St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

ink.
    Zach took the fingerprint cards and held them so that the light from the narrow basement window fell across them. “Score a few for the good guys.”
    “You can use them?”
    “Oh yeah. Hold the cards while I photograph them.”
    “Both cards?”
    “Before the case ever gets to court,” he said, “the lawyer in me wants to put paid to the argument that it might be the framer’s—or a lover’s—sticky thumbprints on the paintings.”
    “Reasonable doubt?”
    “Not really,” Zach said, pulling a camera out of his back pocket, “but who says people—especially juries—are reasonable? Think O.J. Simpson.”
    “I’d rather not, thanks. Want me to hold the sheets?”
    “Yes. Over there. I’ll use the macro setting and as much natural light as possible.”
    “Why the photos?” Jill asked. “I thought St. Kilda was sending someone with a warrant to pick up the originals.”
    “Think of it as fire insurance.”
    The door opened and Sheriff Purcell walked in. “What’s this about fire?”
    “Just an observation on how easily old papers burn,” Zach said.
    “That’s why the sign says No Smoking.” Purcell shifted and looked at the file Jill was holding protectively. “See you figured out the filing system.”
    No thanks to you, she thought grimly, or the dragon at the front desk . “It has a few odd kicks to its gallop,” Jill said, “but we figured it out.”
    “What are you doing with those papers?” he asked Zach.
    “Taking pictures.” Zach’s voice was pleasant, matter-of-fact.
    Purcell frowned. “You didn’t say anything about pictures.”
    “We didn’t want to go through the red tape for a full copy of the file,” Zach said. “Your people have better things to do than chase old paper for us. Don’t worry, we’re being very careful with the originals.”
    “There’s a public copy machine on the first floor. Dime a sheet,” the sheriff said.
    “Thanks for the offer,” Zach said, “but we can do it faster with a digital camera, and with less potential harm to the originals.”
    Purcell watched for a few minutes in silence. “Mind telling me what this is about?”
    “I’m afraid that comes under the heading of privilege,” Zach said easily, “and right now we don’t have any reason to think you’re involved in our research for this case.” He turned to Jill. “Just hit the high spots, darling. We can always come back if we need to.”
    “No problem, sugar-buns,” she said, spreading out the documents she’d chosen on top of dusty cartons. “High spots and no detours.”
    Purcell started to say something, then shrugged and walked out.
    “Can you hold that letter real flat for me?” Zach asked. “Handwriting is tricky.”
    Jill went to Zach’s side, carefully straightened and held down an old piece of paper, then waited until he told her to turn it over. Working as a team, they copied the documents in the file folder. Then they replaced everything, photographed the file back in its box, and photographed the dates on the outside of the carton.
    Fire insurance.

62
    BLESSING, ARIZONA
SEPTEMBER 16
2:56 P.M.
    Y ou drive,” Zach said, getting into the passenger side of the too-small rental car. Last-minute reservations were a pain in the butt. Literally.
    Jill took off her belly bag and threw it in the backseat. The car had been designed for a planet where people’s legs were shorter than their arms.
    “Where are we going?” she asked.
    “Same airport we came from.”
    “And then?”
    “Depends on what I find in the files.”
    While Jill left the town of Blessing in her rearview mirror, Zach transferred photos from his camera to the computer. Before he opened the first file, he copied everything and sent it to St. Kilda.
    More fire insurance.
    Then he began to read.
    “Hello?” Jill said after a while. “I’m part of this dynamic duo, remember?”
    Zach looked at her. “So far it’s just Breck family history. I figured you already knew it.”
    “You figured wrong.”
    Smiling slightly, he went back to the first document and began summarizing for Jill.
    “Your grandmother, Justine Breck, and Thomas Dunstan were arrested by Deputy Joel Purcell near the City Tavern.”
    “Where’s that?”
    “Just outside Blessing city limits,” Zach said.
    “Figures. It’s called the Watering Hole now. Canyon County is dry. Technically it’s a private club, because private clubs are allowed to sell booze. In the real world the entry fee you pay at the