Murder Under the Covered Bridge Read Online Free PDF

Was their presence preventing the shooter from finishing off William, or was he waiting for them to bring the body up top so he could shoot him again? If so, would that make the rest of them dispensable? If he was waiting, she thought, he’d be disappointed, because they weren’t doing anything until after the emergency medical technicians got there and the sheriff’s department arrived.
    Marcy took the camera and rushed into the bridge. Francine and Charlotte did their best to keep up with her.
    But Francine couldn’t help glancing back at the cornfield. There was no wind to speak of this morning, and the rows of withered cornstalks stood upright and stationary. The trees and undergrowth lining the creek wound to the north as far as she could see, about a quarter of a mile away. She saw no one in that direction. The dampness of the still morning air hung on and Francine shivered. She needed her jacket. She needed to change clothes.
    Francine glanced Charlotte’s way. Her expression was somewhere between delight and excitement. Either she’s energized by the attempt on William’s life or she’s up to something. Or maybe it’s just that she’s always fascinated by mysteries.
    Francine linked arms with Charlotte to help her go faster. They had a lot to do to make things look as normal as possible before the ambulance arrived.

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    Joy untied the horse from the tree, brought it inside, and hooked it up to the carriage while Marcy instructed Francine and Charlotte in packing up the equipment.
    â€œWhat are we going to do about this light that got trashed by the rifle shot?” Charlotte asked. “I can get it back in the case, but it’s in pieces.”
    Joy mounted the coach driver’s seat. “The station’s not going to be happy about that light stand.”
    â€œI guess that’s the price of getting this story,” Charlotte said.
    â€œNot much of a story if I don’t record it. Remember to keep out the video camera for me.” She coaxed the horse and pulled the carriage out of the bridge.
    The women finished dragging the equipment to one side of the bridge just before the fire truck arrived from Rockville. They’d hoped to give the vehicle room to edge past them, but the truck was either too heavy or too big to use the narrow bridge. The driver parked it on CR 350W, which would have blocked traffic had there had been any that time of the day.
    A nimble fireman ran across the bridge with a radio. The women pointed out William and Jonathan. He radioed back once he assessed the situation, and soon two men from the fire truck joined him. They carried rope bags and wore life jackets with a metal loop on the back. Francine watched as they threaded a rope through the loop and tethered themselves to a sturdy sycamore on top of the bank. They made their way down carrying a backboard.
    A brown sheriff’s car came screaming up from the south. He dodged the fire truck and pulled in front of the bridge, blocking access to it. He got out of the car and rushed across. Once the fresh-faced deputy saw the firemen rescuing the victim, he turned to the women, who were with Joy and the horse near the creek bank. He looked at Francine. She was now back in her raincoat covering the costume. “What’s with the horse and carriage?”
    â€œI’ll give you the shortened version,” she said. “It’s a photo shoot.” She hoped it was the only time she’d have to give an account for this, but she wasn’t optimistic.
    He seemed satisfied with her explanation. He pointed to Charlotte, who was waving her hand like she knew the answer to the difficult problem in a classroom. “You. Let’s step away from the others and you can tell me what happened.”
    Despite his instructions, they all began to talk at once again. He held up a hand. “Only her,” and he motioned Charlotte to come to him.
    Together they stepped