Bones & Boxes: a Hetty Fox Cozy Mystery (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Anna Drake Page B

There’s nothing to say we have a serial killer in our midst.”
    “It’s just that I found the first body.”
    “You did?”
    “Yes, I went with a friend to check on Carrie Flynt that day.”
    “That could be unsettling,” he said. “How are you sleeping?”
    “Poorly.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
    He scowled. “I can give you a prescription to help with that.”
    “Oh goodness, I’d hate to take any more pills.”
    “A glass of wine before bed might help.”
    “I’m not much of a drinker, but I might try that.”
    “There are some over-the-counter products you could try, too. If none of them help, call me. Sleep is important for your health.”
    “Her face haunts me. Did you know her?”
    “He glanced away for a moment. “Yes, I knew Mrs. Flynt. She used to be a housekeeper for my aunt. And Hank, yes, I knew him when he was a boy. I’d seen him around, at least.”
    “Then what do you think’s going on?”
    “Mrs. Fox, for the sake of your blood pressure, it’s probably best you let the police figure that part out.”
    “Do you think they will?”
    “I certainly hope so,” he said patting my arm. “We can’t have someone running around out there frightening good women like yourself, now can we?”
    “Or killing them, either,” I added.
    “Indeed.”
    “Aren’t you afraid?” I asked.
    His eyes grew round. “Me?”
    “Carrie cleaned for your aunt while she lived. That gives you a small connection to the murders.”
    He laughed. “A very weak one, I’d say.”
    He didn’t appear bothered by my questions. But I wasn’t sure what to make of his response. He’d kept his focus mostly on my health. I knew one thing though. After this performance of mine, if he ever caught wind of Andrew’s existence in my life, he and my daughter would have to fight each other for the honor of locking me up.
     
    ***
     
    Traffic on the drive back to Hendricksville was light. Road conditions had improved enormously from my trip over.  To either side of the car, farm fields drifted past. Tall trees dotted the fencerows, their winter branches standing out, dark and naked against the blue sky. And as I set my driving on autopilot, thoughts of the murders and what I’d learned caught and held my attention.
    According to Andrew, Oberton liked George Pratt for the murder. I pictured him in my mind’s eye and wondered what Oberton had discovered to draw him to this rather unimpressive person. Then, I reminded myself that I knew almost nothing about him — a part from the fact that he’d done a good job repairing the closet wall for me.
    Of course, neither Barstow or Hubbard were off the table. Either of them could have committed the crime. I sighed, feeling that I had failed in my attempt to pry information from the good doctor. I seriously doubted I could safely go at him again.
    Then my thoughts drifted to Carrie’s niece. Jennifer was the administrator of her aunt’s will. If she’d also had power of attorney, she might have helped herself to the money. And she might have killed Carrie to keep the theft from being discovered. It didn’t sound as though the boys knew much of their aunt’s life. But I wondered how much Jennifer had known about Carrie’s affairs?
    Reaching the outskirts of Hendricksville, I slowed and blended in with city traffic, which was heavy. People were heading to lunch. I decided to join them and pulled into the parking lot of a fast food joint. I loved hamburgers, and the thought of hot French fries could almost make me swoon.
    By the time I got there, high school students had beaten me to the restaurant. I stood in a long line of restless young men and women. Their conversations were loud and filled with good cheer. But I knew, even at that age, life was challenging. Popularity clicks could inflict pain. Friends could turn out to be false. And a well placed word could cut like a knife.
    Gradually, the mob of students moved through the lines, gabbing trays stuffed with food