Shadow Notes by Laurel Peterson (my miracle luna book free read .TXT) 📕

up. She leaned forward to press home her point, the paper crackling as she crushed it. “Andrew Winters is a wicked man who must never be elected into any position where he has to put the interests of others before himself.” She closed the paper and slapped it on the table. “Take a look at that,” she said, “for examples of leaders who wrong their people. There are a lot of them, but plenty know how to do the right thing, or at least have integrity and their hearts in the right place, even if their decisions aren’t perfect.” She stood and picked up her cup. “I don’t know what Mary Ellen thinks I would possibly ever do for her or her brother, but you can tell her that she needs to ask me herself.”

She stalked from the kitchen before I could tell her Mary Ellen already knew that.

Chapter 16

I should have told Chief DuPont that Mary Ellen threatened me, but I thought I knew what he’d say. Instead, I decided to talk things over with Bailey, thinking her analytical lawyer brain might help me. I persuaded her to meet me after work over drinks. Large drinks. So much for abstinence and resolutions.

At least the alcohol was keeping the dreams away—not a good trade-off—but I needed the sleep. So badly, I needed the sleep. The slug had transformed into daytime hallucinations, which was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. This afternoon at the office, I thought I saw my father standing there shaking his head at me. I blinked, and he was gone. My heart had started to pound. Had his expression been accusatory? What was I missing? What else should I do?

At about seven, after finishing up some projects at the campaign and putting a large check in the mail to the Democratic candidate, I walked to The Peak where Bailey waited at the bar. She signaled the bartender as I walked in, and, by the time I had unwrapped myself from my coat and scarf, a martini sat coyly at my place. Bailey was halfway through hers.

She leaned over and pecked my cheek. “What’s up, sistah? You look glum.”

I took a long drink from my glass. “You have no idea.” I filled her in on Hetty’s cottage as well as Mary Ellen and the killer horse ride. I was well into my second martini by the time I finished.

“I guess we’d better get some dinner. This is going to be a long talk.” She signaled the bartender and we wound our way to a booth. She ordered a bottle of Tempranillo and a plate of fried calamari. “Hetty, a stalker? I suppose I could find out if any of the people she photographed have reported her. You’d think Pete Samuels, with all his cop radar, would notice someone lurking around taking pictures of him. Why didn’t you just ask Kyle when you reported Mary Ellen? You know the man has the hots for you.”

“I, uh…” A wave of guilt swept over me.

“You didn’t report Mary Ellen? Are you crazy?”

“Kyle already gave me a lecture about breaking into Hetty’s place. Plus, I can’t believe Mary Ellen meant it. A murder threat would wreck her brother’s campaign. Besides, she didn’t say she tried to kill me this morning, only that if Mother didn’t cooperate, she would next time. The chief would only berate me for going on the ride in the first place—and don’t you start on me, too. Please. Everyone has told me to stay away from the Winters.”

“Why bother listening to the people who care about you? You won’t be in town long enough for a relationship anyway.” She tossed it out with a little side glance, a fishing line with a baited hook the size of Cincinnati.

“I don’t know yet whether I’m staying, but I’ve missed you, and I’m going to do my part to keep our friendship going this time.”

She shook her head, dragging a loop of calamari through red sauce.

How did you persuade a person you meant what you said? Only action and time would do that job, and sometimes, even those weren’t enough.

“How will finding out about wrong-doing in the Winters campaign clear your mother of Hugh’s murder? That’s your goal, right?”

“I came home because Mother was in danger. She keeps telling me to stay away from the Winters, ergo, to use lawyer-speak, I think they are connected. However, I have zero proof of anything fishy, only some strange notations in a couple of files. Maria pointed me toward Hetty. My theory, after seeing her photographs, is that Hetty had a crush on Hugh, which Hugh didn’t return, and she killed him in a jealous rage.”

She said, “That would fit with one theory, that it was a crime of passion, something to do with all Hugh’s sexual affairs.”

“But Hetty also photographed Mary Ellen, me, and Pete Samuels. If it’s about crimes of passion, well, it’s not like I’m having an affair with Hetty, and I can’t imagine Pete or Mary Ellen having one either. Hugh and I are connected because the photos on Hetty’s wall were the same as the voodoo doll photos. But what’s the connection between the dolls and Hugh’s murder? Did she leave the dolls or did someone else, like maybe Balaclava Guy? Did Balaclava Guy kill Hugh? Why would he do that? Why are he and Hetty partners? And if Hugh was a target, does that mean that Mary Ellen, Pete and I are too?” I paused to swipe the last calamari.

Bailey said, “Balaclava Guy and Mary Ellen both seem to have you in their sights, so maybe that question has already been answered, Clara.”

I wiped my greasy fingers on a napkin. “Then there’s the question of why Balaclava Guy warned me off my mother’s past. What doesn’t he want me to find? What does her past have to do with any of this and why won’t she tell me about it?” I was babbling. I stopped.

The