Snuffed Out - Tim Myers [10]
But not just yet. On the river below me, I heard a boat go by, wondering what kind of lunatic would be out on the water, as chilly and as dark as it was. Then I had to laugh. It was probably the same kind of idiot up on a roof all by himself at night. A lot had happened in my life lately, and I missed not having someone special to share it with, but I’d learned that love wasn’t something I could make happen. Until it came along again, I’d have to be content with what I had, which was a very full life with people I cared about.
I stayed as long as I could stand the chill wind, then reluctantly put my blanket and chair away, gathered up my trash, and headed back downstairs.
I’d laid a fire in the stove two weeks before, just waiting for the first opportunity to use it. The pinecones I used as kindling jumped to life, and in no time at all I had a blaze going. I knew it wasn’t all that energy efficient to leave the stove door open, but I loved to see the flames dance, to hear the popping embers, and smell that smoky aroma.
I decided to take an extended hot shower before I settled in, and after a nice long steam, I was fully relaxed. I grabbed A Pint of Murder and dove into it, glad for the opportunity to visit another world.
The pounding on my door took me out of the missive as surely as if someone had snatched the book from my fingertips.
“Good. You’re still awake,” Markum said as he brushed past me into the apartment. His black hair, wild and untamed as always, was in dire need of a haircut, and his chin sprouted the beginnings of a full, dark beard.
“I know I don’t keep your hours, but it’s barely ten, I’m still up,” I said. “Getting ready for winter?” I added as I gestured to his chin.
Markum rubbed it with a huge hand and said, “Going to Alaska next month, so I thought I’d get a little extra insulation.”
“What takes you so far away?” I asked.
He shrugged. “A chance at salvage. Say, want to join me? I could use an extra hand. The pay’s good, and I can promise you an adventure you’ll not soon forget.”
I said, “I’ve got a shop to run, and all of River’s Edge along with it. Thanks for asking though.” A part of me believed that going along with Markum would be exactly the adventure he promised, and I’d been hoping to get a look at just what his salvaging entailed, but the wiser part of me decided being at River’s Edge was adventure enough. Still, maybe someday I’d surprise us both and take him up on his offer.
Markum said, “Heard about Gaston. Accidents can kill you just as dead as the bad guys can.”
“Did you know him?” I asked, surprised that Markum’s path would cross the potter’s at all.
“The man liked working nights as much as I do. Every so often we’d share a sip of whiskey and tell a few lies. He deserved better than he got. I heard you’re the one who found him. How did he die?”
“Sheriff Morton says he must have kicked over a bucket of water and shorted out his pottery wheel. The cord was frayed, I saw that myself.”
Markum said intently, “You say he was at an electric wheel?”
“That’s where we found him.”
A cloud crossed Markum’s face. “I don’t believe it.”
“What is it?”
“Gaston hated electric wheels. Ask anybody in his crowd, he was a stickler for the old ways, and that included using a kick wheel.”
“I don’t mean to show my ignorance,” I said, “but what exactly is a kick wheel?”
“It’s human powered, there’s not a motor on it. Gaston claimed it was the only way he could get the feel for the clay he was throwing. You need to let Morton know that.”
“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” The last thing I wanted to do was to get embroiled in another murder investigation.
“The sheriff and I don’t exactly see eye to eye,” Markum admitted. “There was an incident in our past that was open to interpretation; he chose to see things his way, and I chose another. Since then I’ve done my best to avoid him. But you need to tell him, Harrison. He can’t let this go down as an accident, not like that. Will you tell him?”
I said reluctantly, “I guess so,