Strange Things Done Read Online Free Page B

eye.”
    “Omigod … Poor little fella.” Jo reached out to pet him. Marshall trembled suspiciously, flaring his nostrils. “What classroom?”
    Doug’s shoulders lifted, as though expecting something heavy to be placed there. “Didn’t I mention that?”
    “What?”
    “Well … everyone in Dawson kind of leads a double life. Has to, to make ends meet, in, uh, all honesty.” His mouth did something funny on the word “honesty,” as though he had trouble with the shape of it.
    Jo studied Doug’s face, the solemn creases of his forehead, feeling somewhat apprehensive about the direction the conversation was taking. Whatever detail he had omitted in their conversations about the position, Jo felt it hadn’t been an accidental oversight.
    “I teach school by day and run the paper by night. But it’s all good, right?” Doug brushed self-consciously at a smudge of chalk on the cuff of his cardigan.
    “Oh. I mean, the salary is not sizeable, but surely …?”
    “This is the first year the salary for this position has been supplemented by the KLA. That’s the Klondike Literary Association. Prior to that, the salary was based entirely on ad revenue, after the hard costs of running the paper were covered.”
    “I see,” Jo said. “But you didn’t wish to stay on, then? Now that there’s been a salary increase? I mean, you could have …”
    “No.” He said it firmly, as though trying to persuade himself. “I need to … I would like to be gone by freeze-up. I’m taking an early retirement.”
    Jo found herself wanting to ask how this was possible, but thought the question would come off as being too personal. “Well, what about the other staff? I mean, there are other names credited on your site. Why make an outside hire?” Jo was now genuinely alarmed by Doug’s revelations.
    “I contribute additional articles, when I can. You know, under pen names.”
    Jo stared at him. She had the sense that something in her universe had just subtly shifted. She had believed that the Daily was made up of a team of writers, and that she would be managing them. There were no other writers on staff. At all. Just Jo.
    “For this week, I can meet you here shortly after 3:30 every day, when school lets out. I’m just over at Robert Service Elementary on Third, next to the Westmark Inn.”
    “By the Snake Pit?”
    “Yes.”
    “Convenient.”
    Doug gave her a look to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t.
    “RSE is a great little school. Yellow clapboard building. You can’t miss it. Also houses the town library.” His eyes crinkled a little. “You can come by at recess if you need anything. I’ll give you a schedule.” Somewhere a heater clicked on, whining under the strain of its workload.
    Jo struggled to find a response that didn’t ring shrilly in accusation. The sound of the heater mocked her, imitating her own laborious mental machinations.
    “Try and get some good photos out there,” he said. “Of the body, I mean.”
    “I’m sure the RCMP will have the scene under some kind of lockdown by now. The place will be cordoned off. Forensic team, divers … you know.”
    “Hmm. Wouldn’t be too sure about that. Johnny’s only got four guys—mostly newbies doing time in Dawson until they can get enough experience under their belts to be transferred south.” He shrugged. “Anyway. I’d go with you, but …” He patted her lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll review your work every evening, just for this first week …”
    “I don’t need my work reviewed.”
    “… just to give you some suggestions. Pointers. We go to print on Fridays.”
    “But you are called the Dawson Daily ?”
    “We were daily—at the turn of the last century. Bit of a population decline after the Gold Rush. So … uh …” He fumbled with some paperwork on his desk. “Any questions?”
    Jo swallowed. Her mouth felt dry. “Have you got a map of town?”
    Doug pointed to a framed map on the wall behind her, drawn in black