Free The Murder in Skoghall (Illustrated) (The Skoghall Mystery Series Book 1) by Alida Winternheimer

Tyler’s hands and started them walking toward the shed again. He glanced into the tangle of machinery more than once as though he was looking for the chainsaw wielding psychopaths. Jess decided he had creeped himself out, too.
    The shed had a large hinged door on the front that swung open with a creak. Tyler found the light switch and flipped it. Several of the ceiling bulbs were burnt out. There were all kinds of things stacked one on top of another, and if there had ever been an organization scheme, it was long since abandoned. 
    “Damn,” Tyler breathed. “This is crazy.”
    “I know. Isn’t it great?” Jess gripped Tyler’s shoulder with excitement. “I just know there’s treasure buried in here. I bet that old man doesn’t even know what he has.”
    “I doubt anyone’s been in here for a few years. Look at the dust on everything.”
    “Yeah, we’ll have to neti after this for sure.”
    “Neti?”
    “Run water through our nostrils to wash out all the dirt.” Jess moved into the shed, picking her way through crates stuffed with magazines and newspapers.
    “You’re kidding, right?”
    She chuckled. “I can show you how.” Jess made her way down a narrow aisle, heading for the heart of the shed. A blade on a rusted hand tiller caught at her pant leg as she squeezed by. She’d have to be careful or she’d be getting a tetanus shot this afternoon. A rustling startled Jess and she looked up as she ducked. Two barn swallows swooped low, then circled, their forked tails closing and opening as they banked inside the shed before buzzing Tyler on their way out the door.
    “Shit!” He ducked as they shot past his head. As he straightened up again, he took a hand away from his hip pocket slowly, then made a fist and shook it out. He pushed his hands through his hair, momentarily exposing the scar.
    “You okay?”
    “Sure. I just don’t like to be startled.”
    Jess nodded, a little surprised someone who grew up in the country was so rattled by a couple of swallows. She turned her gaze back to the ceiling. The birds had done her a favor, calling her attention overhead. A pair of rocking chairs hung upside down, strapped to the rafters with bungee cords. They appeared in excellent condition. “Tyler!” she shouted.
    He flinched. “I said I don’t like to be startled.”
    “I’m sorry. Look.” She pointed at the rockers. “I found the first treasure.”
    Tyler picked his way through the narrow aisle to where Jess stood and looked. “Those swallows are going to be pissed.”
    “Why?”
    He pointed into a shadow between the two chairs. “That’s their nest.”
    They found a ladder leaning against the wall behind a cart full of old toasting racks, waffle irons, and a blender. It took them ten minutes to clear a path to the ladder, but Jess remained determined. She held the ladder while Tyler climbed. First, he removed the nest and handed it down. Jess looked inside—no eggs—and set it gently atop a stack of old Sears catalogues. Tyler freed one chair and held it overhead as he backed down the ladder, giving Jess the opportunity to admire his flexed shoulders and biceps. There wasn’t enough room to set the chair down, so he carried it all the way outside, then came back for the second one.
    Jess examined the chairs. Oak, medium stain, slatted back and solid seats. She sat in one and rocked it, wiggled a little to make sure it felt right. They were perfect. She beamed at Tyler, but he did not look very pleased for her. Maybe he was still agitated by the swallows. “I’m sure there’s more in there,” she said.
    I think I’ll wait outside. Get some air.”
    “All right.” Maybe later she would ask what had happened in that shed. She turned back inside and adjusted the ladder so it was under a rafter. She balanced the swallows’ nest in one hand and held the ladder as she climbed up with the other. She put the nest on the rafter, then slid it back toward a joist where it might be supported.