Death on a Deadline by Christine Lynxwiler Read Free Book Online Page A

something.”
    Carly sighed and stared straight ahead.
    Shoulder to shoulder, people filled the pews, and the last few aisles, including the one we sat in, consisted of mostly occupied white folding chairs.
    I methodically scanned each row, spotting Don Samuels, the butcher from Piggly Wiggly. Two rows down, Angelo Petronelli, from Petronelli Bakery sat with his family. The butcher, the baker, all we need now is the candlestick maker. Immediately Chrysalis Summer, owner of that little bead and candle shop on Main Street, passed in front of my view. Now everyone was accounted for at the funeral of one of Lake View’s most prominent citizens.
    The newspaper employees were all seated in one section, along with their families. Something about the slumped figure with a blond buzz cut caught my eye.
    “Car!” I hissed.
    She glanced at me. “What?”
    “Does the back of that head look familiar to you?” I pointed discreetly, covering my finger with my hand. “Right there, on the other side, four rows up,” I whispered.
    Carly clutched my hand. “It’s Zac.”
    I winced and pried her death grip loose. I nodded, but my mind was spinning. Why would Zac be here? Why hadn’t he told us he was coming? He was supposed to be in school. “Who’s that sitting by him?”
    “It looks like Elliott, his golf instructor.” The hurt fled from Carly’s face, replaced by determination. “I’m going to go talk to Zac.”
    “Wait a minute,” I said. Making a scene at the funeral wouldn’t be a good thing for Zac, and Carly’s taut face had scene written all over it. “Let’s think about this. If he didn’t mention he was coming, he probably didn’t want you to know. Did you tell him you were going to be here?”
    She shook her head.
    “Don’t you think home would be a better place to discuss it with him? Or at least wait until after the service?”
    She nodded and sat back, biting her lip.
    “Excuse me, ladies.”
    I jerked around to meet Alex Campbell’s intent gaze. He seemed to be making a habit of sneaking up on me.
    “May I sit here?” he whispered.
    I nodded dumbly. Carly slid into the vacant seat further into the row and I automatically followed suit.
    Alex leaned over toward me. “Hey, water girl. How’s life in the deep end?” His standard greeting to me as long as I can remember.
    “I’m not so crazy about being in over my head anymore,” I whispered, my pulse pounding as loud as my words.
    Thankfully, before I had to tread any more dangerous water, Brother Johnson stood and approached the podium. The music and muted conversation stopped.

Five

    I admired the preacher who could make heavy-handed Hank sound like a candidate for sainthood. But I was glad for Marge’s sake that he could come up with comforting words. Theo, Hank’s son, had barely made it home in time for the funeral, but he seemed to be holding up very well. Since there was no casket, after the closing prayer, we stood respectfully while Hank’s family filed out. What a shame Amelia wasn’t close enough to her sister to comfort her at a time like this.
    Once we were all outside, I hugged Marge, then Theo.
    “Jenna, it’s so good to see you.”
    “You too, Theo. I’m just sorry about the circumstances.” We hugged again and he took his mom to speak to someone else.
    I turned around to find Carly and Alex standing behind me.
    “Would you ladies like to get a bite to eat?” Alex lowered his voice. “Or is it bad manners to talk about food right after a funeral?”
    I glanced around the parking lot at the huddled groups of people engrossed in conversation. There were less tearful faces than I’d ever seen after a death in the community. Even Marge, flanked by Theo and Lois, looked exhausted, but calm.
    Alex cleared his throat, and I pulled my attention back to him.
    He raised one eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not considering my etiquette question?”
    I loved how he could arch his eyebrow. Why couldn’t I do that?