A Tough Nut to Kill (Nut House Mystery Series) by Elizabeth Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

Amos Blanchard and finding him trying to ruin the family—well, wouldn’t be called murder, Lindy. We’d call it self-defense. Why, in Texas we’d call that justifiable homicide. I think there are folks here in town that would want to throw your brother a parade. So you see, all I need is the truth and we’ll put all this behind us.”
    I could only stare at Sheriff Higsby.
    “Your office’s sure a mess,” he said after a long pause. “Looks like whoever did this was after your records. Grafting, aren’t you? Anything secret about what you’re doing in there?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t have secrets. I don’t share my work—not yet, ’cause I don’t have anything for sure. But now my records are all gone except—”
    “They stole your computer, Hunter says.”
    I nodded and then remembered what I’d wanted to tell Hunter.
    “Sheriff, somebody was in my apartment over the Nut House earlier today. I could see where they were messing with the laptop I keep there. When Hunter came into the store, you know, when Amos was there—I’m sure he told you; I was going to tell him about someone being up there but didn’t get a chance.”
    Sheriff Higsby nodded. “You think it was Amos looking around?”
    “Amos would never have gotten by Miss Amelia.”
    “She’s distracted at times, I’ll bet. Not young anymore, ya know.”
    I flinched but didn’t have time to think about the implications of what he was saying. “I told my mama and she thought it was nothing . . .”
    “Let me get somebody right over there to the Nut House. Seein’ as whoever did this was after your work, better secure that place, too. Can my men get in?”
    I felt in my pockets for the apartment key then looked around for my purse. “I don’t know where my keys are right now, but I think Miss Amelia leaves a key up over the door. Same one probably opens my apartment. Nothing too secure. Never had to be.”
    I felt a cloud settling heavily in my head. What I had to do was stay quiet until my mother got there. Or even Miss Amelia—Meemaw would stand up to the man, tell him Blanchards didn’t kill people and wouldn’t want parades thrown because a man was dead.
    As if in answer to a prayer, Emma’s old black pickup pulled in behind the sheriff’s car. Emma and Miss Amelia both got out at a run. Emma pushed the sheriff aside and leaned in to take me into her strong arms. I closed my eyes and rested my head on Mama’s shoulder. From behind her came the sheriff’s protesting voice, and then Miss Amelia, loud and angry and peremptory, the way she could get when her children were threatened. “What’s wrong with you, Willard Higsby? Our girl’s had a terrible shock and you badgering her? Why, shame on you. Just shame on you, Willard. Now you get the heck away from our Lindy and go find yourself a killer. Poor Amos . . .”
    Her voice trailed off as she followed the quickly retreating Sheriff Higsby back toward the greenhouse building.

Chapter Seven

    There was nothing comforting about being back in the ranch house. Nothing reassuring about the dark, exposed beams of the living room, or the low sofas and chairs. It was more a place where the real horror of what I’d just gone through settled in.
    Hunter hovered over near the low archway leading into the living room but stayed away from me. He was going in and out as Sheriff Higsby ordered.
    I couldn’t stand to look at him right then. It was as though my best friend had turned against me, in this, one of the worst times of my life. It was as if he’d joined the other side, unable or unwilling to reach out a hand to help me.
    I couldn’t process what had happened. Couldn’t work through stumbling over Uncle Amos’s dead body. Couldn’t work out that Hunter had been the first to accuse me of killing him. As if he didn’t know me at all.
    We were all together now, but sitting apart. Justin, still in work clothes—blue shirt and old jeans—his dark head bowed, sat on