Free Shadows on a Maine Christmas (Antique Print Mystery Series Book 7) by Lea Wait

dealing with the rotten sides of people?” Nick asked. He paused. “Funny. I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that. My grandpa farmed; my dad lobstered. Mainers through and through, both of ’em, though one took to the land and one to the sea. When I was growing up they each tried recruiting me. Telling me why his way was best.” He smiled and drank. “Guess I was more like ’em both than they wanted to know, ’cause I chose my own way. Decided to be a cop, or a trooper—whoever solved murders—when I was about eight or nine. That’s when a girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old, was found dead a few blocks from here, in the cellar of an old building that’d burned down years before.”
    Maggie stared at him. “The ‘hidden garden’?” She’d visited that peaceful place. In summer chipmunks chirruped and raced along and between the old granite stones in the walls. Stone chairs and benches had been set along paths so visitors could relax and enjoy the perennials and thick plantings several feet, and a world away, from the street.
    “Ayuh. That’s what they call the place now. The Waymouth Garden Club claimed it and planted it real nice some years back. But when I was a kid it was a wild, dirty place where teenagers went to smoke and hang out. Other things happened there, too, I suspect. I was only a kid, but I heard stories. Ghost stories, mostly, but still. And then a girl’s body was found there. People talked about it for weeks. But no one ever found out who she was, or where she came from.”
    Nick paused. “I used to go and look at that cellar. Imagine her body there. Thought if I were a cop, I’d be the hero who’d figure out who she was. And get the guy who killed her.”
    “Did they ever identify her?” Will asked.
    “Nope. First thing I did, once I was a state trooper, was read her case files. She’s still a Maine State cold case. All these years later.” He paused. “When I have extra time, between cases, I still go over that file. I’ve read it hundreds of times. Maybe thousands. I’ve fed the information we have, such as it is, into every new state and federal database that comes on-line. Talked to everyone around at the time. Zip. Nada. I always figured someone in Waymouth knew something. That eventually it would come out.” He shook his head. “The town buried her, but we still don’t know who she was, or where she came from. Or who killed her. Or why.”
    “Wow,” said Maggie. “There must be a family who’s missed her for, what—thirty years or more?”
    Nick shrugged. “You’d think so. But she never matched any reported missing persons. That might be the saddest part.”
    “But you’re still investigating,” said Maggie. “You haven’t given up.”
    “I’m still looking,” said Nick. “I’ll admit, after all this time, I may never close the case. But at least I’ll know I tried. And I’ve solved a few other murders along the way. So I’m still glad I chose this profession. I’m just too stubborn to give up on that one case.”
    “I’m glad,” said Maggie. “And glad you told us.”
    Nick took a long drink. “Hey, Maggie, you’re a girl. Here’s a question for you. What would a teenage girl want for high school graduation? My Zelda’s a senior, and her mom wants to buy her a piece of fancy jewelry.”
    “Jewelry’s a lovely idea,” said Maggie. “It would be something for her to remember the occasion by. Maybe to pass down to her own daughter someday.”
    “Don’t mention her having kids any time soon. That’s not going to happen if I have anything to do with it.” Nick raised his fist. His eyes didn’t smile. Then he seemed to relax. “That heirloom idea? Could work for some girls. But Emily—that’s my ex—she sent Zelda a real pearl necklace for her sixteenth birthday last year. And you know what my kid did with it?”
    Maggie shook her head.
    “Pawned it. Gave it to a friend who was over twenty-one and he pawned it. I