Read Online The Chocolate Moose Motive: A Chocoholic Mystery by JoAnna Carl - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: JoAnna Carl
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and running footsteps pounded across the porch. Someone banged on the door. There was yelling. “Lee! Joe!”
I jumped up. “It’s Sissy!”
Joe and I both rushed to the door. He threw it open, and Sissy almost fell in.
“Oh Lordy, Joe! I need a lawyer bad!”
“What’s happened?”
“Helen Ferguson is dead, and that idiot sheriff is sure to think I killed her!”
That certainly got me out of the mood for going to bed. What had happened?
It took a few minutes to get Sissy coherent enough to tell us what was going on.
Ace Smith’s housekeeper, the tarted-up, middle-aged blonde who had come into the shop the day before, was lying dead at Beech Tree Beach, just a short way from our house. Sissy had stumbled over her body at the bottom of the steps that led down to the beach. No, Sissy hadn’t yet called the authorities.
“My phone won’t work out on the lakeshore,” she said. “This was the closest place I could think of to come.”
“Lee, you call 9-1-1.” Joe headed for the kitchen drawer where we keep the flashlights. “Get the cops and an ambulance. I’ll go down there and see if she’s really dead.”
“Oh, she’s dead,” Sissy said. “Her head! No live woman ever held her head at that angle.”
I argued vaguely with Joe. I hated for him to go down to that beach—which had no lighting—if a killer might be lurking around. He ignored me.
But before he went out the door, he turned to Sissy. “Were there any cars around at the beach?” he asked.
“Just Helen’s.”
“Did you see anybody else there?”
Sissy shook her head. “I—I don’t think so.”
“Why did you go there, anyway?”
“Helen said she had something to tell me. She sent me a text message.”
“Call 9-1-1,” Joe told me firmly. “Then call Hogan. And you and Sissy stay here.”
I obeyed, mainly because I didn’t have a better idea. I couldn’t leave Sissy alone, and it would have taken a forklift to get her back to that beach.
Within five minutes of my 9-1-1 call I heard the first siren. It sounded beautiful.
Sissy was so upset that I didn’t ask her any questions, and she didn’t volunteer any more of her story.
But I had a bunch of questions waiting, such as why on earth she had gone to Beech Tree Beach in the dark, even if Helen asked her to come. Why would she agree to meet someone when they’d publicly exchanged harsh words the day before?
After about half an hour, a state cop, a woman, came to the door. She’d been sent to stay with us, she said. She didn’t explain just why, but Sissy looked crushed.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
Sissy had, of course, called Wildflower to tell her she wouldn’t be home right away. Her son was sleeping peacefully, she reported.
Soon after the state cop came, Joe returned. “I was just in the way down there,” he said.
Sissy clasped her hands imploringly, or maybe she was wringing them. “Helen really is dead?”
Joe nodded.
“I was sure she was,” Sissy said dully.
“At least we’re inside the city limits,” Joe said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the sheriff won’t be involved.”
“Oh.” That didn’t seem to comfort Sissy. She sank into a seat at the end of the couch. “This is such a nightmare.”
Joe sat down on the coffee table, facing her. “Sissy, do you want me to call someone to represent you?”
“Represent me?”
“A lawyer, Sissy.”
“I didn’t kill her, Joe.”
“I understand. But you still might need a lawyer.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“That can be worked out.”
Sissy rested her head on her hand. “Don’t call anybody yet.”
“Sissy, you need to get hold of yourself,” Joe said. “It’s too soon to panic.”
“Why? When Buzz died, everybody thought I did it. And I loved Buzz. I didn’t even like Helen.”
Joe stopped her with a gesture. “Buzz was shot. Helen Ferguson wasn’t. She may have fallen down those stairs. Don’t panic until there’s an official
I jumped up. “It’s Sissy!”
Joe and I both rushed to the door. He threw it open, and Sissy almost fell in.
“Oh Lordy, Joe! I need a lawyer bad!”
“What’s happened?”
“Helen Ferguson is dead, and that idiot sheriff is sure to think I killed her!”
That certainly got me out of the mood for going to bed. What had happened?
It took a few minutes to get Sissy coherent enough to tell us what was going on.
Ace Smith’s housekeeper, the tarted-up, middle-aged blonde who had come into the shop the day before, was lying dead at Beech Tree Beach, just a short way from our house. Sissy had stumbled over her body at the bottom of the steps that led down to the beach. No, Sissy hadn’t yet called the authorities.
“My phone won’t work out on the lakeshore,” she said. “This was the closest place I could think of to come.”
“Lee, you call 9-1-1.” Joe headed for the kitchen drawer where we keep the flashlights. “Get the cops and an ambulance. I’ll go down there and see if she’s really dead.”
“Oh, she’s dead,” Sissy said. “Her head! No live woman ever held her head at that angle.”
I argued vaguely with Joe. I hated for him to go down to that beach—which had no lighting—if a killer might be lurking around. He ignored me.
But before he went out the door, he turned to Sissy. “Were there any cars around at the beach?” he asked.
“Just Helen’s.”
“Did you see anybody else there?”
Sissy shook her head. “I—I don’t think so.”
“Why did you go there, anyway?”
“Helen said she had something to tell me. She sent me a text message.”
“Call 9-1-1,” Joe told me firmly. “Then call Hogan. And you and Sissy stay here.”
I obeyed, mainly because I didn’t have a better idea. I couldn’t leave Sissy alone, and it would have taken a forklift to get her back to that beach.
Within five minutes of my 9-1-1 call I heard the first siren. It sounded beautiful.
Sissy was so upset that I didn’t ask her any questions, and she didn’t volunteer any more of her story.
But I had a bunch of questions waiting, such as why on earth she had gone to Beech Tree Beach in the dark, even if Helen asked her to come. Why would she agree to meet someone when they’d publicly exchanged harsh words the day before?
After about half an hour, a state cop, a woman, came to the door. She’d been sent to stay with us, she said. She didn’t explain just why, but Sissy looked crushed.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
Sissy had, of course, called Wildflower to tell her she wouldn’t be home right away. Her son was sleeping peacefully, she reported.
Soon after the state cop came, Joe returned. “I was just in the way down there,” he said.
Sissy clasped her hands imploringly, or maybe she was wringing them. “Helen really is dead?”
Joe nodded.
“I was sure she was,” Sissy said dully.
“At least we’re inside the city limits,” Joe said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the sheriff won’t be involved.”
“Oh.” That didn’t seem to comfort Sissy. She sank into a seat at the end of the couch. “This is such a nightmare.”
Joe sat down on the coffee table, facing her. “Sissy, do you want me to call someone to represent you?”
“Represent me?”
“A lawyer, Sissy.”
“I didn’t kill her, Joe.”
“I understand. But you still might need a lawyer.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“That can be worked out.”
Sissy rested her head on her hand. “Don’t call anybody yet.”
“Sissy, you need to get hold of yourself,” Joe said. “It’s too soon to panic.”
“Why? When Buzz died, everybody thought I did it. And I loved Buzz. I didn’t even like Helen.”
Joe stopped her with a gesture. “Buzz was shot. Helen Ferguson wasn’t. She may have fallen down those stairs. Don’t panic until there’s an official
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