Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Four

  


New episodes automatically post every day at 9AM Pacific. Links are updated manually and may be delayed. Click on the logo at the top of this blog to check for the latest posts. 


Episode Four

Dad and Mrs. Timms did somehow succeed in marrying me off—despite my apparently slovenly ways—to a lovely newspaperman by the name of Timothy Carter. That’s how I came to be Mrs. Carter, relict of the late Timothy Carter. We only lasted a year before Timothy committed the unpardonable sin of going down a dark alley in hot pursuit of a scoop and subsequently coming between a mafia hitman’s bullet and his intended victim. Now I’m a widow and absolutely determined that if I do end up center-aisling it a second time it won’t be with another newspaperman.

“I’ll tell Mrs. Timms that you won’t be home for supper,” my father promised. “Drive carefully, Jane.”

After that, we stopped off at Flo’s. Her mother was still out, ostensibly maintaining order and decorum amongst the ranks of the Daughters of the American Revolution. The Reverend Sidney Radcliff was in his study, knee deep in wadded up writing paper and cigar butts.

“When are you going to break down and get a typewriter to compose your sermons?” I asked by way of greeting.

Revered Radcliff just laughed. I think that now, even if he saw the light and wanted a typewriter, he’d refuse to modernize just to spite me.

“Where are you going again?” he asked absently, even though Flo had already told him twice.

“White Falls.”

“Oh, yes,” said Reverend Radcliff. “Used to have an aunt who lived there. Nice little hamlet, at least the bit of it that hasn’t yet washed into the river.”

When we returned to Bancroft Street, we found Emma waiting on the front porch with her suitcase. The luggage stowed in the back seat, we drove out the south road, which led through fifteen miles of rolling country to the town of White Falls, located on the bank of the Grassy River.

During the ride, Emma was by turns talkative and morose. I supposed Flo and I were sympathetic listeners because Emma told us all about her difficulties since graduating from school. Her parents had left her with more debts than money, and after the estate had been settled, nothing had been left. She had worked in a drugstore, in a restaurant, and as a nanny, but none of those positions had proven satisfactory.

“I haven’t been very lucky,” she said. “It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if this housekeeping job is gone before we get to White Falls.”

“We’ll hope not,” I said.

I worried we might be delayed by a rainstorm. Clouds scudded like sailboats across the sky. I called Florence’s attention to them, but she said, “Oh, the sun is shining. It won’t rain for hours.”

However, before we had covered two-thirds of the distance to White Falls, the gathering clouds blotted out the last patch of blue. Florence rolled up the car windows to protect us from the chill wind. It grew darker, and flashes of lightning crackled across the sky.

“Will we reach White Falls before it breaks?” Emma asked.

“Not a chance,” I said. “The rain is coming now.”

A great white sheet of rain approached from the direction of the Grassy River. A few drops of rain splattered the windshield, and then a deluge descended. The pavement became a lake, and I could not see more than ten feet beyond the headlights.

“This is a regular cloudburst!” I said, slowing Bouncing Betsy to a crawl.

“Maybe we should pull up under a tree,” Flo suggested. “You’re apt to run off the road.”

“If I stop and shut off the motor, the engine wires may get so wet from this driving rain that we won’t be able to get it started again until the storm is over,” I said. “I believe it’s better to keep going.”

Before Bouncing Betsy had traveled very much farther, it became apparent to me that my decision had been unwise. The rain was coming down harder. A coughing gasp from the engine warned that the motor might die anytime. We were going to be stranded in the middle of the road.

“We’ll have to pull up somewhere,” I said.

“I see a building just ahead.” Florence peered through the rain-splattered glass. “It looks like a shed.”

“And the door is open, or rather there isn’t any door!” I said. “A welcome port in a storm!”

I turned the car into the dirt track leading off the roadway and drove into the shed.


Next Episode 

See All Available Episodes

You may also like these cozies (contains affiliate links):

   

Comments

Popular Posts