Marcie's Murder Read Online Free PDF

said.
    Karen left the station unhappy and drove over to the Harmony Mot or Inn , where she checked in and got herself a room. She wandered down to Hank’s room but the door was locked and sealed , so she turned in and got some sleep.
    Now she was sitting in the big front window of Mary’s Donuts on Bluefield Street finishing her second super - size d coffee while watching the morning traffic pass through downtown Harmony, such as it was . As she swigged a mouthful , a big guy with curly hair and a beard walked by on the sidewalk outside . He wore a light-colored dress shirt with no tie and the sleeves turned up on his forearms, black trousers , and black oxford shoes. As she watched, he stepped off the curb and walked around to the driver’s side of a dusty white Dodge Ram pickup truck parked in the street just past the entrance of the donut shop. He got into the truck and drove away.
    Karen rushed outside but was too late to catch a glimpse of the license plate. She looked around. A young woman and a small girl were approach ing her on the sidewalk.
    Karen flashed her ID and badge. “Excuse me , did you see the man who just got into that white pickup truck?”
    The woman shook her head and hurried past.
    “M a ’am?” Karen thought about following her and then changed her mind when she saw a man approach ing from the same direction.
    “Excuse me, sir, did you see the bearded man who just got into a white pickup truck and drove away?”
    “Didn’t see nothing.”
    She went up and down the sidewalk, stopp ing several other people, but no one had seen anything or would talk to her. She was standing there with her hands on her hips, casting around for another potential witness , when a police cruiser pulled in to the curb, lights flashing . T wo cops tumbled out, weapons drawn.
    “Police, freeze! Hands where we can see them!”
    “Shit on a fuckin ’ stick . ” Karen held up the wallet containing her badge and ID.
    “Don’t you know it’s a crime to impersonate a police officer?” demanded the cop whose name tag said Brook s . He was about thirty, with short brown hair and thick eyebrows. He snatch ed the wallet out of her hand while his partner , whose name tag said Louden , covered Karen with what she saw was a poorly-kept Beretta 92F. Louden was younger, with a blond brush cut and a trimmed blond mustache.
    “Doesn’t seem to slo w you boys down much . ”
    “Button it, smartass . ” Brooks took her ID back to the police cruiser and called it in.
    A minute later he came back and returned it to her. “Our apologies, Detective Stainer. We weren’t informed of your presence in Harmony this morning.”
    Karen looked at Louden, who was still holding his weapon. “Down, Rover. Play time’s over.”
    Louden glanced at Brooks, who shrugged . He holstered the Beretta.
    “Deputy Chief Branham asks if you’d kindly come with us to the station.”
    “Sounds good ,” Karen said, turning away , “ b ut I’ve got my own ride.”
    Louden followed her across the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the parking lot of the donut shop. When he saw the car she was unlocking, he stopped short.
    “That’s your car ?”
    “Y u p.” Karen opened the door of the Firebird , got in and rolled down the window . Karen’s older brother Delbert was an auto mechanic in Houston . He ’ d bought the car , one of the Redbird editions, ten years ago for three thousand dollars from a regular customer who was short of cash. Delbert put a thousand dollars’ worth of work into it and sold it that summer to Karen for four thousand dollars when she was visiting back home. She drove it back from Texas and had driven it every summer since, putting it in storage each winter and switching to a beat-up pickup truck.
    “Wow,” Louden said, staring at her. “Hot.”
    Karen looked at him.
    “I mean the car. The car. Is h ot.”
    Karen shook her head and gunned the engine into life .
    Branham was walking into his office with a cup