Murder at the Courthouse by A. H. Gabhart Page A

kitchen window. Maybe when he’d thought Anthony looked confused, it was just his own expression reflecting back to him. Maybe murder was supposed to be confusing. Surprising, confusing, and frightening.
    Then again, could be the boy had seen something. If so, Michael would have to find out what. Tomorrow. Till then he’d put it out of his mind and call Karen.
    Karen did have questions, but when he didn’t have answers, she just said she’d pray for the victim’s family whoever they were. Then she talked about the play they planned to go see on Thursday night and if he’d be able to help with the youth picnic on Sunday.
    As they talked, he pictured her honey-brown hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. She’d have on her slightly ratty red warmups while she studied for her next sermon. Her Bible would be there beside her and she would be skimming Scripture verses or making notes as they talked. It was a talent of hers, being able to think about two things at once.
    Michael sometimes wished he could get all her attention, but even when they were alone together, she seemed to have some other thoughts in reserve that she wasn’t ready to share. He told her that once. She hadn’t denied it, but simply smiled a little sadly and insisted it was a fault they shared.
    Perhaps she was right. He was fond of Karen, but he shied away from any talk of love or marriage. She never spoke of anything more than friendship between them either. No strings. No demands. Just easy companionship for a dinner out or a movie. Yet it seemed possible they might eventually drift toward a more serious relationship the way the whole town seemed to think they should. All except Aunt Lindy.
    Later as the water flowed over Michael in the shower, he wondered if he should try to take that next step with Karen. After all, hadn’t he come back to Hidden Springs looking for the kind of settled happiness he remembered his mother and father having? Happiness had almost radiated from them. They were in love with each other. They were pleased with Michael for a son. They were content with their church and the church people who were the same as family to them.They were even happy with Aunt Lindy in spite of the way she tried to shake things up from time to time.
    She accused them of being afraid to try new things. She claimed that simply wrapping oneself in happiness could be mind-numbing. Michael’s father would smile at her and say there were worse things than being numb with happiness.
    As the steam rose around him, Michael began to feel a little numb himself. He twisted the hot water faucet off and let cold water dash him awake.
    His skin was still tingling when he went out on the deck, where the gentle sounds of the spring night surrounded him. With Jasper stretched out at his feet, Michael thought through what he knew about the murder, but nothing came one bit clearer. The victim was a John Doe. There were no suspects. No witnesses. No murder weapon. No leads.
    All he had were two people who hadn’t wanted to meet his eyes. By the time he and Jasper went inside, he was almost ready to believe the mob or maybe the CIA had done it. Never mind why they’d picked the Hidden Springs Courthouse steps to dump the body. That was one of those details regular folks ignored when they were working out their theories. Tonight he’d be a regular folk himself. Searching out answers that made sense could wait for morning.

    The next day Michael went through the back door into the courthouse the same as every morning. But this time he paused in the hallway to listen.
    In the sheriff’s office, Betty Jean was making coffee. The container made a thud when she put it back in the cabinet. The clerks in Neville Gravitt’s office were turning on theircomputers, electronic beeps signaling the beginning of the workday. A phone rang in the judge’s office, but no one was there yet to answer it. Somewhere in the back of