Read Online Berry the Hatchet by Peg Cochran - Free Book Online

hand. “Did you stop for gas? Or a cup of coffee?”
    â€œI’m afraid not.” Nancy sat up straighter in her seat. “I just drove around. I popped in on Preston at the Inn, but didn’t stay long—he was busy.” She waved a hand inthe air. “Then I thought I’d see some of the sights so I just . . . drove around.”
    â€œWhat about you?” Monica turned to Gina.
    â€œI was at the shop getting ready for the Winter Walk.”
    â€œSurely someone came in and can vouch that—”
    â€œI’m afraid not. There were no customers all afternoon. I was hoping things would pick up when the Walk started.”
    â€œMaybe someone saw you through the window?”
    â€œI was in and out of the stockroom—besides, how would we ever find the person? Put an ad in the paper and advertise the fact that I’m a suspect in a murder case?” Gina’s hand jerked, and Mittens darted away.
    Monica held up a hand. “I don’t exactly think you’re a suspect—”
    â€œOf course I am. You heard the questions Detective Stevens asked. Who’s to say that Nancy and I didn’t know about Preston’s two-timing ways before this afternoon? Maybe I confronted him, we had an argument and . . .” She made a slashing motion across her throat.
    Nancy shuddered.
    Gina turned and pointed a finger at her. “And who’s to say Nancy didn’t come here on purpose to have it out with Preston, and her anger got the best of her and . . .” Again, she drew her finger across her throat.
    â€œThe whole idea that either of us would . . . it’s just ridiculous.” Nancy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Gina.
    â€œI’m playing devil’s advocate and trying to look at it from Detective Stevens’s perspective,” Gina said. “We need to be prepared, that’s all.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Monica was up early after a restless night. Even though she knew it was ridiculous that anyone would think her mother capable of murder, it had unsettled her. Mittens watched her from the warmth of the bed while she dressed in some jeans and a cable-knit sweater. The kitten followed her downstairs, weaving in and out between Monica’s legs as she headed to the kitchen. Her first order of business was to make coffee—she yawned as she filled the pot with water and poured it into the machine.
    Within minutes, coffee began trickling into the carafe, filling the kitchen with its enticing scent. While she waited, Monica got out the ingredients she would need to make Sassamanash Farm’s signature cranberry streusel bread—sugar, butter, flour, spices and the cranberries that she’d stocked in the freezer at the end of the harvest season.
    Monica had just finished measuring the flour when the last drops of coffee trickled out of the machine. She filled a large mug and set it on the table next to her bowl.
    Within half an hour, Monica had her first batch of bread in the oven. She took a moment to sit down while she finished the last sips of her coffee. Next she would start on some muffins and then some cranberry salsa.
    Her baking finished, Monica got out the straw baskets she used to carry the goodies down to the farm store. She had no sooner put them on the table than Mittens jumped into one. The kitten peeked over the side, her tail swishing back and forth and the look on her face plainly saying that she, not Monica, was the rightful owner of the basket and Monica should just try to evict her.
    Monica laughed. “You think that’s yours, do you?”
    Mittens’s meow was the answer.
    â€œCome on, you little minx. I’ve got to get going.”
    Monica went to scoop the kitten out of the basket, but Mittens nimbly jumped out of it and into the other basket. Monica laughed and took the opportunity to line the vacant one with a piece of