Free A Lethal Time (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 4) by Peggy A. Edelheit Page B

drop-cloths covering most of it, it was hard to tell.
    “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked.
    I looked around, wondering where? “Sure.”
    “Follow me back to the kitchen.”
    I did and was shocked to enter a remarkably bright room. Half of it was the kitchen area with an island and stools. The other half was obviously his studio. One whole wall was sheer glass with a palladium glass arch above it reaching to the open rafters. It was remarkable. I almost wanted to put sunglasses on with all the sun streaming through and bouncing off the stark-white painted interior.
    “This is amazing!” I said, admiring the space.
    He finally grinned. “I get that reaction the first time someone enters this area. But then again, I don’t often let people invade my personal space so to speak.”
    I turned to face him, smiling. “Well, I feel honored.”
    He relaxed somewhat and began making coffee, but then glanced up at me. “Besides, you look harmless enough.”
    I laughed. “Just wait. You don’t really know me, yet.”
    As he made himself busy grabbing mugs, I walked around checking out some uncovered paintings. It seemed no medium was off limits. Landscapes and portraits in oils, acrylic, and watercolors were scattered about haphazardly. It was hard to pick out an instant favorite. Impressive.
    He handed me a mug. “What are you looking for?”
    Straight-faced, I said, “Sarah Smith’s woods.”

 
     
     
    Chapter 35
    I Could Not See The Trees For The Forest
     
     
    Jacob almost spilled his coffee, but caught himself.
    “Why would you be looking for Sarah’s woods?”
    I briefly explained her call to me, what I saw that afternoon looking at her missing woods, and how it was a concern where there were rural wooded areas locally and elsewhere in the state.
    “She’s right. A few municipalities are having problems. Thieves are hitting during the week because most people who are day-trippers come up on weekends. Plus, they also hit off season when there are less tourists and sightseers about. But I guess they’ve been getting bolder, striking more frequently, taking out whole sections of forests.”
    I listened as he told a few stories of victims who lost chunks of their woodlands by people who acted like they had the owner’s permission to cut it down if questioned.
    “Sounds more like clear-cutting to me,” I said. “After what I saw at Sarah’s, it was as though someone nuked the area. Have you seen or heard any gossip floating around about any trucks or individuals in the area who seem out of place?” I watched him closely for a reaction.
    “Not anything that would stir my interest. I’m usually busy here in my studio painting. Sometimes I lose all track of time, and, before you know it, it’s dark.”
    “But the strangest things are sighted well after dark.”
    He was about to set his mug down on the counter, but stopped mid-move and turned to me. In a flash, he recouped and slowly set it down. “This is a rural area. Lots of things go on after dark. It goes with the territory.”
    What a strange answer!
    I changed direction again, looking for any hesitation.
    “Do you know Jackson Porter?”
    “The one who bought that property down from Sarah?”
    I played along, knowing he already knew more than he was letting on. “Yeah, the one and only, and a semi-quasi Harley, cattle-raising kind of guy.”
    He laughed. “You have a good sense of humor.”
    “So I’ve been told.”
    “Well, he used to work for Sarah for a while, and I guess he decided to grab a chance to change his future.”
    “I was sort of surprised how he went about it, though.”
    He laughed. “You mean getting his meal ticket off of Sarah, while working on the side for Robinson?”
    I was surprised, but then I wasn’t, not really. Obviously, this was another town with a gossip grapevine, and he was only giving away so much to an outsider.
    “I’m getting closer, but can’t catch a break,” I said.
    “Step away like an