Murder in the Mist Read Online Free PDF Page B

of the night she was shot, and Elio Casper’s threat. She shook off the chill that threatened to chatter her teeth on this picturesque May morning. She lifted her camera from the bicycle’s basket, set the shutter speed, and snapped pictures of the deputy lifting the sheet, random shots of the crowd, and, standing aft on the main deck, a young woman dressed in a white caftan.
    Laura removed the lanyard from her pocket and placed it around her neck. The badge at the end read “Press.” She pushed off and rode to the parking lot, where she parked the bike. “Good morning, Deputy, I’m Laura Friday, the new editor and sole reporter for the Harbor Gazette .”
    “We meet again, Miss Friday.”
    “What’s happened here?”
    “Wife called, said her husband collapsed. By the time we got here, he was dead. Heart attack, most likely.”
    “Do you mind if I look at the body?”
    “You fancy yourself a medical examiner?” The sarcasm in his voice spiked Laura’s own temper. She tamped it down.
    “In New York, investigative reporting was my specialty.”
    “This isn’t New York, and until proven otherwise, it appears the victim died of natural causes. Case closed.”
    “Just like that?”
    “Yep.”
    “We’ll see.” The moment she started up the steep incline, the muscle in her leg refused to respond, causing her to stumble. “Damn.”
    Strong arms held her up. Laura wrested her arm away. “I don’t need your help.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    She took a moment to swallow her aggravation before she half hobbled, half limped toward the ambulance. “Hey…wait a sec…press.” She held the badge forward.
    The overt look from the EMT and the lawman’s almost indiscernible nod in reply didn’t escape Laura. “Thank you, Deputy Carter.”
    She lifted the sheet. No bruising, no indications of a fall, nothing to suggest foul play, until she parted the man’s lips and bent forward. “Uh-huh.”
    “What?” Mitchell Carter said in a flat voice.
    They faced each other like duelers, with that unblinking awareness. She quirked a smile, leaned in close and whispered, “I’ll bet you a lobster dinner and a beer the vic didn’t die of natural causes.”
    “First of all, he’s not a victim. Secondly, I’m a steak-and-bourbon guy.”
    “Then you won’t mind if I take pictures of the…deceased.”
    “That’s the coroner’s job.”
    Laura looked around. “Where is he?”
    Mitch removed his hat and riffled through his hair. “This is a small community, a tourist town. He’s not available at the moment.”
    “Wow, I didn’t know Cole Harbor was a hot bed of crime.”
    One of the EMTs laughed, then sobered when Carter sent him a scathing scowl.
    When no one offered further explanation, Laura shrugged. “Whatever.” She walked to the bicycle, and quirked a smile over her shoulder. “Have a nice day, Deputy.”
    She spent the rest of the morning introducing herself to business owners, soliciting ads for the paper, and taking pictures of crafters setting up their tents, along with a flurry of other activities for the annual Fourth of July festivities.
    At three o’ clock, Mitch Carter walked into her office. His voice betrayed his aggravation. “Not that it matters, but after the coroner examined the body, I requested he send it to the medical examiner in Bangor for an autopsy.”
    Laura leaned back in her chair. She smiled with harsh amusement. “You always so abrupt? No ‘Good afternoon,’ or ‘How’s it going,’ just straight to the point…shoot from the hip?”
    Mitch drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Good afternoon, Miss Friday. How was your day? Mind if I sit down?”
    She extended a hand toward the chair. “Let me guess. You and your drawl come from Montana? Wyoming?”
    “Texas.”
    “Long ways from home. How did you end up here?”
    His discomfort with the question piqued her curiosity. He ignored the inquiry, and she chose not to goad him further.
    “My job history is none of your