Touch-Me-Not Read Online Free Page B

drive safely.”
    Back at Watts Electrical Supply, Sergeant Smalley relaxed, drink in hand. He chatted about local politics, state politics, national politics, baseball, fishing. LeRoy, half-seated on the stool, half-listening, set his feet on the floor and jammed his fists into his pockets, his drink untouched.
    At last, Smalley got up, pushed the chair back to Maureen’s desk, put his hat back on, and adjusted his belt. “Thanks, Roy. Nice pick-me-up. Don’t work too late. Sure you don’t want me to fix that broken key? I’ve had some experience along those lines. Won’t take me a minute.” A nod toward the supply closet.
    LeRoy suppressed a shudder. “Thanks. I’m all set.”
    “Good night, then.”
    “Night.” LeRoy locked the door behind Smalley, and reached for another paper towel.
    He turned out the lights again in the front of the shop and went to work on the broken key, trying to extract it with the needle-nose pliers. At last he got the broken-off part out, but the door was still locked.
    “Hell. Damnation,” muttered LeRoy. He fished through the toolbox and found a paint scraper, slid it through the crack in the door until he came to the latch, and, suddenly, the door opened, releasing the full aroma of Jerry Sparks, several hours riper than it had been at five o’clock this afternoon.
    Where the hell could he take the body? Where, where? LeRoy thought of State Beach, but after a mild day like today, people might be out for an evening stroll, even though the night had turned chilly. Maybe take Sparks to a beach up-Island. There were still remote places there.
    Then he remembered the book shed at the West Tisbury Library, where his wife was a library trustee. Volunteers stored used books there for the summer book sale. He’d installed electricity in the shed last fall, done it for the cost of materials because of Sarah. Perfect spot. No one would question his being there. The shed was about the size of a small garage, with not much in it but cardboard boxes of books. It would look as though Sparks had sheltered there and died of an overdose.
    Jerry Sparks dead. LeRoy couldn’t get his mind around the concept.
    He hoisted the body onto his shoulder and carried it out to the van, opened the back door with one hand, and gently laid the body on the mat.
    “Hey, Mr. Watts!”
    LeRoy slammed the van door and spun around. One of the older kids from the baseball team had come around to the back of the shop.
    “Yeah?” said LeRoy. “What are you doing up so late?”
    “It’s not so late. One of the twins left his coat at the field. My mom picked me up after the game and we were driving by and saw your light. She told me to bring the coat to you.”
    “Thanks,” said LeRoy. “Thanks a lot. Looks like Zeke’s coat all right. Thanks.”
    “My mom had to go to a meeting and said maybe you’d give me a ride home.”
    LeRoy took a deep breath. “Sure. Sure, I’ll take you home. You’re Henry, right?”
    “No, sir. Hugo. Hugo A. Blinckmann.”
    “Sure. Sure, Hugo. Hop in.”
    “I’ll get in back,” said Hugo. “I like riding in back.” He reached for the handle of the back door.
    “No! Stay away!” shouted LeRoy.
    Hugo turned in astonishment.
    “Sorry, Hugo. Didn’t mean to be so sharp. No seat belt back there. Get in front. The front seat.” The kid wouldn’t be able to see into the back, would he? LeRoy wiped his eyes. He started the engine and Hugo climbed in. The boy wrinkled his nose and leaned around the seat toward the back of the van.
    “Hey,” said LeRoy, pointing out of the windshield. “That cat has something in its mouth.”
    “Where?” asked Hugo, turning back to the front and sitting forward. “I don’t see it.”
    “It moved fast. Keep an eye out. We might see a deer.”
    From then on, Hugo was eyes front. LeRoy followed Circuit Avenue to the end, kept going until he came to Barnes Road, where Hugo lived, and dropped the kid off. “Thanks for bringing Zeke’s