Read Online Gluten for Punishment by Nancy J. Parra - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nancy J. Parra
Ads: Link
what happened?”
“I parked in the lot and didn’t hear anything. I mean, I’m a girl alone at four in
the morning, I listen.”
“You opened the back door . . .”
“I unlocked the back, turned on the kitchen lights and locked the door behind me.
The rest was the usual stuff.”
“Like what, exactly?”
I sighed. The metal office chair was not as comfortable as I remember. Maybe it was
my nerves getting to me or maybe I didn’t want everyone in town to know how boring
my life was. “I pulled out the dough I made the night before to get it warmed up.
Then I came in here, turned on my computer, and did about thirty minutes of paperwork.
Wait, I went out and made some coffee after I turned on my computer. Then I came back
and did paperwork and checked my online orders.”
“Let me see if I have this straight. You got here around four and were in your office
until four-thirty.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I worked in the kitchen from four-thirty until six. There’s actually
a schedule hanging up on the kitchen wall if you want to look at it.”
“A schedule?”
“Sure, I plan out what I’m making the night before based on Internet orders and sales.
Sometimes it changes if I get a rush online order but not this morning.”
“Sounds exceedingly organized.”
I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips. Was he suspicious of my lists? Geez. “I not
only bake but run the front. I need to know exactly how much time I can devote to
each recipe.”
“And while you were back here, you didn’t hear a thing . . .”
I sent him a quick, closed-mouth smile. “I like to blast my music. It keeps me awake
and from worrying about being alone.”
“You Play loud music?”
“It’s not like I’m bothering the neighbors.”
“I see.” He wrote more things in his notepad. I tried not to roll my eyes. I hate
it when people judge me. In a small town, everyone judges you. It was one of the reasons
I had left. Right now I was having second thoughts about coming back.
He brought his gaze up. “Then what happened?”
“I filled the display case around five-thirty. Made fresh coffee around six forty-five,
and, at seven, I opened the shades, turned the sign around, and unlocked the front
door. That’s when I noticed the guy in the horse trough.”
“And all that time you heard nothing.”
I scrunched my forehead and frowned. “Wait, no, I did hear something. It had to have
been around five-thirty because I went out to get the display trays. I heard like
a thump or something.”
“A thump?” He sat up straighter.
“I don’t know . . . it was like something hit the store window. I looked out but didn’t
see anything. It was pretty dark. The streetlamps don’t exactly shine bright.”
“Did you call 911?”
My eyes widened for a second and I shrugged. “Why? It was only a thud. It certainly
didn’t sound like a gun going off or a car backfiring. It could have been anything.”
“What did you think it was?”
“I don’t know, that a bird or something hit the front window. Like I said, I looked
out and didn’t see anything. I went back to work.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“Nothing. Seriously, I opened the front door and spotted the guy in the trough at
seven. I might have said something like, ‘Hey, get off the sculpture.’ But he didn’t
move. Then I noticed the paint can.”
“The paint can?”
“Yes, there was a can of spray paint on the ground next to the guy’s hand. That’s
when I noticed the paint on the front of my store.”
“How did that make you feel?” He looked down his long, thin nose at me.
“What are you, a therapist?”
“Answer the question.”
It was hard not to get snarky. Seriously, what did it matter how I felt? “I guess
I was mad someone would do that to my storefront.” He wrote my words down. My nerves
picked up. Did he think I had killed the guy over spray paint? Crazy, I lived in
“I parked in the lot and didn’t hear anything. I mean, I’m a girl alone at four in
the morning, I listen.”
“You opened the back door . . .”
“I unlocked the back, turned on the kitchen lights and locked the door behind me.
The rest was the usual stuff.”
“Like what, exactly?”
I sighed. The metal office chair was not as comfortable as I remember. Maybe it was
my nerves getting to me or maybe I didn’t want everyone in town to know how boring
my life was. “I pulled out the dough I made the night before to get it warmed up.
Then I came in here, turned on my computer, and did about thirty minutes of paperwork.
Wait, I went out and made some coffee after I turned on my computer. Then I came back
and did paperwork and checked my online orders.”
“Let me see if I have this straight. You got here around four and were in your office
until four-thirty.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I worked in the kitchen from four-thirty until six. There’s actually
a schedule hanging up on the kitchen wall if you want to look at it.”
“A schedule?”
“Sure, I plan out what I’m making the night before based on Internet orders and sales.
Sometimes it changes if I get a rush online order but not this morning.”
“Sounds exceedingly organized.”
I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips. Was he suspicious of my lists? Geez. “I not
only bake but run the front. I need to know exactly how much time I can devote to
each recipe.”
“And while you were back here, you didn’t hear a thing . . .”
I sent him a quick, closed-mouth smile. “I like to blast my music. It keeps me awake
and from worrying about being alone.”
“You Play loud music?”
“It’s not like I’m bothering the neighbors.”
“I see.” He wrote more things in his notepad. I tried not to roll my eyes. I hate
it when people judge me. In a small town, everyone judges you. It was one of the reasons
I had left. Right now I was having second thoughts about coming back.
He brought his gaze up. “Then what happened?”
“I filled the display case around five-thirty. Made fresh coffee around six forty-five,
and, at seven, I opened the shades, turned the sign around, and unlocked the front
door. That’s when I noticed the guy in the horse trough.”
“And all that time you heard nothing.”
I scrunched my forehead and frowned. “Wait, no, I did hear something. It had to have
been around five-thirty because I went out to get the display trays. I heard like
a thump or something.”
“A thump?” He sat up straighter.
“I don’t know . . . it was like something hit the store window. I looked out but didn’t
see anything. It was pretty dark. The streetlamps don’t exactly shine bright.”
“Did you call 911?”
My eyes widened for a second and I shrugged. “Why? It was only a thud. It certainly
didn’t sound like a gun going off or a car backfiring. It could have been anything.”
“What did you think it was?”
“I don’t know, that a bird or something hit the front window. Like I said, I looked
out and didn’t see anything. I went back to work.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“Nothing. Seriously, I opened the front door and spotted the guy in the trough at
seven. I might have said something like, ‘Hey, get off the sculpture.’ But he didn’t
move. Then I noticed the paint can.”
“The paint can?”
“Yes, there was a can of spray paint on the ground next to the guy’s hand. That’s
when I noticed the paint on the front of my store.”
“How did that make you feel?” He looked down his long, thin nose at me.
“What are you, a therapist?”
“Answer the question.”
It was hard not to get snarky. Seriously, what did it matter how I felt? “I guess
I was mad someone would do that to my storefront.” He wrote my words down. My nerves
picked up. Did he think I had killed the guy over spray paint? Crazy, I lived in
Similar Books
