right now and we don’t want him assaulting anybody else.”

      “Can I see?” Liz looked at Julia and giggled. “From here it looks like my mother’s b ... boyfriend.”

      Officer O’Hare grabbed the sketch from Paul and showed it to Liz. Liz and Julia pored over СКАЧАТЬ