Dana Cameron by Past Malice: An Emma Fielding Mystery

Dana Cameron by Past Malice: An Emma Fielding Mystery

Author:Past Malice: An Emma Fielding Mystery
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Detective, Mystery, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, Detective and mystery stories, Fielding, Mystery & Detective, Women archaeologists, Fiction - Mystery, Emma (Fictitious character), Fiction, Suspense, Women Sleuths, Manors - Massachusetts, Mystery fiction, General, Manors, Massachusetts
ISBN: 9780380819560
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2003-05-08T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

BRIAN REMINDED ME TO BRING MY CELL PHONE with me the next morning, when I reminded him that I’d be visiting the museum at Boxham-by-Sea. I replied rather shortly that it was already in my bag; I was capable of learning a new trick, even at my advanced age. I guess my feelings were still hurt that he didn’t come up to bed when I did the night before. After he got out the door, I pulled myself together, and dropped Bucky off in downtown Stone Harbor, telling her I’d meet her at the library around noon, before I headed off to Boxham-by-Sea.

Business was thriving in Boxham today, I noticed as I walked along the water; good. Then I frowned: A car honked at a tourist who had paused in the middle of the street to get a better picture of the harbor. As I had recently moved into the area, I understood what drew people to these historic towns: the beauty, the history, and the people were well worth the visit. But, lapsing into the complaint of locals everywhere around the world, why did tourists leave their common sense behind when they went on vacation? The laws of physics do not also go on holiday; cars do not pass through you because you are a visitor, the sun does not burn less brightly because you have the day off. I wished they would take the care that they took when they were at home.

Just like you do when you are on vacation? a little voice inside my head asked. Like stalking strangers through cemeteries at night and going into bars in the bad part of town? And what about the time that you—?

Shut up, I told myself amiably and reasonably. I turned down Shield Street so that I could find my way to the museum.

As hard as I tried, I still wasn’t on time. After I gave my name to the receptionist at the desk, I tried to stop panting and pull my sweaty shirt away from my back without being obvious about it. A few minutes later and I started to wonder whether Dr. Spencer wasn’t just making me wait because she was put out with me for being late. Eventually a harassed-looking woman in a nice blue suit came striding purposefully toward me. As she drew closer, I could see that she was probably my contact—the badge around her neck was one clue—and that her day wasn’t going smoothly either. Her blonde hair, longer than mine and reaching well below her shoulders, was loosely caught up in a barrette behind her head, but it seemed to be slipping, letting little tendrils escape, curling from the humidity. She stuck out her hand and began introducing herself before she even made it up to me.

“You must be Dr. Fielding, hello, sorry I’m running a little behind.” She pumped my hand briefly, twice, and immediately turned around to head back to where she’d emerged from. I had to trot to catch up with her again.


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