Read Online As Gouda as Dead by Avery Aames - Free Book Online Page B

I went to the pub after you did. That’s where I called you from. Nobody would say anything. But I knew.” Rebecca sighed. “Poor Tim. He was such a nice guy. I can’t imagine anyone wanting him dead. C’mon, tell me, what happened? Who did it?”
    Before I could answer, she pelted me with another string of questions. I pointed out that we had to attend to our customers, but she couldn’t be deterred. She assured me our hushed conversation wouldn’t squelch their excitement. None were standing at the cheese counter or by the register. They were roaming the new displays of cheese platters and wineglasses. My cousin Matthew suggested that if we increased the amount of giftware we sold in the store, we would boost the sale of our edible goods, not to mention that selling wineglasses would encourage customers to mosey into the wine annex. The wine-and-cheese-pairing event set for Thursday was nearly sold out. Thirty couples and a few singles would come for an education.
    Rebecca gestured to the customers. “Look at them,” she whispered. “Everyone in town is lit up with love. Those two over there”—she pointed at a man standing with a woman who looked younger than him by a good ten years—“did a Valentine photo shoot at Snapshots & More.” Snapshots was a boutique photography store that offered all sorts of cute memory gimmicks, including photos and ceramic handprints of children and pets. “And those two?” She pointed toward an elderly couple. “They renewed their vows beside the tower in the Village Green, exactly at the strike of noon, which is when they got married sixty years ago. Grandmère presided over the ceremony. How cool is that? I’m telling you, nothing—not even murder—is going to throw a wrench into the town’s festivities. Now, talk.”
    Quickly I summarized what we had discovered at Pace Hill Farm. Tim’s truck, the button from his shirt, and Tim dead in the vat of milk.
    â€œDoes Urso have a suspect?”
    â€œViolet Walden—”
    â€œShe did it?”
    â€œNo. She was at the pub with Paige Alpaugh. Violet saw Tim drive off in his truck. She said Jawbone Jones chased him. Ray Pfeiffer, who was also at the pub with his wife, backed that up. He claimed Jawbone and Tim had an argument. He saw Jawbone poke Tim in the chest. Ray doesn’t know what they might have been arguing about, but like Violet, he saw Jawbone take off after Tim.”
    â€œHmm.” Rebecca toyed with a strand of hair.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDo you know Jawbone very well?” she asked.
    â€œI’ve only interacted with him here. I know, in addition to Vermont Shepherd Invierno, he likes Fiscalini Bandaged Cheddar.” The cheese was a product of Fiscalini Farms in Modesto, California, and literally sang with the ripe notes of butter and sweet grass.
    â€œI went into his gun store once.”
    For some reason the notion that my darling, formerly Amish assistant had ventured into a gun shop shocked me. I always thought that the Amish didn’t bear arms; they won’t serve in the military or law enforcement or any kind of career that requires them to use guns.
    â€œDon’t look so stunned,” Rebecca went on. “Guns are not
verboten
to the Amish.”
    â€œThey’re not forbidden?”
    â€œHeavens, no. We have them to kill pests. I know a farmer who uses a gun to get rid of groundhogs. They can ruin a crop. And I even know some Amish who like to hunt for sport. The Amish simply won’t shoot people.”
    Wow. I had no clue. “So you’ve fired a gun?”
    â€œMe? No!” She shook her head vehemently. “My father never let me handle one, but a few months ago, I was concerned about what I was seeing on the news, you know, all the attacks on schools and at airports, and I was curious to know more about guns.”
    I tried my best not to watch the news except