A Murder In Passing Read Online Free

arrogance tripped them up. To Overcash’s credit, he’d stepped back and put the case first.
    Two Greenville County deputies had examined the log. They agreed the victim probably came from the North Carolina side and, given the uncertainty of the state line, the three deputies decided the initial phase would be a joint investigation until their respective sheriffs worked out a more official approach. Meanwhile, the forensic team was coming from South Carolina.
    I’d given my statement, left contact information with both law enforcement agencies, and wished them good luck. The case was colder than a glacier in the last Ice Age.
    Nakayla patted my thigh. “I knew we were in trouble as soon as you asked Overcash if he had gloves.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean we’ve gone four miles and you haven’t said a word. You’re driving on autopilot and your mind’s back at the log.” She laughed. “Remember, curiosity killed the cat.”
    â€œI know. I couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t concerned about the cat. I wanted to know what killed our new friend Mr. Bones.”
    â€œSo, what do you think about the bullet?”
    I shrugged. “Looked like it hit a rib or clavicle. Probably soft-point. A hollow-point would have been more mangled. I’d say it was from a thirty-thirty or thirty-aught-six.”
    â€œDeer rifle?”
    â€œMost likely. The lab might get some rifling marks if the slug’s not too damaged. But, unless the gun was used in another crime, there won’t be any ballistics record.”
    â€œIt comes down to identifying the victim.”
    I thought about Ed Bell’s history of the lightning-damaged tree. “Yeah. Both departments should search through missing person reports from 1954 to the last year the Medical Examiner estimates the body had to begin decomposition in order to reach its present skeletal state.”
    â€œYou ever work a case like this in the army?”
    â€œNot really. I was present when we uncovered some of the mass graves of Saddam Hussein’s victims. There was nothing for me to solve.”
    Neither Nakayla nor I spoke for a few minutes. She must have been thinking how the shock of finding one skeleton compared to viewing hundreds of bones from men, women, and children slaughtered by a ruthless tyrant.
    I tried to lighten the mood. “So, other than falling face first into human remains, I’d say I did quite well as a mushroom hunter.”
    â€œYou certainly made an impression on the rest of the club.”
    I took my right hand off the wheel and returned the pat on her thigh. “Did you expect anything less, partner?”
    â€œI wish I could say yes, but I’d be lying.” She squeezed my hand. “You wish you were working the case, don’t you?”
    â€œI wish I could say no, but I’d be lying.”
    â€œMaybe Deputy Overcash will hire us as consultants.”
    â€œAnd maybe Duke and Carolina fans will join hands and sing Kumbaya at their next basketball game.”
    â€œStranger things have happened.”
    I took my eyes of the road and stared at her. “Oh, yeah? Name one.”
    She scowled. “Okay. Maybe the Carolina-Duke Kumbaya comes right after we’re asked to investigate Mr. Bones.”
    I turned my attention back to the highway. “Take my word for it, neither one will ever happen.”

Chapter Three
    The Blackman and Robertson Detective Agency occupied an office suite in the Addison Court building three stories above Asheville’s historic Pack Square. We had no employees. What with cellphones and sophisticated answering and call-forwarding services, we could work efficiently and effectively in and out of the office. So, with business slow, I’d gotten into the habit of drifting into the office whenever I felt like it.
    I’d begun volunteering at the V.A. hospital several hours a week, and some mornings I dropped by