Black River Read Online Free PDF Page B

sixty-five today.”
    Dave nodded. “And, now, after all these years, an old Civil War photo turns up from out of the blue and is donated to the Confederate Museum.” Dave looked down at the picture in the newspaper. “But the woman in the photo, although quite beautiful, is as anonymous as any of the many unknown soldiers buried in Civil War cemeteries.”
    “Not to Gus Louden,” O’Brien said. “He’s convinced she was his great, great grandmother. But he can’t prove it.”
    Nick ladled a second scoop of chili in his bowl. “Maybe you ought to take the job. You’re done with teaching at the college ‘till the winter semester. Your charter fishing biz…” Nick grinned. “Well, the last time you went out, you caught a submarine on your anchor. Maybe you should do what you’re good at…finding people, finding stuff, not finding fish.”
    Dave grunted. “He’s right, Sean. This could be the perfect time to do some PI work. I always said that you’ve got a sixth sense. Might as well be compensated for using it.”
    “After years as a detective, I’ve done everything I can to keep from going back there.”
    “Indeed,” Dave said. “But, like it or not, you’re often back in that arena. Why not do it professionally, even on a limited scale? Finding an old painting seems innocuous, at least safe.”
    O’Brien’s cell phone vibrated. He answered and Kim Davis said, “Sean, I’ve been racking my brain, and now I remember where I saw the painting that looks a lot like the woman in the old photo.”

N ick glanced at the TV screen behind Dave’s bar. “Crank up the sound. Since I’ve been at sea, looks like the hands of time got turned back. Why’re all those dudes dressed as Civil War soldiers? And why is a police crime scene tape around that field?”
    “Hold on, Nick,” O’Brien said, trying to hear over the phone as a trawler two slips down fired up its big diesels. “Kim, did you come up with something?”
    “Maybe. A few months ago I was antiquing with my friend, Beverly, and we were in this shop in DeLand. On the second floor they have lots of turn-of-the-century stuff, some things from the 1800s. I remember it because Bev pointed out the painting, saying the woman looked a little like me. I didn’t think so, but now I remember where I saw it.”
    “What’s the name of the store?”
    “Crawford Antiques. Are you going there?”
    “Maybe. Dave and Nick think I should work as a private investigator.” O’Brien watched Nick grin and lift up a bottle of The Poet in a mock toast, his eyes cutting back to the TV screen.
    Kim said, “Unfortunately, your investigations manage to become very public. That’s how the elderly gentlemen knew about you. Maybe you can find the painting for him, give him some kind of family closure and let it end there. I just hope that old painting is in no way connected to that Civil War movie they’re filming. There’s a news bulletin on now. Talk to you later.”
    She disconnected and O’Brien said, “Nick, you can turn up the sound.”
    “Good,” he grinned. “I’ve been tryin’ to read lips.”
    Dave reached for the remote control, turning up the audio. A news reporter stood under some oak trees, red and blue lights from stationary police cruisers flashing, yellow crime tape in the background. He said, “Detectives aren’t calling the shooting death of a Civil War re-enactor a homicide, but they’re not calling it an accident either. They’ve interviewed the re-enactors working on the set of the feature film, Black River , and according to one detective, of the forty-five re-enactors playing Union soldiers, none was aware a Minié ball was in his rifle when the first barrage of gun blasts were fired. All of the rifles were supposed to be shooting blanks. Since this was the first battle scene filmed for the movie, police theorize that the round might have been left over from target practice. However, they say the investigation will continue. To