Free The Scargill Cove Case Files by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

huh.
     
     
    So now I’m curious. Who was Hooker, and why did he suddenly sell up and leave town? Or did he do either?
     
     
    Looks like Hooker handled the sale privately. No real estate agent involved. Deed recorded properly. All taxes paid.

July 21
     
    Asked Fitch how he found out that Hooker wanted to sell the bookstore. Fitch said he drove through town one day. Bought a book.
     
     
    Fitch says he got to talking to Hooker, who said he was ready to move on. Fitch was retired and looking for something to do.
     
     
    Fitch says the idea of running a bookstore appealed to him so he and Hooker did a deal. Doesn’t know where Hooker went.
     
     
    Definitely bad energy in that store. Told Fitch I wanted to walk through the place, including the basement, soak up the vibes.
     
     
    Fitch says the basement is stacked wall to wall with old junk. Says he hasn’t had time to clean it out.
     
     
    Turns out the place used to be a bank. Old vault in the basement hidden behind a pile of crates. Fitch looks surprised. Maybe he is.
     
     
    Vault is locked. New, high-tech lock, not the original. What are the odds that we’re going to find out what happened to Hooker?

July 22
     
    Got a crypto-talent in from Oakland to open the vault. Hooker’s body’s inside. Not a pretty sight. Smell almost knocks us out.
     
     
    Scratch marks on the vault door. Looks like the guy tried to claw his way out. Probably went mad before he ran out of air.
     
     
    Local doc is the coroner and ME. Calls it natural causes. Guy goes into a vault, door slams shut, locking him inside. Accidents happen.
     
     
    Sure, accidents like this used to happen with old, abandoned refrigerators. But an old vault? In Scargill Cove? What are the odds?
     
     
    Hooker sold the shop to Fitch and left town. So what was he doing sneaking back into his old basement vault? Forget something?
     
     
    County sheriff agrees with the doc. Hooker died as the result of an accident. No evidence of foul play, no motive. Nothing.
     
     
    I told Fitch that the investigation was finished. He was right. Something bad did happen to Hooker. Case closed.
     
     
    Fitch asks me if I believe that Hooker’s death was an accident. I tell him no. I remind him this is Northern California. He gets it.
     
     
    Scargill Cove is in the heart of the Emerald Triangle. Marijuana country. Major cash crop. Lot of money involved.
     
     
    Combine an illegal substance with big profits and you get violence. Odds are good Hooker was in the drug business.
     
     
    If that theory is right, then Hooker may have been the loser in a quarrel with one of his business associates.
     
     
    But I can’t shake two questions about Hooker. Why did he come back after moving out of town? What did he keep in the vault?

July 24
     
    Illusion-talent decides to check in. Says he picked up the trail of the rogue. I hang up and think about the scratch marks in the vault.
     
     
    I shouldn’t care how and why Hooker died. Hardly knew the guy and he probably had it coming if he was in the marijuana trade. Still.
     
     
    It occurs to me that I need to do something about the Hooker murder because it happened here on my turf. This is my town.
     
     
    When did I develop a sense of civic responsibility? When did Scargill Cove become home? Weird feeling.
     
     
    If Hooker used the vault to store bundles of marijuana there should be some traces of the stuff.
     
     
    Got to go out for coffee, anyway, so might as well stop by Fitch’s shop and take another look at the vault. I grab a flashlight.
     
     
    Fitch seems glad to see me. We go downstairs and take a look around the vault. No visible residue of marijuana.
     
     
    I examine the scratches on the vault door. Random marks left by a dying man? I go hot and raise my psychic talent for a closer look.
     
     
    Within Arcane, there’s a formal name for my kind of paranormal vision: chaos theory–talent.
     
     
    There are other, informal, less polite terms for