Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

again for any information about the accident. There was none. The day before, the local paper had run only a single, short article about the discovery of the body in the woods. The body had not been identified and according to the paper it was an unfortunate accident. Alfred smiled to himself.

CHAPTER 64
    “JACK, WE’VE GOT TO GO up there,” Max announced as soon as they got home.
    “Do you really think that’s a wise thing to do?” He paused and added, “Hungry?”
    “Yes and yes.”
    They still had Chinese leftovers. While Jack made up two plates, Max disappeared. He was just hitting the Start button on the microwave with thoughts of Max’s previous show of gratitude for the Kung Pao Chicken when he heard the rustling of plastic. He turned and saw that Max had returned with the large plastic bag that Polly had given her. He watched her sit on the couch and open the bag. By the time the microwave beeped, signaling that food was ready, Max had pulled out the quilt that Malcom was supposed to have picked up. She sat with it in her lap.
    The microwave beeped. He called her. “Food’s ready. Something to drink?”
    She looked up at Jack. “She just lost her husband; she must be devastated. Picking up this quilt would have been the last thing he did for her. We have to get it back to her.”
    Max twisted around and put the bag with the quilt aside on the floor next to the couch. Jack brought her plate to her. “It’s hot.” He repeated, “A drink?”
    “Thanks. We’ll go up tomorrow. I don’t have to be into work until five.”
    “Something to drink?” he asked again.
    “Do we have any beer? If we left mid-morning, we’d be up there by lunch, and I could be back in time for my shift.”
    “Here,” he handed her a glass.
    “What’s this?” Max asked as she looked at the dark brown liquid.
    “There’s a new microbrewery in North Hampton, the Throwback Brewery. I checked it out earlier while you were at work. I bought a growlette of Hopstruck IPA. It’s pretty good.”
    She took a sip, and with a slight foam mustache on her upper lip, she agreed with him. “So does that sound good?”
    He knew that he had no choice but to agree.
    “Okay then. We should be on the road by ten at the latest.

CHAPTER 65
    POLLY, STILL IN SHOCK , had spent her Tuesday aimlessly walking around the Inn. She made calls and friends from town came over, but for her, time seemed to have stopped. It was nearly suppertime when Lieutenant Malloy called to say that the body was ready to be released. She asked him again if there was any more information about what had happened to Malcom. He had nothing new to tell her. She said, “Thank you, for all your kindness. Please find who did this.”
    “I will do everything I can, Mrs. Christian. If you think of anything else, please call me. Anytime.” He paused for a moment, hoping that she would have something else to say before hanging up. That moment seemed to last forever. He was just about to put down the phone when her voice came back over the line.
    “Lieutenant Malloy.”
    “Yes.”
    “There is something. It may not mean anything …”
    The line went silent again.
    “Mrs. Christian?” He waited again, then repeated, “Mrs. Christian? … You had something else?” Clearly she was struggling with whatever she wanted to say. Why? Was she embarrassed? From his experience it would probably be totally irrelevant. Most of the time that was the case. But once in a while, that seemingly insignificant nugget would become a case breaker.
    “I … it’s probably nothing, but remember I told you about the antiques dealer who came by and was interested in the quilts.”
    “Yes.” He quickly thumbed through his notes. “Alfred?”
    “Yes. After he looked at the one in the Captain’s room, he offered to buy it, along with the letter I showed him. I wouldn’t sell either to him and he became quite agitated and rushed out.”
    “Yes, I remember.”
    “At the time Malcom wasn’t around, but later when I told him, I could see that he was upset. He tried to act like it was no big deal, but I could tell. And then the next thing we knew, the quilt and the letter were stolen.”
    “The one in The Captain’s Room?”
    “Yes.”
    “Go on.”
    “I can’t even tell you on what day it was stolen. But one day, sometime after that visit, I noticed that the letter on the wall was missing while I was getting ready for some new guests. Malcom was sure that Alfred had stolen