Read Online Fat Cat Spreads Out by Janet Cantrell - Free Book Online Page B

soon. She had me drop her off at the shop.”
    â€œShe went in to work?”
    â€œSaid she wanted to help out with the baking.”
    â€œThe poor kid. I wonder if her parents will come around.”
    â€œI hope so.”
    Julie and Jay showed up just before lunchtime to help in the booth. Naturally, as soon as they arrived, there was a lull. So instead, they wandered off together to see the sights.
    By noon, both women were starving.
    â€œCharity,” Anna confided, leaning her head next to Chase’s while ringing up a large sale, “I’m going to drop if I don’t get something to eat.”
    Chase grinned. “We can’t have that. I’ll run over to the food trailers and get something. Do you know what you want?”
    â€œSurprise me. Anything but funnel cakes. I don’t want extra powdered sugar all over our floor.”
    â€œDoes Inger have lunch?”
    â€œShe said she just wanted crackers, but I left some chicken soup for her to heat up.”
    Chase hurried out of the booth and down the midway. The beautiful, unseasonably warm weather was holding.
    She had worn a knit jersey top, rust-colored and lighter than the sweater she wore yesterday. She brought along her suede jacket, which had served her well the night before. In the back of the booth, Chase had spied a heavy cotton dashiki in bright kente cloth that Anna had stashed for herself for later.
    For now, the sun bounced off the tarps of the vendors’ booths, glinting off the white paint of the closed door to the butter sculpture building. The faintly dusty smell of the sawdust rose from her feet. Fallen autumn leaves had mingled with the sawdust. In places, she could even pick out brilliant reds from the maple behind their own booth.
    The armed police guards were still around. Chase was reminded to be aware of her surroundings and keep her guard up.
    She slowed a bit when she heard sobbing between thebutter building and the one next to it, that of a hawker of handmade silver jewelry.
    The large sculptor, Karl Minsky, stormed out from between the buildings and strode away without noticing Chase. He was followed by his daughter, Mara.
    Mara dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and almost stumbled into Chase.
    â€œIs something wrong? Can I help you?” Chase asked.
    â€œYes. And no. I don’t think you can help us.”
    Chase took Mara’s arm gently and guided her toward a seat near the food trucks. “Can I get you something to drink?”
    â€œMaybe a soda,” she said between sniffs.
    The nearest line for sodas was short, so Chase wasn’t gone long. When she got back, Mara seemed more composed. “Do you want to tell me about it? It might help to talk.”
    â€œI’m so frightened.” Mara sipped her drink. “Daddy had a big argument with that man, right outside the main exhibition room.”
    â€œWhat man?” Chase asked, although she was pretty sure she knew.
    â€œThe one that’s dead. I’ll bet a lot of people heard them arguing. And now he’s been killed.”
    â€œJust because they had words doesn’t mean your father killed him.” She felt a need to comfort the poor girl.
    â€œHe was so mad.” Mara whimpered. She gave a couple of gulping sobs.
    Chase wondered if the girl thought her father hadkilled Oake. The next time she saw Detective Olson, she would check and see if he knew about Minsky’s threat.
    â€œI’m so sorry to bother you with this. Please forgive me.”
    Given his intensity when she’d met him earlier, Chase could easily picture Karl enraged. It was very possible he was the killer. But she soothed Mara as best she could and hurried on to complete her errand as Mara wandered off, nursing her drink.
    Anna probably wondered what was taking so long. Chase picked the shortest line, fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, quickly grabbed two, and scurried back toward the Bar None booth.
    When she was