Free A Luring Murder by Stacy Verdick Case

of such a contraption.
    I gave Louise the “ oh-come-on” look. She shrugged.
    This was the first time since we’d met that I’d seen the sheriff animated over something. He’s demeanor was lumber stiff, but discussing Digs’ baby, he was like other guys during the ninth inning of a tied World Series.
    Louise finally interrupted. “You remember how to get to the resort then?”
    “Yes.” Digs knew an end command when he heard one.
    Sheriff Anderson pushed himself up. A loud popping sound came from his right knee. He winced but didn’t complain. Obviously, a sound he was familiar with like I was with the crack in my neck.
    The gravel and rocks from the resorts dirt driveway kicked up and pinged off the sheet metal of the cruiser as we wound down through the little red cabins. People sat on their decks and waved to us as we passed. The sheriff waved and nodded at each of them as if he were on a parade float.
    Louise sat in the back seat behind Sheriff Anderson with her leg across the bench seat. She grinned at me. I knew she could see my annoyance increase with each wave.
    What was he; the dammed King of this place?
    Further up the road, we ran into a sight I hoped to never see again. Gavin in shorts, ankle socks, and sandals. Over one shoulder, he carried a fishing pole, in his other hand he had a stringer of fish, and at his heels a little white dog.
    Good Lord. I couldn’t believe he would go out in public looking like a fugitive refugee from a Norman Rockwell painting.
    He smiled and waved at the sheriff who waved at him like an idiot. Gavin approached my window and knocked on the glass. The white dog curled up at his feet.
    I pressed the button and my window slid away. Hot air flooded in like water through an open damn.
    “Ugh, I hate humidity,” I said. I could already feel my hair fizzing as my precious cool air-conditioned air oozed out toward Gavin.
    “You’re back,” he said. “Look what I caught.”
    He held up the stringer.
    “Those are beauties,” Sheriff said.
    The fish twitched and whapped their tails against each other.
    I pushed his hand away. Maybe it was my line of work, but I didn’t want to see the poor things suffer and die.
    “Where are you going with those things?”
    “Oh, I’m heading up to the Peterman’s. They set up a table in their garage since you guys closed off the fish house.”
    He gave a playful nudge with his elbow. I’d been wrong. He didn’t smell rugged, he just stank.
    “What are you doing with that menace?” I stabbed my finger toward the dog.
    He followed the line of my finger down to the pooch. “Oh, him. He’s been following me around most of the day. Must be someone’s dog. Cute little guy.”
    “Hmm, looks like a dirty mutt to me.”
    “He’s adorable, Catherine. You’re right though. He could use a bath.”
    “Hop in,” the sheriff said. “We’ll drive you the rest of the way. We’re heading up to the house now.”
    Louise pulled her leg off the seat and patted the passenger cushion.
    Was he serious? He wasn’t going to let all those stinky fish, not to mention my stinky husband, into the car was he?
    “Great.” Gavin eagerly climbed into the car.
    Louise to her credit didn’t even wrinkle her nose when he loaded in the stringer of wriggling fish.
    “Great,” I said with a little less enthusiasm and made a conscious effort to breathe through my mouth. If it worked for the smell of death, it should work on fish.
    The little white dog tried to follow Gavin into the back seat.
    “No! He stays here,” I said. We didn’t need to add dirty dog smell to the back seat brew.
    Gavin nudged the dog away from the threshold and closed the door.
    “Any idea who killed him?” Gavin asked.
    “Nope,” Sheriff Anderson croaked.
    “Nobody you’d call a real good lead,” Louise said.
    That was putting it mildly. We didn’t have anything except wild speculation from an over eager deputy.
    “So, Catherine you're done, right? You’re going