converted it to a hotel.”
“It’s beautiful.” Sam shielded the sun from her eyes as she inspected the building.
“My main competition,” Alyss said. “They have eighteen rooms. I have four.”
“I’d bet yours are better though,” Sam said. “Besides, yours come with peace and solitude. And you.”
Alyss laughed.
“And down comforters and fresh muffins,” Sam continued.
They veered off Main Street long enough for Alyss to show Sam the hundred-year-old stone church with its soaring white steeple and gold cross. “It’s plated with real gold,” Alyss said.
“You’re kidding?”
“Apparently, they had more gold around here than they knew what to do with.” Alyss turned and looked back toward the Begley Hotel a block away. “The miners that visited Belle’s girls usually paid in nuggets and dust. That’s all they had, I guess. Anyway, Belle donated the gold for the cross.”
“Buying salvation?” Sam said.
“Or trying to keep the local powers out of her hair.”
Sam turned back to the church. The church’s property covered an entire block, set off from the sidewalk by a black wrought iron fence topped with ornate spikes. The grounds were park like, with manicured lawns and stately spruce trees. Reverend Blaine’s modest white, frame home sat only a few yards from the church’s rear door. Beyond lay the cemetery, a garden of flowers, shrubs, and headstones. Soon to be Lloyd Varney’s final resting place.
They continued their stroll, circling the church’s property. As they neared where they had started, Sam asked, “What’s the story on Chief Wade?”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s he like? An OK guy?”
“Seems to be. He’s been Police Chief for over 20 years, I understand. The town must like him.” Alyss stopped and looked at her. “Why are you asking?”
“Just curious.”
“Come on, Sam,” Alyss said. “It’s me. I know all about you and curiosity.”
Sam laughed. “I just feel uncomfortable. As far as I can tell, he’s basing his suspect list of one on what I saw and the size of a missing pair of boots.”
“Shouldn’t he?”
“Eye witnesses are always unreliable. Even cops. Even me. I told him I didn’t really see the man. And a pair of eighty dollar boots doesn’t make a great motive for murder.”
“But, you haven’t met Billy,” Alyss said. “He fits the part.”
As she walked, Sam brushed her hand along the wrought iron fence pickets, then stopped and grasped one of the ornate fence spikes in each fist. She gazed across the cemetery. “You mean like...if the shoe fits...”
“Something like that.”
But, did it all fit? Was Billy Bear the killer? Sam didn’t know what to believe. Not yet. She didn’t know this town or its people or Wade or Billy Bear Wingo. She just didn’t want her eyewitness account, such as it was, to implicate the wrong person.
Alyss laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know it wouldn’t do any good for me to remind you that you’re on vacation and that this isn’t your concern.”
“I know.”
“The truth,” Alyss continued, “is that I’m scared.” Sam started to say something but Alyss raised a hand to stop her. “The entire town is. I could feel it. And with Shelby here...” She looked at Sam. “I don’t know how good or dedicated or anything Wade is, but I know you.”
Sam couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “I never thought I’d see this day. You’re actually encouraging me?”
Alyss shrugged. “I know you’ll find the truth whatever it takes.”
Sam let go of the fence spikes. “Wade might not like me snooping around?”
“Since when did that ever stop you?”
They locked arms and continued their walk.
Returning to Main Street, they passed several cluttered antique stores, Mark’s Pharmacy and it’s fifties style soda counter, and Tankersly's Pool Hall, the local “den of iniquity,” according to Alyss. Finally, after collecting Shelby from the music store where she had found
“It’s beautiful.” Sam shielded the sun from her eyes as she inspected the building.
“My main competition,” Alyss said. “They have eighteen rooms. I have four.”
“I’d bet yours are better though,” Sam said. “Besides, yours come with peace and solitude. And you.”
Alyss laughed.
“And down comforters and fresh muffins,” Sam continued.
They veered off Main Street long enough for Alyss to show Sam the hundred-year-old stone church with its soaring white steeple and gold cross. “It’s plated with real gold,” Alyss said.
“You’re kidding?”
“Apparently, they had more gold around here than they knew what to do with.” Alyss turned and looked back toward the Begley Hotel a block away. “The miners that visited Belle’s girls usually paid in nuggets and dust. That’s all they had, I guess. Anyway, Belle donated the gold for the cross.”
“Buying salvation?” Sam said.
“Or trying to keep the local powers out of her hair.”
Sam turned back to the church. The church’s property covered an entire block, set off from the sidewalk by a black wrought iron fence topped with ornate spikes. The grounds were park like, with manicured lawns and stately spruce trees. Reverend Blaine’s modest white, frame home sat only a few yards from the church’s rear door. Beyond lay the cemetery, a garden of flowers, shrubs, and headstones. Soon to be Lloyd Varney’s final resting place.
They continued their stroll, circling the church’s property. As they neared where they had started, Sam asked, “What’s the story on Chief Wade?”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s he like? An OK guy?”
“Seems to be. He’s been Police Chief for over 20 years, I understand. The town must like him.” Alyss stopped and looked at her. “Why are you asking?”
“Just curious.”
“Come on, Sam,” Alyss said. “It’s me. I know all about you and curiosity.”
Sam laughed. “I just feel uncomfortable. As far as I can tell, he’s basing his suspect list of one on what I saw and the size of a missing pair of boots.”
“Shouldn’t he?”
“Eye witnesses are always unreliable. Even cops. Even me. I told him I didn’t really see the man. And a pair of eighty dollar boots doesn’t make a great motive for murder.”
“But, you haven’t met Billy,” Alyss said. “He fits the part.”
As she walked, Sam brushed her hand along the wrought iron fence pickets, then stopped and grasped one of the ornate fence spikes in each fist. She gazed across the cemetery. “You mean like...if the shoe fits...”
“Something like that.”
But, did it all fit? Was Billy Bear the killer? Sam didn’t know what to believe. Not yet. She didn’t know this town or its people or Wade or Billy Bear Wingo. She just didn’t want her eyewitness account, such as it was, to implicate the wrong person.
Alyss laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know it wouldn’t do any good for me to remind you that you’re on vacation and that this isn’t your concern.”
“I know.”
“The truth,” Alyss continued, “is that I’m scared.” Sam started to say something but Alyss raised a hand to stop her. “The entire town is. I could feel it. And with Shelby here...” She looked at Sam. “I don’t know how good or dedicated or anything Wade is, but I know you.”
Sam couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “I never thought I’d see this day. You’re actually encouraging me?”
Alyss shrugged. “I know you’ll find the truth whatever it takes.”
Sam let go of the fence spikes. “Wade might not like me snooping around?”
“Since when did that ever stop you?”
They locked arms and continued their walk.
Returning to Main Street, they passed several cluttered antique stores, Mark’s Pharmacy and it’s fifties style soda counter, and Tankersly's Pool Hall, the local “den of iniquity,” according to Alyss. Finally, after collecting Shelby from the music store where she had found
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