Read Online Freezer I'll Shoot (A Vintage Kitchen Mystery) by Victoria Hamilton - Free Book Online Page A

for her okay. Of course Hoppy promptly went nuts, and tackled his pant leg. Jaymie grabbed her little dog by the collar, and smiled up at the two, noting that Zack was compressing his lips in an attempt not to smile.
    “I’m so sorry. He thinks he’s a Doberman. He wouldn’t have done that if I had asked you in,” she said, pointedly, “but right now he thinks you’re an intruder.”
    “Jaymie Leighton, this is Chief Horace Ledbetter,” Zack said. “Chief of the Queensville Police Department.”
    “Hi, Chief Ledbetter,” Jaymie said, letting go of Hoppy, who, now that he knew these were not intruders but invited guests, sniffed politely around their feet and waggled his body.
    The man observed her for a long moment, then said, “You’re the little lady who keeps finding bodies. Our best bet for peace in Queensville is exiling you, it seems.”
    She stood still for a moment, hand stuck out to shake, and mouth open. Then the big man’s face wrinkled in what could be mistaken for a smile, and she relaxed. He was joking. “Wrong place, wrong time.” She dropped her hand to her side.
    He bent down, grunting and puffing over his belly while he scratched Hoppy’s neck and got a hand licking for his efforts. Straightening with an effort, his shrewd eyes took in her cottage and he nodded. “This is the kinda place I’d like to retire to.”
    “I like it. It’s been in our family for a long time.” She glanced between the two men, still wondering what was going on. Were they there officially, or what?
    “Why don’t we have a seat, Miss Leighton?” he said.
    “Would you like a coffee?” she asked, taking them both in.
    “No,” Zack said, and at the same instant Chief Ledbetter said, “Yes.”
    “Okay, have a seat at the kitchen table. Just swipe that stuff away,” she said, about the papers and clipboard.
    The chief glanced at the heading on the paper, which read “Column Ideas for
Howler
.” “Ah, you’re a writer?”
    “Not really,” she said, getting some mugs down from the cupboard. “Or . . . well, I’m trying to write a first column. I’m . . . I want to be a food writer, I guess you’d call it. I’m going to have a column in the
Howler
called ‘Vintage Eats.’
If
I can ever write it. That’s a big ‘if.’” She sighed and got the cream out of the fridge, adding it to the tray that she then brought over to the table.
    “‘Vintage Eats’? What would that encompass?”
    Warming up, now that she was on familiar ground, she poured both men coffee and talked a little about her idea for a column on vintage recipes and kitchen utensils.
    “My wife would read that,” the chief said. “She loves cooking. She’s almost as good a cook as my mom was,” he said and patted his belly. “As you can tell. You and your family had this cottage long?”
    “Always,” she said, sitting down opposite him. “My great-grandfather built it, back when this was all just woods.”
    “When I was a kid, the Ice House here on the island was a spooky abandoned building. We used to row over here at night and hide out in it smoking cigars we’d stolen from my dad,” he said, his bulbous nose becoming red as he chuckled.
    “I was just there the other night, at the restaurant! I was thinking of doing my first article on the Ice House, and ice harvesting, with a recipe for old-fashioned ice cream!”
    “Young Zachary, here, says he was there, too! You two shared a table, so I understand,” the chief said, his broad face wreathed in a smile. “So you really find that stuff interesting? My wife and I had our thirtieth anniversary party there in the spring. They’ve got quite the display of tools and implements!”
    Zack, despite saying he didn’t want coffee, busied himself with fixing a cup.
    “Actually, Garnet and Ruby were explaining it all to me, the ice cutting and harvesting, and ice chests, and all that.”
    “Really? I can’t say I know a lot about it. Especially the tools and all