Murder Gone A-Rye (A Baker's Treat Mystery) by Nancy J. Parra Read Free Book Online

Phyllis a kiss on the cheek, then poured herself a cup of coffee, snagged a chocolate chip cookie, and sat down on the floor at Phyllis’s feet. “Okay, speak. . . .”
    “Ruth was interrogated at the police station this evening,” Phyllis said.
    “What?!” Tasha turned her blue gaze on me. “What happened?”
    “I’m a murder suspect,” Grandma Ruth said with a tad too much glee.
    “Oh my god.” Tasha nearly spilled her coffee. It sloshed around the cup rim. “Why? Who? When? What?”
    “Now, see, Tasha knows all the right questions to ask.” Grandma looked at me smugly. “She did not leap to the conclusion that I’d done anything wrong.”
    “Grandma—”
    “She didn’t,” Grandma huffed.
    Tasha sat up on her heels. “Someone had better tell me what happened right now.”
    “Lois Striker was murdered,” Brad said.
    “And the police think Grandma did it?” Tasha was smart enough to see the problem. “Why?”
    “Apparently there were incriminating scooter marks at the scene,” Bill added.
    “But lots of people drive scooters,” Tasha pointed out. “Right?”
    “Not with my all-terrain tires on them.” Grandma loved all the attention. “I could have done it, you know. I’m capable of a lot of things.”
    “Ruth!”
    “Grandma!” Brad, Tasha, and I said all at once.
    “What?”
    “Don’t say that,” I said, horrified.
    “You don’t know who’s listening,” Brad said. “In the hands of the right prosecutor, it might be considered incriminating.”
    “Well, poop.” Grandma pouted. “I didn’t say I did it. I simply pointed out that I could have done it.”
    “Ruth.” Phyllis’s tone brooked no disobedience. “You were telling us about Lois’s connection to Homer and why you think she was killed.”
    “Oiltop is a small town,” I pointed out. “How many secrets can there be?” It certainly seemed like my life was constantly under scrutiny. Can you imagine if you were the town hero?
    “Wait—Homer Everett was connected to Lois?” Tasha struggled to keep up with our conversation. “Wasn’t that like sixty-some years ago? What secrets could Lois possibly know that would get her killed now?”
    “She knew something,” Grandma said thoughtfully. “I was this close to getting it out of her.” Grandma held up her hand and put her index finger and thumb together. “It had to be good, too.”
    “What makes you say that?” I think my heart flopped over in my chest.
    “Clearly someone didn’t want her to tell me what it was that she knew about Homer.”
    “That’s entirely supposition on your part, Ruth,” Brad pointed out. “As of now we have no idea who wanted Lois dead, who killed her, or even how she was killed.” He steepled his hands.
    “You might not know, but I do,” Grandma said with a certainty that made me nervous. “My investigation stirred up secrets. Secrets someone would kill to keep quiet.”
    “What could she possibly know about Homer?” Tasha asked. “Why would it matter after all these years?”
    “It seems that will go to her grave with her.” Grandma sighed and grabbed a lemon cookie. “I’d been working her for months trying to get her to spill her guts on Homer. When I gave her some details I’d dug up in old newspapers, she got nervous. Then today she suddenly called me and said she had made the decision to come clean.
    “We were supposed to meet in front of the Statue of Homer near the courthouse. But she never showed.”
    “Where did they find her body?” I asked.
    “They didn’t say exactly.” Grandma shrugged. “Somewhere in the courthouse square.”
    “They’re keeping the details of the investigation closed,” Brad said. He sent me a long look. “Chief Blaylock stressed that he did not want amateur investigators involved. He said, and I quote, ‘Too many innocent people get hurt when nonprofessionals try to do a policeman’s job.’”
    I pinched my mouth in a partial frown. “I was not trying to do his