Read Online The Chocolate Moose Motive: A Chocoholic Mystery by JoAnna Carl - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: JoAnna Carl
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that was wise. And the room has a comfortable, homey atmosphere.”
She smiled, and I sipped my coffee, formulating another comment on the room. But before I could speak, Wildflower burst out again.
“Sissy has an alibi for that morning, but it’s only me. I’m the only one who can back up what she says. A grandma’s testimony won’t cut much ice with the cops.”
I started to tell Wildflower that Sissy’s alibi checked out with people who had seen her in Holland the morning Buzz died. Then I decided I’d better not blab what Hogan had told me. But I remembered that Sissy had consulted Joe’s poverty law agency about legal help with her custody case.
“If Sissy needs help,” I said, “Joe’s agency can link her up with a defense attorney.”
Wildflower’s face grew contemptuous. “An attorney?” She sounded as if I had suggested she consult an ax murderer. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Before I could reply, she went on. “Sissy shouldn’t have gone to your husband’s agency. But that doesn’t matter. The reason I’m asking if you’re interested in the case is that you—well, you have a reputation for figuring things out.”
“I’ve stumbled over things. But I’m not as knowledgeable as a professional investigator. I might do more harm than good. If you want an independent investigation of Buzz’s death, you need to hire a special investigator.”
Wildflower sipped her coffee again. When she spoke, she went to a different topic.
“How’d you meet that lawyer you married?” She was still managing to give the word “lawyer” an extra layer of meaning, and it wasn’t a complimentary definition.
I ignored her tone and explained that Joe had been a lifeguardat Warner Pier Beach when I was a teenaged employee at TenHuis Chocolade, so I had known who he was from the time I was sixteen. But we didn’t get acquainted until we were thirtyish. I left out the part about the stupid first marriages each of us had made in the meantime. Then I asked Wildflower where she was from originally. Her answer was Detroit. Neither of us referred to Buzz’s death again. The conversation continued along conventional lines, though her comments weren’t always conventional. I saw where Sissy got her habit of making blunt remarks.
By the time I left, I had attained my goal, and I thought Wildflower had, too. We each got a look at someone who was part of Sissy’s life. Despite any talk around Warner Pier, Wildflower didn’t seem too odd to me—just blunt. I hoped I didn’t seem too odd to her. I probably just seemed ditsy, thanks to my typical slip of the tongue.
I didn’t stay long. After all, Wildflower had a bird to skin, and I had a client coming. As I drove back to Warner Pier, my mind ranged back to her original question. “Do you think you can figure out who killed Buzz?”
I had immediately denied any intention of even trying to do that. Had I been honest? I long ago admitted I was the nosiest person around. Had I gotten interested in Sissy because of the mystery in her life?
No, I told myself firmly.
Buzz had probably been killed by some ordinary intruder, by a burglar who broke into Wildflower’s house, thinking it was empty. I had no reason to get involved in a case like that. That required the expertise of professional detectives.
I wasn’t interested in Buzz’s death, I told myself smugly. Instead, I made myself wonder why Wildflower distrusted lawyers. She hadn’t wanted Sissy to consult one even when herfather-in-law tried to gain custody of her son. Buzz’s death was a tragedy to Sissy and Wildflower, and for little Johnny. But it was none of my business.
Until ten o’clock that night I was convinced I had no interest in Sissy except as an employee. That was when Joe and I heard the chug-chug of a Volkswagen as it drove down our lane.
We looked at each other. That lane didn’t serve any house but ours.
“Kind of late for a caller,” Joe said.
The chugging stopped,
She smiled, and I sipped my coffee, formulating another comment on the room. But before I could speak, Wildflower burst out again.
“Sissy has an alibi for that morning, but it’s only me. I’m the only one who can back up what she says. A grandma’s testimony won’t cut much ice with the cops.”
I started to tell Wildflower that Sissy’s alibi checked out with people who had seen her in Holland the morning Buzz died. Then I decided I’d better not blab what Hogan had told me. But I remembered that Sissy had consulted Joe’s poverty law agency about legal help with her custody case.
“If Sissy needs help,” I said, “Joe’s agency can link her up with a defense attorney.”
Wildflower’s face grew contemptuous. “An attorney?” She sounded as if I had suggested she consult an ax murderer. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Before I could reply, she went on. “Sissy shouldn’t have gone to your husband’s agency. But that doesn’t matter. The reason I’m asking if you’re interested in the case is that you—well, you have a reputation for figuring things out.”
“I’ve stumbled over things. But I’m not as knowledgeable as a professional investigator. I might do more harm than good. If you want an independent investigation of Buzz’s death, you need to hire a special investigator.”
Wildflower sipped her coffee again. When she spoke, she went to a different topic.
“How’d you meet that lawyer you married?” She was still managing to give the word “lawyer” an extra layer of meaning, and it wasn’t a complimentary definition.
I ignored her tone and explained that Joe had been a lifeguardat Warner Pier Beach when I was a teenaged employee at TenHuis Chocolade, so I had known who he was from the time I was sixteen. But we didn’t get acquainted until we were thirtyish. I left out the part about the stupid first marriages each of us had made in the meantime. Then I asked Wildflower where she was from originally. Her answer was Detroit. Neither of us referred to Buzz’s death again. The conversation continued along conventional lines, though her comments weren’t always conventional. I saw where Sissy got her habit of making blunt remarks.
By the time I left, I had attained my goal, and I thought Wildflower had, too. We each got a look at someone who was part of Sissy’s life. Despite any talk around Warner Pier, Wildflower didn’t seem too odd to me—just blunt. I hoped I didn’t seem too odd to her. I probably just seemed ditsy, thanks to my typical slip of the tongue.
I didn’t stay long. After all, Wildflower had a bird to skin, and I had a client coming. As I drove back to Warner Pier, my mind ranged back to her original question. “Do you think you can figure out who killed Buzz?”
I had immediately denied any intention of even trying to do that. Had I been honest? I long ago admitted I was the nosiest person around. Had I gotten interested in Sissy because of the mystery in her life?
No, I told myself firmly.
Buzz had probably been killed by some ordinary intruder, by a burglar who broke into Wildflower’s house, thinking it was empty. I had no reason to get involved in a case like that. That required the expertise of professional detectives.
I wasn’t interested in Buzz’s death, I told myself smugly. Instead, I made myself wonder why Wildflower distrusted lawyers. She hadn’t wanted Sissy to consult one even when herfather-in-law tried to gain custody of her son. Buzz’s death was a tragedy to Sissy and Wildflower, and for little Johnny. But it was none of my business.
Until ten o’clock that night I was convinced I had no interest in Sissy except as an employee. That was when Joe and I heard the chug-chug of a Volkswagen as it drove down our lane.
We looked at each other. That lane didn’t serve any house but ours.
“Kind of late for a caller,” Joe said.
The chugging stopped,
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