The Season of Killing by Leigh Mayberry (top romance novels .TXT) 📕

“I think someone dressed her. Her braided hair was inside the collar of the shirt. There’s another shirt underneath the sweatshirt.” He looked at Meghan. “You don’t wear your hair tucked into your collar in the house, do you?”

“Not even when I get out of the shower,” she said. I understand tucking the hair inside a coat traveling from here to somewhere else on a snowmobile or four-wheeler. But I agree with you. Good catch.”

“Look at this,” Eric said. He carefully, delicately parted the scalp hair exposing a silver dollar sized bruise hidden in the hairline, a significant sign of blunt force trauma. He got closer to the wound, more intimate than what Meghan was comfortable seeing. Inquisitive nature and necessity made great medical examiners. “I’d say it has the diameter of a carpenter’s hammer.”

“Her slipper is in the bedroom. There’s blood on the floor.”

Meghan stood up. She knew before they arrived, something happened to Hilma. Freddie’s pictures showed the body on the floor. It was enough for him to contact Lester.

“What do we think happened?” Megan asked. It looked basic and was a little disorganized. It troubled her greatly because someone took a life for no other reason than Hilma was in the way of something.

“She was killed in the bedroom,” Lester said.

They followed him back through the hallway, and Meghan saw the bloodstained carpet and the fuzzy slipper. Meghan got on her knees to look under the bed. Other than a wadded facial tissue, under the bed was clear.

“The blanket is from the bed. They took her into the living room.”

“They?” Meghan asked. She gave another look around, thinking she missed a clue that had more than one culprit.

Lester shrugged. “Figure of speech,” he said.

“We’re a little out of our element here.”

“We can get a call out if we need to get a hold of the troopers,” Lester said.

“Eric needs to get the body back to Anchorage. Why are you shaking your head?” she asked.

“Barbara’s not going to let you take her mother out of Noorvik,” Lester said. “She’ll have everyone on her side.”

Meghan gave Lester a long hard look. “I’m really sick of not doing our jobs because we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“You can say that. But I’ve been here for a long time. Noorvik takes care of its own. And we’re home, not nowhere.”

Meghan immediately realized she’d mistaken her overtiredness for feeling overwhelmed. The indigenous people of Alaska could live anywhere in the world. It takes spirit and choice to live out here. Meghan had no right to say something that bordered on derogatory.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I feel as if we’re stifled in our investigation before it’s even started.”

“You’re testy,” Lester said.

“Yeah, I know. I’m tired, and I didn’t expect to spend the whole day on the back of a snowmobile—I see that look—that’s what I call them. Sorry. Look, you must have the same feeling as I do. Freddie knew this looked wrong. That’s why he sent you the pictures and didn’t tell Barbara first.”

“We’re lucky the house didn’t burn down,” Eric said.

The bedroom had a subtle cinnamon scent from the outlet air freshener. It was orderly with rustic appeal. Hilma had a single bed, which gave the bedroom more openness. The closet door was closed; the dresser was orderly. Nothing looked disturbed. Meghan examined the prescription pill bottles on the nightstand. Sodium pills, thyroid hormone pills; both bottles had medicine inside.

“No air in this place until Freddie came by,” Lester said. “The house has moisture built up on the windowsills.” He pulled back the curtains from the bedroom window. A block of ice layered the window frame, built up from interior humidity, meeting the arctic chill that pressed the glass. “The house can’t breathe. It’s a design flaw, probably when they put on the roof. The heating system is stove oil. I think if Hilma wasn’t murdered, she’d eventually die of carbon monoxide poisoning.”

Meghan agreed. A pink body was better than a burnt corpse if she had a choice. Neither alternative helped Hilma. She looked from Lester to Eric. He seemed moderately excited. Considering the facts, his restrained keenness had more respect for the dead.

“You can deputize me, and I can help work the case,” he said.

“I’m not a sheriff, Eric. You’re a coroner and already licensed with the state. I don’t have to deputize you for your help. Make sure you bill the state and not Kinguyakkii for this case.”

As soon as she said it, Meghan whispered a curse word. The budget meetings all week began to rub off. She had to solve a murder case but worry about how much it cost at the same time. Meghan knew whatever happened, no matter how long it took or how far away she had to go, she’d do it; to hell with budgets when someone took a life.

Meghan left the bedroom with Eric and Lester following. They heard the front door open, the air current changed in the house. Barbara and Freddie waited in the kitchen. Meghan didn’t like the sound of her big boots scuffing the floor. But she was too tired to lift her feet higher. It made her feel like a clod.

Barbara leaned against the counter with the sink at her back. Freddie stood opposite of her, waiting patiently. Another city employee, he had a responsibility without the oath Lester, Eric, and Meghan took. Freddie didn’t need the affirmation to perform the duties. It was apparent he cared for the town and all its residents.

“Do you have somewhere else to stay while you’re here?” Meghan asked.

“I can stay with my friend Linda.”

“Linda Franks?” Freddie asked. “I know her.”

Barbara sniffled. “Did someone kill Mama?”

Meghan swallowed before answering. The involuntary gesture was enough to tell Barbara what she already knew to be true.

“We need to