Read Online Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder by Marilyn Rausch, Mary Donlon - Free Book Online
Authors: Marilyn Rausch, Mary Donlon
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Bend, Iowa, are not that of Tracy Trent, the missing radio announcer from Iowa City. We will continue to investigate her disappearance, as we have for the past five years, but the local authorities are now handling this case. Police Chief Fredrickson will brief you further. Thank you.”
Fredrickson looked startled, as if he had not expected to speak. He stepped to the microphones with stage fright written all over his face and cleared his throat.
A reporter shouted, “Chief, Chet Roper, from the CBS affiliate in Chicago. Why did you think the remains were those of Tracy Trent?”
“I never did. Someone around here just jumped to the conclusion, I’m afraid.”
Another reporter jumped in. “If it isn’t Tracy Trent, Chief, who is it?”
“When I know, I’ll let you know. Until then, I hope you’ll clear out of town and leave us alone to do our job. I have no more comments,” he concluded and pushed his way through the crowd.
* * *
The bell jingled as Chip opened the café’s door, but no one noticed it above the din of gossipmongers. He heard a familiar laugh and glanced in the direction of the small table he and Jane had at one time selected as their own. Jane was there and not alone. Lance Williams seemed to be entertaining her, and Chip winced as Jane put her hand on his arm.
He did all he could do to stop himself from rushing over, pulling Lance out of his chair and decking him in the jaw. Chip knew he should be cool and just saunter over and join them, but he was in no mood to do so and feared he might make an ass of himself. He turned on his heels and exited before they noticed him.
He fussed and fumed all the way back to the farmhouse. Sure, he himself had been a newcomer who wooed the local vet, but that was different, wasn’t it? He loved her and asked her to marry him. And anyway, how lame was this character … an architect who wanted to be an organic farmer? Who was Lance kidding? The guy didn’t know the first thing about farming. Then again, he thought, he hadn’t known the first thing about writing crime stories, and look at him now. Relax, Jane would never be interested in Lance, she’s too smart, too sensible. Oh God, maybe she’s too smart and sensible to marry a two-bit crime writer, one who’s been divorced three times!
He clipped a neighbor’s mailbox and the side mirror of his Volvo snapped off. Damn.
He arrived home to two barking dogs and a kitten who was taunting them from her perch on top of the refrigerator. He let the dogs out into the yard, snatched down Callie, and then headed to his laptop to check emails.
September 23, 4:00 p.m.
Chip,
Good news, bad news. The good news is that Amy Chang from Good Day USA wants to interview both of us for a segment about crime novels that are being made into movies. The bad news is that she wants to do the interview in Turners Bend, which means I will have to make another trip to that odious little town. Amy and I plan to arrive next Tuesday to film. Try to look and act like a noted author for once.
Lucinda
His life was a roller coaster ride. Just a few days ago he had been excited about the Bijou renovation and the positive signs from Jane. Now the theater project was on hold, Jane had a potential new suitor and worst of all, Lucinda was coming to town.
His only comfort was the purring kitty in his lap.
Chapter Ten
Mind Games
St. Paul & Brooklyn Center, Minnesota
Late July
The media vehicles had cleared out of the parking lot in front of the Capitol by the time Frisco pulled alongside Jo’s black SUV. The Capitol and St. Paul’s Cathedral across the way were brightly lit by spotlights—two jewels lit against a velvety black sky.
“Looks like the media packed up their circus wagons and left for the night,” Frisco said.
Jo laughed. “Glad the head muckity-mucks get to deal with them, not me.” She grasped the door handle. “Thanks for the company at dinner, Frisco. I
Fredrickson looked startled, as if he had not expected to speak. He stepped to the microphones with stage fright written all over his face and cleared his throat.
A reporter shouted, “Chief, Chet Roper, from the CBS affiliate in Chicago. Why did you think the remains were those of Tracy Trent?”
“I never did. Someone around here just jumped to the conclusion, I’m afraid.”
Another reporter jumped in. “If it isn’t Tracy Trent, Chief, who is it?”
“When I know, I’ll let you know. Until then, I hope you’ll clear out of town and leave us alone to do our job. I have no more comments,” he concluded and pushed his way through the crowd.
* * *
The bell jingled as Chip opened the café’s door, but no one noticed it above the din of gossipmongers. He heard a familiar laugh and glanced in the direction of the small table he and Jane had at one time selected as their own. Jane was there and not alone. Lance Williams seemed to be entertaining her, and Chip winced as Jane put her hand on his arm.
He did all he could do to stop himself from rushing over, pulling Lance out of his chair and decking him in the jaw. Chip knew he should be cool and just saunter over and join them, but he was in no mood to do so and feared he might make an ass of himself. He turned on his heels and exited before they noticed him.
He fussed and fumed all the way back to the farmhouse. Sure, he himself had been a newcomer who wooed the local vet, but that was different, wasn’t it? He loved her and asked her to marry him. And anyway, how lame was this character … an architect who wanted to be an organic farmer? Who was Lance kidding? The guy didn’t know the first thing about farming. Then again, he thought, he hadn’t known the first thing about writing crime stories, and look at him now. Relax, Jane would never be interested in Lance, she’s too smart, too sensible. Oh God, maybe she’s too smart and sensible to marry a two-bit crime writer, one who’s been divorced three times!
He clipped a neighbor’s mailbox and the side mirror of his Volvo snapped off. Damn.
He arrived home to two barking dogs and a kitten who was taunting them from her perch on top of the refrigerator. He let the dogs out into the yard, snatched down Callie, and then headed to his laptop to check emails.
September 23, 4:00 p.m.
Chip,
Good news, bad news. The good news is that Amy Chang from Good Day USA wants to interview both of us for a segment about crime novels that are being made into movies. The bad news is that she wants to do the interview in Turners Bend, which means I will have to make another trip to that odious little town. Amy and I plan to arrive next Tuesday to film. Try to look and act like a noted author for once.
Lucinda
His life was a roller coaster ride. Just a few days ago he had been excited about the Bijou renovation and the positive signs from Jane. Now the theater project was on hold, Jane had a potential new suitor and worst of all, Lucinda was coming to town.
His only comfort was the purring kitty in his lap.
Chapter Ten
Mind Games
St. Paul & Brooklyn Center, Minnesota
Late July
The media vehicles had cleared out of the parking lot in front of the Capitol by the time Frisco pulled alongside Jo’s black SUV. The Capitol and St. Paul’s Cathedral across the way were brightly lit by spotlights—two jewels lit against a velvety black sky.
“Looks like the media packed up their circus wagons and left for the night,” Frisco said.
Jo laughed. “Glad the head muckity-mucks get to deal with them, not me.” She grasped the door handle. “Thanks for the company at dinner, Frisco. I
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