“Great.” I held up the papers she’d given me. “Can I keep these?”
Marlene nodded. “That will be fifteen dollars.”
I slipped the three pieces of paper into the manila envelope in my bag, then pulled out my wallet.
I’d come this far. I wasn’t going to Sheriff Crowe with anything less than all the evidence.
44
AVERY
It wasa quick walk to the police department. I followed the walkway that led between the buildings and started up the path to the brick building where Sheriff Crowe worked.
Iris was probably sitting behind her desk at the library next door, completely unaware that her generous offer to use the library’s projector had set me on the path to unraveling the mystery that had kicked off my time in Blackwell Hollow.
And everything that had come with it.
The lobby inside the police department was quiet except for the sound of ringing phones coming from the offices behind the counter. A gangly man sat at one of the desks, his head bowed as he took notes in a notepad, a phone pressed to one ear.
“That’s correct, Mr. Fopple, we can’t do anything about the squirrels.” He paused, listening. “Yes, I’m sorry about the bird seed but I can’t really file a formal complaint… I understand. You too, Mr. Fopple.”
He put the phone down and I realized it was Deputy Pike, the sheriff’s deputy who had arrived at Aunt Evelyn’s first after I found Harold’s body.
“Oh… hi!” He jumped up nervously and his chair tipped back with a crash.
“Hi,” I said as he bent to pick it up, his thin sandy hair falling in his eyes.
He pushed the chair under the desk and adjusted his belt as he walked toward the counter. “How can I help you?”
“Um… is Sheriff Crowe in?”
“No, sorry, she’s in the field right now.”
My excitement vanished. Darn it. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”
He shook his head. “No, but I can give her a message when she gets back?”
I hesitated. I really didn’t want to leave the papers with anyone but Sheriff Crowe.
On the other hand, Ididpromise Beck I’d take them in right after I confirmed Harold’s initials.
“Okay,” I said. “Do you have a piece of paper so I can leave her a note?”
“Sure thing.” He walked to the printer against one wall and pulled a piece of paper out of the tray, then picked up a pen from one of the desks on his way back to the counter. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
I hesitated over the paper, trying to gather my thoughts, then started writing. When I was done, I removed the manila envelope with the transparent slides and the town records from my bag, slipped the paper into the envelope, sealed it, and wroteSheriff Croweon the front.
“Only give it to her, okay? Right when she gets back?”
He took it from my hand. “Uh… sure thing.”
I exhaled and headed for the doors, planning to head back to the bakery. But as I walked through the square, the last piece of the puzzle nagged at my stomach.
I wasprettysure I knew what was going on, and I’d told Sheriff Crowe as much in my note.
But it would only take a half hour to beabsolutelysure, and after a whole week of thinking about who had killed Harold Pembroke, it wasn’t as easy to let go of the mystery as I’d expected.