Murder in Waiting - Lynn Cahoon Page 0,11
view. The sound of the thump when the truck hit the older man hadn’t been blocked, though. I dropped the bread and swung open the door. “Call 911 and get an ambulance out here.”
Not waiting for a reply, I took off running. As I did, the black truck backed up and sped down the road.
“The plate is A5490B. A5490B.” I kept repeating the license plate number over and over, hoping I’d remember it. My phone was in my jeans pocket and I pulled it out, hitting speed dial for Greg. Like I’d expected, I’d gotten his voice mail. “Black Dodge Ram truck. Double tires in the back. License plate A5490B.”
I hung up and tucked the phone back in my pocket. I was at the scene now and my breath was coming fast and hard. I tried to slow down my breath as I looked at Frank. His eyes didn’t see me, and as I reached out for a pulse, I knew I wouldn’t find one.
The ambulance came seconds later. Of course, it felt like hours that I stood there, guarding the body and trying to keep traffic from the side of the road where Frank lay. Greg followed the EMT guys, and he put his hands on her arms.
“Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?” He turned me left, then right, then ran his hands through my hair. “Did you hit your head or fall?”
“I wasn’t involved in the accident. Aunt Jackie and I were at the window of the coffee shop. He came up and talked to me. Said he was going to fix the issue with the wall. Now he’s dead, so there won’t be any fixes.”
“Which means you needed him alive. I’m so glad. I was worried I was going to have to arrest you for murder.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching his face. When he didn’t smile like he usually does on a bad joke, I rubbed my face. This couldn’t be happening, not in a little town like South Cove. “You don’t think it was just an accident?”
“You don’t either.” The words were calm and definitely not a question. He led me over to the sidewalk where a bench had been placed. “Sit and let me deal with this. I’ll take your statement a little later.”
I did what he told me. Soon after the EMTs arrived, the van with Bakerstown Memorial Home on the side arrived. Doc Ames climbed out. The doc was owner/manager of the local funeral home, as well as the county coroner. Because there weren’t a lot of suspicious deaths in our little corner of the world, it worked out well for his life. Especially because it was just him and a part-time secretary, who also helped with hostess duties at the larger funerals.
He pulled on a canvas fishing hat over his graying hair and moved slowly to the side of the road to check the body.
My phone buzzed and I answered, turning away from the sight. “Hi, Aunt Jackie.”
“Should I come out and sit with you? Why don’t you come back to the shop and sit out of the sun?” I could see my aunt standing at the bookstore window, watching me.
“No, stay there. I’m coming inside. I’ll let Greg know where I am, but Doc Ames is here and I just don’t want to watch anymore.” And I didn’t want my aunt to see this.
A clicking sounded on the other end of the line. “Is he dead?”
“Yeah.” I caught Greg’s gaze and pointed to the bookstore. He nodded. Which was one of the great things about living with someone. They knew what you were saying, even if it was just a hand gesture or head nod. “I’m on my way inside. I can’t believe that truck just kept going.”
I didn’t get a response, and when I looked up, my aunt was no longer in the window. And my phone was dead. I wondered if she’d heard anything I’d said after telling her I was coming inside.
Deek had already arrived and was set up at one of the tables. He came in a lot to write during off hours now that he was working on his first novel. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about. He’d gone through a few first chapters and then dumped it all. He stood and hurried across the room to meet me. His blond dreadlocks had a pink tinge to them. “Are you okay? That must have been horrible.”
“I’m fine. I just can’t believe