Dead Dancing Women Read Online Free PDF Page B

wasn’t much good and instead saved my banking for Traverse City.
    The combined Leetsville Police and Fire Station was just past the Baptist church, on Divinity Drive. I pulled up to the front of the stone building and parked my Jeep. I could see Chief Barnard and Deputy Dolly inside, in earnest conversation with a state police officer.
    The two men stood as I entered. Nice, old-fashioned chivalry. Dolly leaned forward in her chair, hat in her hands, a worried look on her face. She glanced up and nodded curtly.
    â€œEmily Kincaid, this is Officer Brent with the state police. He’ll be looking into Mrs. Poet’s death, along with me and Dolly here. The sheriff’s going to do what he can to help, too. It’s just that everybody’s stretched kind of thin right now,” the chief said, introducing me to a tall officer with a shaved head and a unibrow that took up the middle of his face. The man nodded curtly as I took the only chair left in the room.
    â€œEmily’s our local writer,” the chief said, and he gave a smile that never got beyond his tight mouth. “She’s the one found poor Miz Poet’s head in her garbage can.” He turned to me. “I’ve been telling Officer Brent, here, what happened.”
    â€œYou break the news to her family?” I asked, pulling at a notebook from my purse.
    The chief nodded and looked unhappy. “Of course. Did that right away. Only got the one daughter, Amanda.”
    â€œHow’d she take it?”
    â€œHow’d you imagine a daughter would take that kind of news?”
    â€œYou tell her it was just the head?”
    â€œWell, not directly. Just said part of her mother turned up.”
    â€œTell her where?”
    â€œNo need for that much information. Amanda fainted dead away and we had to get a neighbor lady over to take care of her. Amanda’s a refined woman. Delicate, I’d say. Very delicate. We’ll call on her again this afternoon. Should tell you, too, Emily, Officer Brent and a bunch of us are going to be out by your place tomorrow morning, combing those woods for the rest of Miz Poet. Figure the body—or whatever’s left—can’t be far.”
    â€œAny idea, yet, who did it?”
    He stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head.
    â€œAny idea where, exactly, you’ll be searching?” I persisted.
    â€œAround your woods. Cover the whole area, I imagine.” He looked at Officer Brent who stared, frozen-faced, at the ceiling.
    I took a deep breath. “I should tell you, Bill Corcoran asked me to cover the story for the Northern Statesman . Thought I ought to let you know.” I smiled my best smile all around, though nobody smiled back.
    â€œIn that case, Ms. Kincaid,” the very straight-backed officer spoke up, after clearing his throat, “I think we’ll keep this interview to what happened out at your place. Everything else will have to come from Gaylord.”
    I nodded. What I expected anyway. Gaylord was the main state police post in the area.
    â€œIf you’ll just go over for me …” Officer Brent took a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket and waited for me to begin. I waited for a question. He looked up, surprised, and not too friendly. “Any idea where the head came from? Anybody have it in for you? Did you know Ruby Poet? Know any reason somebody would want to kill her and put her head in your garbage can?”
    I sat back and answered all of his questions, stopping only when Dolly sniffed and twirled her hat.
    â€œYou know, Officer Brent,” she said, her mouth drawn down, her eyes looking away from his face. “You’re going to have problems with the folks around here talking to you. They’re friendly people, all right, but not with strangers. Now, me and Chief Barnard, well, we know ’em. We knew Ruby Poet and her daughter, Amanda. We know their friends.” She shook her head. “Be a lot