7 Never Haunt a Historian Read Online Free PDF

medium-sized white and brown spotted mongrel. The dog looked pitifully thin and wore no collar. At least half a dozen newborn pups wriggled at her side, squeaking and squealing like a symphony.
    “Is this Mr. Pratt’s dog?” Maura asked.
    “No,” Leigh replied, her eyes perusing the uniformly black pups. “But under the circumstances, I’d say she has a pretty good case for child support.”
    The mother dog’s growls turned to a snarl. She sprang to her feet, dislodging the unhappy pups and causing a cacophony of even louder squeals.
    Leigh shut off the beam, and the women backed away.
    “You didn’t see anything else down there, did you?” Maura asked as she stood up.
    “It was pretty dim, but there was no sign of Archie—or any other human—if that’s what you mean,” Leigh answered as she replaced the door, leaving an opening equal to what had been there before.
    “How long do you think the dog’s been down there?”
    Leigh considered. “Less than a week, for sure. Probably only a day or so. The pups were tiny.”
    Maura blew out a breath. “Well, we’ll leave the animal control to you and the shelter. I can’t see that the new arrivals have any bearing on Mr. Pratt’s disappearance.”
    “No,” Leigh agreed. “That door has been rotted away for a while. The dog was probably sniffing around for a sheltered place to have the pups and just wandered in.” Something incongruous pricked at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t seem to identify it. “I’ll bring some food and water over for her; she must be starving. But we shouldn’t try to move her right now. Can you tell the officers—”
    “I’ll make them aware,” Maura replied, her voice sounding tired again as she set off toward her car. “You want a ride home?”
    Leigh considered. Her house was within easy walking distance, but her friend’s demeanor continued to bother her. “Sure,” she replied, falling into step beside the detective as they rounded the tool shed. “How’s Gerry these days?” she asked conversationally, inquiring after Maura’s husband of eleven years, who was a lieutenant with the city police force.
    “He’s good,” Maura responded dully. “Been gone a couple days now, though. The department sent him to a conference in Minneapolis for a week.” The detective stopped short suddenly, her gaze on the ground. “Did you see this?”
    Leigh looked down. The ground next to a maple tree had been recently disturbed. It was only a small area, maybe a foot across, filled with relatively fresh, upturned earth. “Archie’s dog, Wiley, is a digger,” she said with a shrug. “I imagine Archie has lots of damage to undo. I’ve seen refilled holes like that all along the creek, even in our yard.”
    Maura’s brow furrowed. “Let me get this straight. Mr. Pratt has a dog—an intact male, evidently—who wanders all over the neighborhood digging holes. Then Mr. Pratt himself goes around with a shovel, putting the dirt back in?”
    “Well, he—” Leigh’s own brow furrowed. The idea did seem pretty lame, now that she thought about it. Wiley did dig holes… she had seen him do it. But Archie had never mentioned anything about it to her, much less seemed apologetic. And why would the man bother to fill in holes in his own yard, when old farm machinery lay rusting by the garage and his front porch was falling in?
    “I don’t know,” she answered finally. “I guess I haven’t given it much thought.”
    “How long have you been seeing these holes?”
    Leigh felt suddenly sheepish. “Oh, a long time. The kids started noticing them when we first moved in. We always just figured it was Wiley.”
    Maura harrumphed. “Sounds a little fishy to me,” she proclaimed. “You sure you know who’s doing the digging?”
    Leigh felt even more sheepish. When her and Cara’s offspring got a scheme into their heads, there was little she wouldn’t put past them. Particularly not with her deceptively innocent-seeming