Summer Reading is Killing Me

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Deputy Mark Thompson pulled up in his cruiser ten minutes later. I’d known him my whole life. He retired from our small sheriff’s department a few years ago but discovered retirement bored him silly. His wife, Sally, didn’t want him underfoot driving her crazy, so he went back to work part-time which made everyone happy. A sleepy town most the year, the crime spiked when people rented cabins by the lake for the summer. Most calls involved overturned and damaged trash cans from the local wildlife with an occasional domestic dispute thrown into the mix.

“ Morning, Phee. Guess you found yourself a body. Tina says you think it’s a crime scene.” Mark took a sip from the Nellie Jo’s Joe-to-Go cup in his hand. I would kill for a cup of coffee right now. Some people ate comfort food. I drank comfort caffeine.

“ She’s underneath that large oak tree.” I pointed. “Mark, somebody stabbed her in the chest with a paintbrush. It’s awful.” I shuddered in spite of the morning’s warmth. I led Mark over to the body.

“ Did you touch anything?” Mark asked. He squatted next to the girl. His eyes combed the ground looking for evidence.

“ No, I didn’t.” I shook my head. “Watson found her and tugged on her pants leg. I got close enough to grab him, but I was careful.”

“ You recognize her?” Mark stood up and walked around the body, his brown eyes cataloging the canvas and paint on the ground.

I examined her face. If it weren’t for the ghastly gray pallor of death, she would have been beautiful. It was a face someone would remember. “No, I’ve never seen her. There’s a women’s art retreat at the lake this year. She might be one of the artists.”

“ I need to cordon off the area and call Sheriff Dawes. He won’t be happy. I wouldn’t want to be in his boots when he tells Mayor James to cancel today’s event,” Mark said. “Do me a favor, Phee. Stay by the body while I go back to the cruiser to get crime scene tape and my kit. This area should be secured before folks show up for Founder’s Day and trample any evidence.”

“ I’ll guard it with my life,” I promised. Mark loped across the grass to his vehicle. Who stabbed somebody with a paintbrush? An angry art critic? I inspected the body and noticed one finger covered with blue paint. I walked around and looked closer at the canvas lying on the damp grass. The painting was an unfinished landscape with a large s***h of blue the same shade as the paint on her finger. I moved closer. Was that a letter? I couldn’t tell because of the smearing of the paint, but it resembled a cross. Was this a message from the victim? I pulled my phone out of my pants and snapped a few photos of the painting before Mark returned.