The Yellow Packard Read Online Free PDF

something!”
    Janet couldn’t help but smile. Her aunt, the mystery reader, would have appreciated this ironic twist. She’d had hundreds of whodunits lining the shelves in her library, and few of those authors had scripted a perfect crime. Yet it seemed the final chapter of the old woman’s life ended with a crime that could not be solved and a murderer who would never see justice. Compounding it all was a car that no one would dare buy.
    Somewhere in the darkness she heard a neighbor’s clock chime. It was ten o’clock, time for her to step off the porch for a final time and head back to Becky Hammer’s home. Tomorrow afternoon she’d be on a bus bound for Carbondale with $75.04, a head full of memories, and a lot more questions than answers.
    Janet moved her gaze from the familiar porch to the street. There, almost completely hidden in the shadows, was a man. She felt his eyes on her even before she spotted him.
    “Who’s that?” she whispered.
    “I don’t see anyone,” Johns quietly answered.
    “Across the street, in front of the Balts’ house. His hat is pulled down, and he’s leaning against that elm tree. If you look closely, you’ll see him.”
    Johns stared out into the darkness finally spotting the object of Janet’s concern. “That’s Mitchell Burgess.”
    “I don’t recognize that name,” she replied. “But I saw him a few days ago staring at the house when we were in the library. He gives me the spooks.”
    “Don’t worry about him,” Johns quickly assured her. “He moved here a few years back from Missouri. Lives in one of the shotgun houses on the other side of the tracks. He did a lot of work for your aunt. Mowed her grass, tended her garden, that sort of thing. He’s probably just hanging around lamenting the fact he’s going to have to find another way to make ends meet. And we know that’s not easy during these tough times.”
    Johns waved and called out, “Hey, Mitchell, you all right?”
    “Yes sir,” came the reply. “Sure is a shame about Miss Watling.”
    “Yeah,” the attorney replied. “If you could use some work, why don’t you come by my office on Monday. I have some things I need done at my house.”
    Stepping from under the tree and into the glare of the street lamp, Burgess nodded. As he did, Janet sized him up. He was likely in his forties, barrel-chested, and average height. There was an apelike quality in the way he stood, his shoulders hunched forward, his hands hanging at his side. He wasn’t the kind of person she would want to meet on a city street at noon much less in the shadows of a lonely night. “I’ll do that,” he replied, “and by the way, do you think I could still do the gardening around here until they sell the place? I’d hate to see it go to seed.”
    “I’m handling the estate,” Johns informed him. “You just continue to do what you were doing, and I’ll pay you the same she did until we get the property sold.”
    “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
    “Let me give you a ride,” Johns said to Janet as Burgess ambled down Elm Street toward the tracks.
    Janet didn’t answer, her eyes never leaving Burgess. Though she had no logical reason, there was something about the man that bothered her.
    “You ready?” the attorney asked.
    “Yes,” she finally replied, suddenly glad not to be walking the five blocks to the Hammer’s.
    “And, Janet. Don’t worry about what Jed said about the Packard. The six months the dealership had the car they saw the best sales in their history. In fact your aunt even called the car her good luck charm. She loved it so much she said it was worth more than anything else in her life. That Packard had nothing to do with her death.”
    “I wasn’t worried,” Janet assured him. After standing and smoothing her skirt she added, “I know it wasn’t a car that caused her death or took her money. But I’d sure like to know who was responsible.”
    Getting out of the swing and moving toward the porch