Murder on the Last Frontier Read Online Free PDF Page A

shaking her head. She was dressed in a modest skirt and blouse, her coat hem falling past her hips. Sturdy boots covered her feet, very unlike the shoes she’d worn last night. “No, thanks. I just wondered if you’d do me a small favor. I know we’ve just met and all, and you have no cause to, but it’s not for me.”
    The girl—for in the light of day and with her face unpainted, she seemed hardly more than that—wrung her hands together. Worry lined her smooth brow.
    â€œIt’s your friend, Darcy, isn’t it?” Charlotte surmised. “Has she gotten worse?”
    The waiter pushed through the doors. “Hey, Marie. You having a bite?”
    She waved him off. “Not today, Henry. I’m just talking to Miss Brody for a second.” Henry shrugged and returned to the kitchen. “Please,” Marie said to Charlotte, “could you ask your brother to come today? Darcy was barely able to get up this morning, she was so sick. Brigit’s madder than a wet hen at being short a girl, especially on weekends.”
    Charlotte was no doctor, but whatever was ailing the poor girl sounded serious. Why was Michael reluctant to check on her? “I’m going to see him shortly and will make sure he goes. I’ll drag him there myself if I have to.”
    Marie clutched Charlotte’s sleeve, her relief clear. “Oh, thank you so much, Miss Brody. I’m obliged.”
    â€œHappy to help, and please, call me Charlotte.”
    The girl’s face broke into a smile, making her look even younger. “Charlotte. I have to get back to my errands. Thank you.”
    She darted back out to join the other woman who had stayed on the walk.
    Henry came out of the kitchen again, carrying two bowls of soup. He served the couple, then came over to Charlotte. “Refill, miss? They’re free.”
    Charlotte finished her coffee, then slid the cup and saucer away. “No, thank you.”
    She dug a dime and a nickel out of her purse and laid them beside the dishware.
    Henry’s eyes widened. “That’s way too much, miss. Coffee’s only a dime.”
    She stood, smiling at him. “The coffee was quite good, and the service impeccable. Thank you, Henry.”
    The boy’s cheeks pinked. “Thank you, Miss Brody.”
    Charlotte left the café, sure she’d be able to talk to Henry about real life on the frontier and the people who inhabited it. Finding sources of information was hard enough, but being new in town meant she’d need all the help she could get. People tended to talk around servers and those in similar humble positions, forgetting they had ears. And mouths.
    A salt-and-coal-tinged breeze blew in from the south, accompanied by the rumble of a steam engine. The black trail of smoke puffed westward, toward the docks. She caught a glimpse of freight cars between the buildings and through the trees, carrying ore from the copper mines far north of Cordova. The train carried passengers as well, and Charlotte made a mental note to book passage to view the glaciers along the route.
    She turned east, toward Michael’s home and office. There was his sign, M ICHAEL C. B RODY , MD, at the end of the street across from the three-story federal building that held the post office and the U.S. marshal’s office. Charlotte wondered if Deputy Eddington was inside. Remembering the rude awakening that morning, she felt heat rise on her cheeks. She hoped the deputy would forget seeing her in only a cotton nightgown during that introduction.
    Charlotte climbed the stone step to Michael’s front door. A window on the right showed a narrow view of his office through floral curtains; the one on the left was covered by a heavy shutter. She opened the door and stepped inside. A battered desk and bookshelves were tucked into the far right corner along with a plain wooden chair. Two more chairs sat on the opposite side of the desk. Cabinets