Read Online Cold Turkey by Shelley Freydont - Free Book Online Page A

of and throw him over a cliff or bridge or whatever?”
    “It does seem awfully complicated, doesn’t it?”
    “Yeah, but someone who can juggle a big Ponzi scheme for several years could pull this off in his sleep.”
    “You think Pudge—Lyle—is the mastermind?”
    “Or Max. Or the other two.”
    “Why did you decide to get involved?”
    “Because I knew you’d badger me until I did.”
    “Are you going to tell Bill?”
    “When I know more. Now go home. I need sleep.”
    • • •
    Liv slept straight through until the alarm woke her at six the next morning. She rolled over and groaned. Pushed slowly to a sit on the edge of the bed. She hurt in places she hadn’t hurt in years.
    Whiskey jumped at her feet. “Arf.”
    “Okay, okay. Sorry I slept so long.” She pulled on her mucklucks, a new catalogue purchase to accessorize her growing “country” wardrobe, tied a robe around her flannel pajamas, and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to let Whiskey out.
    He shot past her and disappeared into the shrubs. She closed the door and waited for him with her forehead resting against the door frame. Her body was moving slowly this morning, but her brain had already ratcheted to high gear.
    She wondered if Chaz had gone to bed last night or continued to research the development company. Had he told Bill? Was there a way to get this settled so they could move on to a peaceful Thanksgiving?
    Whiskey was back in a few minutes and Liv went off to take a very hot, very long shower.
    Forty-five minutes later a much-revived Liv and a nourished and energetic Whiskey were making their way across the green toward the Apple of My Eye Bakery.
    The bakery was owned by Fred and Dolly Hunnicutt. Dolly was famous for miles around for her baked goods. She kept everyone well fed and satisfied. Fred was an efficient traffic manager. Both were friendly, supportive, and didn’t mind a bit of gossip. Liv bet Dolly had gotten an earful from Fred when he’d gotten home.
    And soon everyone else would know, too. Celebration Bay thrived on its gossip as well as sticky buns and apple cider. The less you said about something, the more exaggerated it became. The idea of not saying anything was not an option. News always got out. And Liv had learned the hard way not to fight it. She just had to spin it to prevent panic. This time she didn’t even get the chance.
    Dolly met her at the door of the bakery. “Oh my goodness, Liv. Have you heard?”
    “What? I was there.”
    “No. Last night, Bill arrested one of those marathoners for murder.”
    “He did? But—”
    “It was after you left the Inn last night?”
    “How did you know I was at the Inn?”
    Dolly gave Liv one of her when-will-you-ever-learn looks. “Corinne told me when she was in getting bread this morning. She also told me about the arrest.”
    “Did she say which one he arrested?”
    “The one they call Pudge.”

Chapter 8
    “I didn’t arrest him,” Bill said as he took a slice of Dolly’s pumpkin nut bread that Ted had arranged on a plate on Liv’s desk.
    “Dolly said . . .”
    “Aroo,” Whiskey barked, recognizing the name of the benefactor of the turkey-flavored dog biscuit he was chewing from his place on his doggie bed.
    “Well, Dolly was wrong. I took him in for questioning. He has an alibi.”
    “Rats,” said Liv.
    “You wanted him to be guilty?”
    “Well, not really. But that would take care of a lot of problems, like a murderer wandering freely about town. And the fact that— Has Chaz happened to talk to you about—”
    “Yep.”
    “Talk to you about what?” Ted asked, putting down his tea and giving them his full attention.
    Bill pushed his fingers through his curly hair, which immediately sprung up again when he was done. “Since it’s not a part of this investigation, I guess I can tell.” He brought Ted up to speed on what Chaz had discovered the night before. “I told him to keep searching. I would really like this to be one of