Hi, Sheriff John Withers here.
It’s a cloudy day here in Bakerton. I grabbed a quick breakfast at Scotty’s Diner and had a chat with Millie. You know Millie, of course. She’s the daughter of my chess-playing friend Brad Moody, who runs a small logging business up on Copper Ridge.
You’d like Copper Ridge. The beautiful copper birch trees reaching for the sky, the sun dappling through. It’s a shame they’re lopping down an awful lot of them to make way for properties to accommodate the rich folks who are forever moving into the area. Copper Ridge West was first. A collection of forty high-spec residences designed by the famous architect Marvin Franklin. His widow Martha still lives up there, a half century later, ruling the roost. Don’t get me wrong. Martha’s a good woman, and she sure helped us out in the case of the General. If you don’t know the story, I respectfully suggest you read the book about it called ‘Bakerton’, by my friend Phil. I talk to him a lot, so he can keep writing about our escapades down here in Bakerton.
He also told you about the Western Lake. My, that is a place for sore eyes. It was built by Hiram Baker (who named the town, as you might have guessed), and it would have been just the place for that artist Bob Ross to put onto canvas. I love the Lake, and me and Judith get down there as often as we can. I try not to think about what happened down there one time, but I believe Phil has put it into his next book. Suffice to say, murder was on somebody’s mind that day!
I gotta close now. Dawg is back from patrol, and with any luck he has brought in some muffins made by his wife Kitty. A man can dream!
See you next time, friend.
philclinkerwrites 