Read Online Grilling the Subject by Daryl Wood Gerber - Free Book Online

of us. She, too, was dressed in pink and white: pink skirt, white peasant blouse. “Is it true? Please say it isn’t.”
    I set Tigger on the floor and gave his rump a pat. “Go. Play.”
    â€œPepper Pritchett poked her nose in a few minutes ago.” Bailey pointed out the front door. Pepper owns the beading boutique called Beaders of Paradise across the way. Her daughter is Cinnamon.
    â€œShe is such a gossip,” Aunt Vera snipped.
    Bailey agreed. “She said your father—”
    â€œPepper is telling the truth,” I cut in. “Dad is a suspect, but he has an alibi.”
    â€œVerifiable?” Bailey asked.
    I threw her an acid look. “He. Did. Not. Do. This.”
    â€œNo, of course not, but, you know, Ronald Gump said he saw—”
    â€œSomeone running, not
doing
the deed. Besides, he’s getting on in years.”
    â€œI resent that,” my aunt said. “We’re the same age.”
    â€œHe’s a number of years older than you and looks it,” I countered. My shoulders slumped as the shock of the morning sapped me of energy. “He says he awoke from the smell of smoke, but for all we know, he could’ve been half asleep and dreaming about someone in a red plaid jacket.”
    â€œRed plaid jacket?” Aunt Vera said. “Your father has—”
    I held up a hand. “Yes, he used to own a red plaid jacket, but Lola donated it to Goodwill.” I added that Cinnamon had asked Dad to provide the receipt for the donation.
    â€œThat won’t prove anything,” Bailey said. “I give to Goodwill all the time. I never write down exactly what I donate.”
    â€œCinnamon seemed to think it would help his case.”
    â€œC-case!” my aunt sputtered. “Oh my.” She withdrew atarot deck from the pocket of her caftan and returned to the vintage table. She flipped up three cards.
    â€œNot now, Aunt Vera,” I said, but she wouldn’t listen. Her gaze moved back and forth as she silently reviewed the reading. I didn’t want to know what the cards revealed and told her so. “Don’t go to the dark side,” I warned her. “Dad is innocent. I reminded Cinnamon that there are more people who might have wanted Sylvia dead.” Though I liked Ava Judge and others in the neighborhood, I wasn’t willing to write them off as suspects.
    â€œDon’t forget that Shane person,” my aunt said. “He bought a house on Sylvia’s street. He’s probably as upset about the noise and hoo-ha as your father. And then there’s—”
    â€œEnough speculating. We need to let in customers. Remember, we’re here to help folks have happy days. Sunny days. Turn that frown upside down,” I commanded like a camp counselor. “We’ll discuss this later.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œNo!” I couldn’t help glancing at the cards my aunt had turned up, none of them good. Like Scarlett O’Hara, I would think about that
tomorrow
. Or certainly later in the day. Business as usual, for now. No hoodoo-voodoo, mind-blowing downer thoughts. I hurried to the front door and whipped it open. A cool breeze rushed in, as did a flurry of new customers. “Good morning,” I chimed.
    A few echoed my greeting.
    â€œJenna!” Katie bustled down the breezeway that connected the shop to The Nook Café, her toque atilt, her chef’s coat unbuttoned. The yellow gingham dress she wore beneath the coat looked rumpled, as if she’d grabbed it from a laundry pile. “There you are.”
    I am fairly tall; Katie is taller and bigger all over. She swooped me into a hug. Her wild curls batted my face. Usually Katie is a laugher, but no whooping chortles were popping out of her right now. In fact, she sounded close to tears when she said, “I heard the news.”
    â€œWe’re not discussing it.”
    â€œOkay. Got it. You bet.” She held me