Hellbox (Nameless Detective) Read Online Free PDF Page A

alongside an oval track and field, a handful of low shedlike buildings and animal pens, part of an open grassy area ringed by picnic tables where a flea market was going on, and a wide hardpan parking area. A marquee sign on a couple of tall poles announced the Fourth of July festivities, and advertised stock car racing the last Saturday of every month through September and a flea market every Sunday.
    There were quite a few people wandering among the vendor tables in the flea market. Kerry suggested we go in and see what they had for sale.
    “More useless junk, probably,” I said.
    “They might have some local produce. Flea markets usually do.”
    I turned into the lot and we wandered around among the two dozen or so vendors sweltering under awnings and umbrellas and not doing much business. A lot of junk, all right, but Kerry was right about local produce; she bought a carton of ripe strawberries and some vegetables. I didn’t expect to buy anything … until I spotted an old guy who had a bunch of old paperback books spread out on a table and in boxes underneath. I hadn’t brought along anything to read, figuring on just an overnight stay, but now that we were going to be here for a few days, I would need some escapist entertainment. Most of the paperbacks were westerns in ratty condition, but I rummaged up a couple of mysteries by Fredric Brown and Day Keene, pulp writers I’d read and admired.
    We didn’t stay long—too hot out in the open field. After we left, I drove us a few miles up the county road to where a small lake was tucked in among the pines, around the lake, then back into Six Pines. We made a brief stop to pick up some additional groceries, did a little roaming in the hillsides above the town, and finally headed up-valley to the rented cabin. Enough exploring for one day.
    The cabin faced west, into the blistery eye of the sun, so we stayed inside, sipping cold drinks and reading until early evening. Kerry made a light supper, and by then it was cool enough to eat on the deck. Afterward, we sat and watched the sun fall below the westward mountains, the sky taking on a smoky red color. A light breeze kicked up and it was much cooler as dusk began to settle.
    “Nice day,” Kerry said. “Just about perfect except for that little incident in the café.”
    “Jerks everywhere. The other locals seem friendly enough.”
    “I thought so, too. The more I see of Green Valley, the more I like it. If Emily wasn’t coming home Sunday, I wouldn’t mind staying over the Fourth. The parade and picnic sound like fun.”
    “Well, we could stay for that and drive back early Saturday.”
    “Yes, we could, but the traffic is sure to be horrendous. Anyhow, we don’t have to decide yet. Let’s just take it one day at a time.”
    “I’m all for that,” I said. “What I’d like to do tomorrow is check out the river and the trout streams.”
    “Go right ahead. No fishing for me.”
    “You might enjoy it if you’d just give it a try.”
    “Stand in an icy stream and murder some poor trout? I don’t think so.”
    “I don’t keep or eat them anymore,” I said. “Catch and release.”
    “The hooks still tear up their mouths. I just don’t see the fun in it.”
    The fun was in tramping through the woods, communing with nature, as much as in testing your skill with a fly rod. But I’d made that point to her before and it wasn’t worth repeating. You either had the fishing gene or you didn’t.
    After a time she said, “Shall we go ahead and make an offer before we leave? Or should we wait until Emily sees the place?”
    “She’ll like it all right, but there’s no need to rush. If we seem too eager, the owners may try to hold out for their asking price.”
    “But you do want to make an offer?”
    “Pretty sure.”
    “Then we’ll come back up next week with Emily and do it then. Agreed?”
    “Agreed.”
    She nodded and smiled. “We really are going to love it here,” she said, as if the offer