Read Online Guess Who's Coming to Die? by Patricia Sprinkle - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Sprinkle
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should she lie?”
“Maybe she dropped them off the edge.” I drew her in that direction by the elbow. We peered down into streaming darkness but didn’t see a single butt. I gave the door a worried look. “I hope the chief will think to check for them.” Charlie wasn’t known for his thoroughness in investigating statements.
“Leave it alone, Mac,” Cindy advised. “You know Pop doesn’t like you getting involved in things like this. Chief Muggins can find out what happened to Willena.” She gave a short little laugh. “And if he doesn’t, do we really care?”
She had a point. I was tired, I had enough on my plate already, and I didn’t know Willena Kenan well enough to have any of the insider knowledge that in the past had helped me find a solution to a case. Furthermore, while I firmly believe in justice for all persons, I hadn’t liked Willena enough to expend much energy in doing Charlie’s job for him.
With relief, I realized that this time there wasn’t a single reason for me to do what my boys call “meddling in murder.”
“It’s all Charlie’s,” I said cheerfully, following Cindy out into the rain.
We shared her umbrella as we wended our way through the parking lot. It wasn’t a great distance to her SUV, but since she is five-eight to my five-two, I got pretty damp. Especially since, on the way, she fumbled and fumbled in her purse, turning the umbrella this way and that until it occasionally dumped rain down my neck or on my shoulder. Although the air was warm, the rain had fallen from a great height and was chilly. I shivered and looked forward to getting into the car.
“I can’t find my keys,” she confessed when we stood dripping beside the big vehicle. She peered down at our feet. “You don’t see them, do you?”
Siamese twins joined at the umbrella handle, we circled her car. No keys gleamed on the wet gravel. She gave a huff of disgust. “I must have dropped them somewhere inside. Here, you keep the umbrella, and I’ll dash—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I took a firm hold of her arm. “You’ll get soaked and probably die of pneumonia. Then I’ll have to raise your kids. I’d rather come with you.”
By the time we got to the door, I was soggy from shoes to knees and my hair was plastered to my forehead. “The investment club may have had richer new members,” I quipped as she held the heavy front door for me, “but it has never had a wetter one.”
We were laughing together—and I was thinking how good it felt to finally be getting to know this daughter-in-law well enough to laugh with her — when we entered the hall and saw Chief Muggins standing there, glaring at us.
We stopped laughing at once, embarrassed to be caught carrying on while Willena lay dead down the hall. On the other hand, anybody who has been through a trauma knows that without laughter, you lose your mind.
Cindy stammered, “I-I’m sorry I . . . I-I’ve left my keys somewhere.”
The chief’s eyes narrowed. He went to the door of the ladies’ room and called, “Hey, Hank, you still got those keys you found?”
“Right here.” A deputy handed them out, encased in a plastic bag.
“Are these them?” The chief knew no more about grammar than he did about criminal investigation.
I caught Cindy’s elbow, willing her not to say a word, but she’d already exclaimed, “Yes!” and reached for them. When he pulled them back so she couldn’t touch them, with a gleam in his eye, her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Where did you find them?”
“Right where you left them,” Chief Muggins said with satisfaction. “Under Miss Kenan’s body.”
7
Cindy’s eyes widened and her face turned white as chalk. I felt the world start a slow spin, and wasn’t sure I could keep my balance.
“You can go on home now, Judge,” the chief said to me, jerking his head toward the door. “Mrs. Yarbrough and I need to chat a little longer.”
“I’m not
“Maybe she dropped them off the edge.” I drew her in that direction by the elbow. We peered down into streaming darkness but didn’t see a single butt. I gave the door a worried look. “I hope the chief will think to check for them.” Charlie wasn’t known for his thoroughness in investigating statements.
“Leave it alone, Mac,” Cindy advised. “You know Pop doesn’t like you getting involved in things like this. Chief Muggins can find out what happened to Willena.” She gave a short little laugh. “And if he doesn’t, do we really care?”
She had a point. I was tired, I had enough on my plate already, and I didn’t know Willena Kenan well enough to have any of the insider knowledge that in the past had helped me find a solution to a case. Furthermore, while I firmly believe in justice for all persons, I hadn’t liked Willena enough to expend much energy in doing Charlie’s job for him.
With relief, I realized that this time there wasn’t a single reason for me to do what my boys call “meddling in murder.”
“It’s all Charlie’s,” I said cheerfully, following Cindy out into the rain.
We shared her umbrella as we wended our way through the parking lot. It wasn’t a great distance to her SUV, but since she is five-eight to my five-two, I got pretty damp. Especially since, on the way, she fumbled and fumbled in her purse, turning the umbrella this way and that until it occasionally dumped rain down my neck or on my shoulder. Although the air was warm, the rain had fallen from a great height and was chilly. I shivered and looked forward to getting into the car.
“I can’t find my keys,” she confessed when we stood dripping beside the big vehicle. She peered down at our feet. “You don’t see them, do you?”
Siamese twins joined at the umbrella handle, we circled her car. No keys gleamed on the wet gravel. She gave a huff of disgust. “I must have dropped them somewhere inside. Here, you keep the umbrella, and I’ll dash—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I took a firm hold of her arm. “You’ll get soaked and probably die of pneumonia. Then I’ll have to raise your kids. I’d rather come with you.”
By the time we got to the door, I was soggy from shoes to knees and my hair was plastered to my forehead. “The investment club may have had richer new members,” I quipped as she held the heavy front door for me, “but it has never had a wetter one.”
We were laughing together—and I was thinking how good it felt to finally be getting to know this daughter-in-law well enough to laugh with her — when we entered the hall and saw Chief Muggins standing there, glaring at us.
We stopped laughing at once, embarrassed to be caught carrying on while Willena lay dead down the hall. On the other hand, anybody who has been through a trauma knows that without laughter, you lose your mind.
Cindy stammered, “I-I’m sorry I . . . I-I’ve left my keys somewhere.”
The chief’s eyes narrowed. He went to the door of the ladies’ room and called, “Hey, Hank, you still got those keys you found?”
“Right here.” A deputy handed them out, encased in a plastic bag.
“Are these them?” The chief knew no more about grammar than he did about criminal investigation.
I caught Cindy’s elbow, willing her not to say a word, but she’d already exclaimed, “Yes!” and reached for them. When he pulled them back so she couldn’t touch them, with a gleam in his eye, her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Where did you find them?”
“Right where you left them,” Chief Muggins said with satisfaction. “Under Miss Kenan’s body.”
7
Cindy’s eyes widened and her face turned white as chalk. I felt the world start a slow spin, and wasn’t sure I could keep my balance.
“You can go on home now, Judge,” the chief said to me, jerking his head toward the door. “Mrs. Yarbrough and I need to chat a little longer.”
“I’m not
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