Free Capacity for Murder (Professor Bradshaw Mysteries) by Bernadette Pajer Page A

facts in government records, newspaper archives, trade journals, every bit of printed matter. Squirrel was so popular, he had the luxury of choice and would refuse a job if he didn’t like the particulars. A year ago, an attorney turned down by Squirrel exacted his revenge by framing him for the murder his client had committed. Fortunately for Squirrel, the death had been by electrocution—a rigged light bulb in the victim’s house—so Bradshaw had been called to investigate. Bradshaw had been Squirrel’s favorite client ever since.
    “I want everything he can find on everyone here, the Hornsbys, Hollister, Moss, Loomis, and the Thompsons. I especially need to know if any of them have ever had anything to do with electrical matters.” He pressed his pocket notebook and pencil at Henry. “Tell him time is of the essence, I’ll pay for his speed. Send a wire to Tom—Professor Hill. Tell him to send everything he can find on Arnold Loomis and the Loomis Long Life Luminator, and have him go to the house and find my file on my electrotherapy outfit. Tell him he’ll find it in my files in the basement.”
    Henry nodded, scribbling away.
    “And I want information on the coming railroad, news on speculators. Who’s buying land? Bringing in businesses? And what about those gas rigs we saw offshore near Copalis? What resources are there here to exploit, and where has the name Arnold Loomis cropped up in connection?”
    Henry looked up. “More than one con?”
    “He’s not here for his health. It’ll be a few hours before the tide’s low again. Head out soon as it’s safe. Be sure to tell Deputy Mitchell you’re leaving, but he doesn’t need any details. Have Colin drive you in the steamer. I’ll repay his rental costs. And you’ll have to hire a boat to Hoquiam, the regular steamer only runs three times a week.”
    Henry shook his head. “Killing two birds, eh?”
    “Fastest way to get what I need.”
    “Like I said, killing two birds. It’s not fair to her, Ben. Can’t set her free and lock her up, both.”
    Bradshaw had no answer to that. He carried his plate into the kitchen, feeling guilty for dumping his uneaten bread and berries into the compost bucket and wondering if he should ask Dr. Hornsby for some sort of digestive.

Chapter Nine
    Mrs. Hornsby was best described as bosomy. The sort of woman small children loved to be embraced by and that made men miss their mothers. As requested, she was waiting for him in the library. The day had grown warm, and all the windows were open for cross-ventilation. The white sheers danced in the confines of their tiebacks. Bradshaw unbuttoned his jacket as he sat, and found Mrs. Hornsby shaking her head at his dark suit.
    “You don’t need to be so formal with us, Professor.”
    “It’s my uniform while I’m working.” Like Sheriff Graham, he knew a man’s attire inspired respect.
    “Well, as long as you know we wouldn’t think less of you if you dressed more comfortably. Most of our male guests wear linen this time of year. Did you bring beach clothes?”
    “I did, thank you.” He’d not brought swimming attire, but he did have a lighter weight suit with him. “You’ve created a unique place, Mrs. Hornsby.”
    “We hear that all the time. My husband is a very wise man. He just doesn’t live life. He analyzes it. He thinks deeply about what makes people happy and healthy. Most people believe that they’d be happy if only they had enough money to be idle all the time, or they’d be healthy if only they could find a miracle cure. When really, health and happiness are lost when we fight our natures and gained when we honor them.”
    It was obviously a speech she made often, but she spoke with sincerity.
    “I’m sorry for the loss of your son-in-law.”
    “Oh, Professor. We miss him so. It’s been awful. Simply awful. I wish to God that Mr. Loomis had never come here, bringing that awful machine. Oh—I didn’t mean—you had us all so shocked when