Read Online Rest Ye Murdered Gentlemen by Vicki Delany - Free Book Online Page B

else.” Her blue eyes studied me. “Do they think I poisoned Nigel Pearce?”
    â€œI don’t know what they’re thinking. Simmonds told you that you could open, didn’t she? That means they didn’t find anything . . . uh . . . incriminating.”
    We both started at a knock on the door. “Tell them to go away,” Vicky said.
    Alan Anderson’s handsome face was peering through the window. I hurried to the door. “Bakery won’t be opening today.”
    â€œJust checking if you guys are okay.”
    â€œWe’re okay. Come on in.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, I felt myself grinning at him. He grinned back.
    â€œWould you like a cinnamon bun, Alan?” Vicky asked. “I think the cops left one or two.”
    â€œForget the cinnamon buns,” I said. “Did you hear?”
    â€œBun would be nice, thanks. About Pearce? Everyone’s talking about it.”
    â€œWhat are they saying?”
    â€œTown council had an emergency meeting this morning. Soon as they broke up, word started going around that Pearce got drunk and went for a walk in the park, where he fell asleep and froze to death.”
    â€œDo you believe that?” I asked.
    â€œNo. But that story doesn’t make anyone in Rudolph look responsible.”
    â€œAnyone like me,” Vicky said.
    â€œAnyone,” Alan said firmly. “The police aren’t saying, and until they do there’s no point in speculating.”
    â€œBut people will.”
    â€œSpeculate? Sure they will. Already are. The mayor and the councilors just gave them a hint of what to speculate about.”
    â€œIs anyone wondering why the cops were here?” I asked. “At the bakery, I mean.”
    â€œSome are. They went through Pearce’s room at the Yuletide Inn and were asking where he’d eaten earlier.”
    Vicky groaned. “Here. Not only my baking at the party, but he had lunch here.”
    Alan put a hand on Vicky’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet. Things that might never happen. The autopsy’ll show he had a bad heart or something. I didn’t think he looked like a well man. Right, Merry?”
    â€œRight,” I said cheerfully. “He was definitely too thin and kinda pasty white.”
    â€œCome to think of it,” Vicky said, “he only had a couple of sips of soup and never finished his sandwich.”
    â€œAs we suspected. He was sick already.” Alan gave me a smile. I grinned back, pleased at our logic.
    Vicky reached up and patted his hand. “Thanks, guys.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Now get out of here. You must have work to do. I know I do. This is a chance for me to get ahead of myself and do some prep for tomorrow. It’ll be nice to have the kitchen to myself, like when I first started the business. I might even be able to get home early for once and enjoy a glass of wine and a good book. If you’re up to it, Merry, pop on over when you close the shop. Good thing today’s Sunday. Some of the tourists won’t think anything of us not being open.”
    Alan and I headed for the door. “Hold up!” Vicky called.She ran to the counter and stuffed blueberry muffins and cinnamon buns into small white paper bags. The bags showed the Victoria’s Bake Shoppe logo of two mischievous gingerbread children peeking around a stylized Christmas tree. “These are no good a day old.” The smile she gave us was genuine. Vicky never stayed down for long. I gave her a spontaneous hug. We left her whistling to herself and reaching for a long apron.
    â€œThanks for that,” I said to Alan as we stood on the steps, gripping our bags of cinnamon and sugary goodness. “You knew exactly what to say to her.”
    â€œI didn’t say anything I didn’t mean. People die all the time, unfortunately, no need for the