Free High Stakes, a Hetty Fox Short: a Hetty Fox Short Story (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 3) by Anna Drake Page B

wouldn’t think me a trespasser and call the police. But squaring my shoulders and remembering Hugh’s distress over his missing gerbil, I carried on.
    This lot was heavily planted. There were all kinds of wonderful hiding places here for any tiny thing. I almost wished I were a gerbil myself. Running around in this yard on such a glorious day and leading my owner’s family on a merry chase might be all kinds of fun.
    I’d just finished prodding the third bush and was heading for a nearby bed of hostas, when I failed to see a root sticking up from the ground. Since I was moving forward at a pretty good clip when I fell, I slid for quite a ways, sort of like a baseball player sliding face first into home plate.
    But rather than coming up safe, when my forward momentum stopped, I found myself nose to nose with a corpse.
    Instantly, my breath came in great gasping gulps. My heart pounded loudly in my chest. Suddenly, I found myself scrambling backwards. Then, I shot to my feet and screamed.
     
    ***
     
    Because of its small size, Hendricksville police protection is provided by the county sheriff. And Detective Daniel Oberton heads up the investigative unit of that department. A large man, he fills nearly every space he occupies, which that day seemed to include this generous-sized front lawn.
    “Hetty,” he said, nodding in my direction.
    I was pleased he seemed so friendly. When I’d helped Oberton with his last investigation, he hadn’t exactly welcomed my involvement, but he hadn’t carted me off to jail, either.  Apparently in a department as small as the sheriff’s, extra hands sometimes proved useful — eve n those belonging to a rank amatuer like me.
    “Good to see you again, sir,” I said.
    He let his gaze drift over the rest of our group, which included Megan and Hugh and Jeremy along with homeowners, Phillip and Gloria Benchley. Meanwhile, the corpse remained well hidden beneath the draping evergreen boughs. And with Hugh standing right there among us, it was a fact for which I was exceedingly grateful.
    “Chaos is a good gerbil,” Hugh told Oberton, apparently in an attempt to clear his pet of any blame in this unexpected disaster. “He’s never run away like this before.”
    Oberton smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, son.”
    Hugh blushed and grabbed his mother’s hand. Jeremy, still in his stroller, chomped on a plastic teething bone and watched everyone gathered around him with the kind of fascination only infants can display.
    We were in a loose circle located about two yards from the tree which concealed the  dead body. Oberton and his fellow detective, Clyde Warring, a slim, intense man, faced the tree. The rest of us stood opposite them.
    “So,” Oberton said, turning his attention to the adults, “did anybody know the victim?”
    “I did.” Megan said.  “His name is Calvin Mazor. He is… ah… he was a janitor at the high school.”
    “And you knew him how?”
    “We were members of the same church.”
    “Which is?”
    “The First Methodist on Waymouth Street.”
    “Did he have a family?”
    “There’s a wife. Her name’s Blanche. I’m not sure what their address is.”
    “Thank you. We’ll track that down.” He glanced for a moment at Hugh before addressing Megan again. “Will you be available later if I come up with more questions?”
    “Sure.  I’m almost always home.”
    “What about you, sir,” Oberton said to Phillip Benchley. “Do you have any idea why the deceased was found here in your front yard?”
    Benchley, a small, balding man, sputtered around for a minute before he managed to get a full sentence out. “No, sir.” He puffed up his chest. “I’ve never seen…, I mean, I’ve never encountered that man before.” He glanced at his wife.
    “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I’ve never had anything to do with a man by that name.”
    Then, we all turned to watch a state police van pull up to the curb. If Hendricksville is small, so is Weaver