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This is the opening of the first draft of the mystery novel I am currently working on. At this point, it has no title. I thought you might enjoy a sample of my current writing.

Jim Waterman stuck out his hand, “I was told that you wanted to see me, sheriff.”

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Sheriff Larsen said.

“Thanks, I was just over at the undertaker’s, and he told me you want to see me.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you stopped by. Why don’t you have a seat,” the sheriff pointed at a chair.

Jim sat down and looked at the sheriff, “What’s this all about?”

“I believe the hunting accident wasn’t an accident. I think your brother was killed because of what he put in the paper. It upset some people. I wanted to see you because I want to have a full autopsy done. If you go ahead and bury him, his death will be ruled a hunting accident. I won’t go into all the rigmarole of the law. I suspect it came about because if you find someone shot to death in the woods during hunting season, it was automatically called a hunting accident. To do a full autopsy, you, the next of kin, will have to request it.”

Jim paused for a moment, “What makes you think it was in an accident?”

The sheriff ran his hands over his graying hair, “I’ve seen my share of hunting accidents. Your brother was found in a stand of hardwoods, so there were a ton of leaves on the ground. We had a wet spell just before the deer season opened, so the ground was soft. It was windy the day he was found, and some of the leaves had blown away. The whole area had been trampled before I got there, but it looked to me like there were drag marks just up to your brother’s shoes. And that didn’t make sense either. Nobody wears dress shoes to hunt. He had on blaze orange, but the rest of his clothing wasn’t that of a hunter either. He had no rifle. What can you tell me about your brother?”

“My brother was 23 years older than me. He was the son of my father’s first wife. She died of cancer. I came along with my father’s second wife. He was obviously an adult when I came along. He was more like a second father to me, but I don’t remember him being a hunter. He loved to fish, and that was about his only outdoor sport.”

“I remember him writing pieces about fishing in the paper. You’re right. I don’t remember anything about hunting.”

Jim smiled at the sheriff, “You’ve got me curious. I’ll agree to an autopsy. What about his wife? Shouldn’t she have a say?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“They divorced. It happened really quickly. It was final less than a month before he died.”