THE MASTER OF MURDER : The New Town

by James Tayler

  Mystery:

  The Master Of Murder :

  A NEW TOWN

  James Taylor

  1

  Copyright © 2015 James Taylor

  All rights reserved.

  Table Of Content

  Copyright

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter3

  Free Book

  ######################################

  Copyright 2015

  All Right Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ######################################

  Summary

  Alex is a joyful girl who is trying to settle in her new job. She has a lot to worry about but, she decided to have some fun for the meantime, and deal with the problems in the next coming months.

  Bill had dedicated his life to making sure objects were preserved, housed, and researched to the best of his ability. He is a perfectionists who always strive for the best, but somehow, he feels dissatisfied with the things around him.

  Bill and Alex will cross paths. They will have to work together in order to unveil the story. Little did Alex know that he would be accused of killing several museum professionals; One woman, Alexandra Hamilton, moved to Braxton, Wyoming after her mentor and boss was murdered. Alex must prove her innocence, and so she will find the real killer. Everybody thought it was her.. but, was it really her?

  A NEW TOWN

  Chapter1

  According to the U.S. Census Bureau the population hadn't changed in over 30 years. Outside of the town the rumour was that the entire population of Braxton conspires as to who fills out the census, and the census officer is in on it. The next census in 2020 would be no different, but Alex Hamilton had no intention of staying that long. As she pulled the moving van onto Main Street, Alex felt like a fish out of water. Braxton couldn't be more different than her hometown of Galveston, Texas. The buildings looked different. The people walking down the street looked different. The Big Horn Mountains nestled behind the town was a foreign site to the coastal girl. She was excited though! Tomorrow she started her first museum job after graduate school. Alex loved her parents, but living with them for eight months was long enough.

  The moving van lurched to a stop in front of a Main Street store front, South Creek Real Estate, and Alex hopped down. She climbed back in the cab for her sweat shirt after getting hit by the cool air. When she had left Galveston three days ago it had been in the upper 70s. In Braxton it was in the low 50s. Alex didn't let that stop her as she bounded for the door. Nothing ever stopped her. It was a Hamilton family trait. They were a driven bunch. Her parents Dr. and Dr. Hamilton were both history professors, hence being named after a founding father. People had cautioned them against getting married because the chance of finding a university that needed two tenure track professors at the same time was remote. They got married anyways, and it may have taken five years, but they both got tenure track positions at Texas A&M at Galveston. They had passed this no peak is too high mentality to Alex and her sister, Josephine, who was working in the fashion industry in New York City.

  A bell chimed over her head as Alex opened the door and walked in. Bert Oswald, a chubby, rosy cheeked man, greeted her.

  "You Alexandra?" he asked with a big smile.

  "Yes, sir." They shook hands. "We talked about an apartment on the phone?"

  He nodded happily. "I've told you it's small, but if you are sure. I'll take you up there to see it."

  "Up?"

  Bert chuckled. "It's an apartment above this store. There are six of them in this building."

  Alex smiled and looked up. "Looks like I won't have to move the van."

  "You are moving to town at the right time." He started moving towards the door chatting with a smile. "Braxton is a hot bed of activity in the summer. There are festivals, and street dances. We have Community Theatre. The brewery is good, and their patio is opening next week! They have live music on Fridays!"

  He ushered her out the door and into the one to the left, all the while rattling off fun things to do in Braxton. Alex felt like she was going to burst from excitement! This town sounded like a lot of fun. She was forcing herself not to think about winter. She had months before she had to deal with that. All she needed to worry about now was settling into her new job.

  Bert led her to apartment five near the back of the second floor, telling her about the back stairs, and where the mail boxes were. She was smiling from ear to ear as Bert opened the door. She walked in and her smile wavered slightly. At first blush the efficiency apartment looked terrible. The walls were a terrible yellow laminate, only beaten by the brown multi-colored speckled floor in the kitchen area. The semi separate bedroom looked alright. As she looked closer, the apartment was in good shape, just a little out dated. There was an abundance of storage, and plenty of room for one person.

  "I'll take it," she said, after poking her head in every corner.

  "Great!" Bert exclaimed. He whipped the lease out of his pocket.

  They did the paperwork quickly. Alex wrote the check for the deposit and first month rent. Bert left her holding the keys to her new apartment.

  This was the first place that was all hers. She was not living with her parents, or a dorm, or sharing with a roommate. This apartment was hers! Now she needed to start schlepping her stuff up here. She skipped happily downstairs towards her half empty moving truck. She'd gotten the smallest size available, but had barely managed to fill it half way. Bursting out the door onto the street, her fantastic mood vanished. A young police officer with dirty blonde hair was writing her moving van a ticket.

  "No, no, no, no," Alex exclaimed, running over. "Please, I'm moving in here."

  "Identification," he said, still writing on his pad of blank tickets.

  Alex quickly fished her wallet out of her purse. "Please, officer, I can move the van. I just got to town."

  The officer didn't say anything in return.

  She didn't understand why she was getting a ticket. There were no signs stating what hours you could park, the curb was not red, and she had only been there for half an hour! She pulled out her ID and handed it to the officer, still looking around for something that told her what she had done wrong. With a glance over her shoulder, Alexandra Hamilton saw Bert Oswald looking out his large front windows and smiling at the situation unfolding before him. She turned, drawing up to her full 5'6" and coyly smiled with her hand on her hips

  Bert deflated slightly, and stuck his head out the door. "The gig is up, Pete."

  The officer laughed behind her. "Man, I didn't even get to do the outstanding warrants bit."

  "Maybe with the next one. Just a little hazing bit, Alexandra. I get Pete to do it to everyone. He lives in apartment four."

  Alex couldn't help but chuckle. "That was good. You almost had me."

  She turned back towards Pete.

  "You sure caught on quick. I'm Pete Helm." He handed her back her ID. Pete was a good looking guy in his mid-twenties with dirty blonde hair. She instinctively brushed her brown hair behind her ear as she took it from him.

  "Thanks."

  "We don't get a lot of Texans up here. You are going to be a hoot during winter."

  "She's going to be working at the museum!" said Bert, still smiling.

  "Which one?" Pete chuckled.

  "The Braxton History Museum, smarty cop," jested Bert. "You know I don't like the art museum or that house thing."

  "But they
are museums," Pete countered. He patted the side of the truck "Open her up, Tex, let's get you moved in."

  He moved towards the apartment door, and opened it before Alex could figure out what he was talking about.

  "Hey guys" he shouted up the stairs. "We got a new one! Get your butts down here."

  Alex heard someone shouting at the top of the stairs, and a bunch of doors opening. Within a minute, a group of five people clamoured down the stairs. Three women and two men looked at her with anticipation. They were all young, but that was about all they had in common. Among the notables was a man in three piece suits, a woman dressed in 1940s vintage, and a man with red dreadlocks. The other two looked relatively normal.

  "Everybody," said Pete. "This is Tex."

  "Alexandra," corrected Bert.

  Chapter2

  "I go by Alex." She felt herself blushing slightly with all the attention on her.

  Bert introduced them all one by one, but Alex couldn't remember their names after about ten seconds.

  "Come on, Tex," said the guy in dreads. "Let's get this sucker open and get you moved in."

  She didn't know what to say. She had expected to have to beg someone to help her with her furniture, and haul that rest of her stuff by herself.

  "Really? Y'all are going to help me?"

  The group laughed.

  The woman in victory roll spoke first. "Of course we are, silly."

  "Okay then! Thanks!" She quickly opened the padlock on the truck door.

  "Guys get the heavy stuff," called Pete, hopping up into the cargo area. "Larry can you help me with the bed."

  "I would," Larry, a guy in a sweatshirt and jeans, said with a yawn. "But my anaemia is acting up."

  Victory roll girl smirked. "Your anaemia is always acting up. Honey, you help Pete."

  Dreadlock guy, who turned out to be named Sam, climbed up. He and Pete started handing out boxes for people to carry upstairs.

  In less than 30 minutes her stuff was out of the truck and in her apartment. Alex could hardly believe it! After they got everything into the apartment, everyone stuck around to help her put everything away. By six o'clock her apartment was organized, and she had a list of everything she needed to go buy at the store, like a microwave, broom, food, and a bunch more stuff.

  "I don't know how to thank y'all," Alex said, looking around her new apartment. Becky, victory roll girl, had even hung Alex's art on the walls.

  The guy who was younger than her in the three piece suit smiled. "You kidding? Dinner's on you, Tex."

  Alex nodded. She felt great about her new apartment, her neighbours, and even the new town. Today had already gone much better than she expected. "You got it! Y'all want pizza or something?"

  Becky crinkled her nose. "The Pizza Hut is not that good. How about Chinese? That place is amazing!"

  Chinese it was. Pete called in the order, and took Alex to go get it. They all filled into Pete's apartment, bringing in extra chairs to watch Iron man and eat. Alex was tired, and sore from driving for three days, but as she climbed into bed that night she couldn't help but think that it hadn't been a terrible first day in Braxton.

  Alex's alarm went off at five o'clock and she bounded out of bed. She had been awake for over an hour with butterflies in her stomach. Today was a big day. This was the first day of a new job as the Collections Manager in a nationally accredited museum, with a well-respected curator, and a fantastic collection. Those kinds of jobs didn't grow on trees! Alex had been fortunate to get a phone interview with the Braxton History Museum, and when they flew her up for a second interview she was flabbergasted. After one hour of talking with her, and showing her the museum, the director, Allen Harris, offered her the position. She had wanted to cry and hug him and the curator, Bill Salvatore, but held it together.

  She was buzzing with nervous energy. The sun hadn't even come up yet, but she was wide awake. Alex pulled on a pair of sweats, a jacket, and her running shoes and prepared for a good long run. At dinner, Pete had told her how to get to a great running trail behind that city park. Alex had been a cross country star in high school, and done pretty well on the college level, but she was not ready for running at altitude. She made it a quarter of a mile before doubling over gasping for air. As she walked slowly back, she pulled up the altitude of Braxton on her phone: 5,397. Idiot, she thought. You can't just go for a run up here when you are from sea level. She would have to work up to it. A little thing like altitude was not about to stop her from doing her favourite thing in the world.

  Time ticked by at an annoyingly slow pace as she waited for when she could leave for work. Alex showered, ate breakfast, researched how to adapt to higher altitudes, and twiddled her thumbs. Her internet was not hooked up yet, and she couldn't turn the moving van in until this afternoon, so there was not much to do. Finally the clock said 7:45. Alex started out of her apartment, and then had to turn around for a jacket. She was mumbling about cold weather as she got onto her bike and set off for the museum that was four blocks away. After taking a wrong turn, she got to the museum a few minutes before eight.

  The Braxton History Museum started out from a collection of artifacts donated to the city in 1950. Braxton wanted to find something to do with the crap they couldn't turn down, and the Braxton History Museum was born. They shoved it in an old city building, hired some people to do something with it, and left them alone. If you asked the city council now, they would say the museum was a regional treasure. It's amazing how sixty years can change someone’s tune. Fifteen years ago corrupt staffs was given the boot, and the current director and curator were hired. Allen Harris hired an exhibits technician and the museum got turned from a cabinet of curiosities to a professional museum that lived up to the standards of the American Association of Museums.

  Alex was not the type to get nervous, but she was nervous! She felt like she was walking into a trial. Nothing mattered but impressing Bill Salvatore. Museums all over the country wanted him as their curator of Western History. He always listened to their offers politely, and then declined. No one knew why he wanted to stay in Braxton, Wyoming of all places, but he did. His name tended to be whispered in museum circles like he was the great white whale.

  Alex had been in such a hurry to get to work, now she was standing at the base of the steps staring up at the door. Then, she saw a tall, thin man with thinning black hair, wearing a collared shirt and sweater, come towards the door from the gift shop. It was Bill Salvitore. He was smiling warmly at her through the glass doors.

  He opened them. "Morning, Alexandra. Big day isn't it?"

  Alex smiled back nervously and hurried past him with a mumbled good morning.

  "You don't need to be nervous. I'm not a reclusive hermit like people think I am. I know talent when I see it, and you've got it."

  "Really?" She wanted to die! Bill Salvitore thought she had talent.

  He waved for her to follow him, and she did. They went through the galleries, and down into the basement where their collections room was. Bill opened the door to reveal their office. The room was a large rectangle filled with shelves and cabinets. Two work stations were wedged into a corner. When she had been shown the collections room before, she had been in awe of how organized it was. Everything was perfectly packaged, and placed on a shelf. There were no precarious piles, or over stacked shelves. There had also only been one desk. Bill's desk was the only sign of chaos in an orderly room. His papers and books were strewn on his desk. The cabinets above his desk were open and ink cartridges, binders, and office supplies were thrown in haphazardly.

  Bill gestured to her new work station, which was a rectangular plastic folding table, and the chair was a wooden dining room chair.

  "We'll order you a desk, and chair once you pick one out." He ducked under his desk and rummaged for something.

  Alex stood there, not knowing what she was supposed to do. "Mr. Salvitore-"

  A hand appeared above the desk and batted away her offensive words. "Bill, pleas
e, Alexandra. We are colleagues. I may be your boss, but I'm not your professor. Aha! Found it!"

  He reappeared holding a giant catalog. He walked the few feet to Alex's table and set it down. Alex looked at it too. It was an office supplies catalog.

  "This is for the local place. They can order anything in here."

  "What's the price limit?"

  Bill bit his lip and thought about it. "You know, I didn't ask. Just don't break the bank. Allen will tell you if it's too much. He's very blunt."

  "Is he here yet?" Alex asked. "I would like to say hi before I get started."

  "He's never here before 8:30," Bill said with another wave of the hand. "He'll stick his head in when he gets here."

  Bill went and sat down at his desk. "Let me check my emails and then I can start showing you the ropes. We've got a lot of ground to cover. Your log in information is on the sticky note stuck to the monitor. I imagine you've miss internet these past few days. Feel free to get on Facebook or whatever you young people do these days."

  Alex smiled as she logged into the computer. Bill was being so nice to her. The collections room looked well organized. She was getting to pick out her own desk and chair. Excitement at the prospect of learning how a new museum worked was coursing through her. This was going to be a great day!

  At 8:45 Bill was still answering emails that he said were from people asking trivial questions they could find answers to on Wikipedia if they wanted. Allen opened the door to the collections room. He was younger than Bill, probably 55 or so, and always smiling. Alex remembered he was a quirky sort of man when she came up for the interview, and yet he always seemed professional.

  "Alexandra!" he said with a big smile. "Big day! Let's go talk in my office for a while. Bill always spends most of the morning answering emails from the great unwashed."

  "Ha ha," muttered Bill.

  Alex followed Allen back upstairs, through the galleries, and back to the gift shop. His office was at the back of it. He gestured for her to have a seat in a comfortable looking winged back chair. Since the museum was housed in an old building, the gift shop and the director's office had nice high ceilings. Allen had decorated his office with traditional furniture for a director's office, but the accessories around were a bit strange. In front of his name plate was a South American short spear. A small collection of African masks hung on the wall. There was also a copy of an Impressionist painting hanging behind him of what Alex though was a Dega ballerina.