Murder on the Lunatic Fringe (Jubilant Falls Series Book 4) by Debra Gaskill Read Free Book Online

low over his face as he slouched down in the back seat of Jim’s cruiser.
    “You know how to pick ’em Duncan,” I said softly as I leaned into the cruiser.
    “I’m sure you can tell me why, too,” Duncan answered.
    “Doyle McMaster has been on the front page for everything short of homicide,” I whispered. “He’s a Class A creep with a record a mile long. The women who work at common pleas court even call him a frequent flyer.”
    “Well, he certainly established that.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “We were talking about how hard it is to run a dairy farm when McMaster starts shooting off his mouth about how the Mexicans are coming in and the blacks are taking all the jobs at the auto parts plant,” Duncan continued. “I guess he works for that big commercial hog plant east of Longfellow. He was pissed because he got his hours cut and he’s losing his house. Anyway, just as he’s starting to rant and rave about the blacks—and of course, he didn’t use that word— and this guy comes in—” Duncan jerked his thumb at the knot of men still telling Jim McGinnis what happened.
    In the center of the group stood Jerome Johnson.
    I gasped.
    “What?” Duncan asked.
    “Remember when I went over to the old Jensen farm yesterday and interviewed that Russian woman? That black guy is her farm manager!”
    “Great. I get in a fight and my wife knows more about the participants than I do.”
    “No—you don’t understand! As Pat and I were leaving the farm, we pass a little house she’s built on the property and this Johnson guy is standing there staring at us. It was like he thought we were trespassing or something. He had a camera, too—he’d been taking pictures of us. It was weird.”
    “Well, Doyle was being a jerk and he called Johnson a nigger and Johnson threatened to hit him and Doyle swung and I stepped in between them, then all hell broke loose.” Duncan took the ice pack away from his eye and gazed at me. “How bad does it look?”
    I grimaced. “Doyle did a good job. You’ve already got a shiner.”
    Duncan groaned, sliding from the back of the police car. He handed me the ice pack. “We ought to do something nice for Jerome. He’s new in town, and he’s certainly not seen the best Jubilant Falls has to offer.”
    “I’m not cooking dinner, not if you want to ever talk to them again.”
    “I can fix steaks on the grill, baked potatoes are easy, and you can get some salad or something at the market.”
    I rolled my eyes. My idea of entertaining involved beer and popcorn, maybe cards, and even that could be done badly enough to assure company wouldn’t come back.
    Popcorn could be burned. Beer could be flat. And the jack of hearts could be missing from the euchre deck in the kitchen junk drawer. And who knows—the phone might ring in the middle of the evening and I’d have to leave my guests to go chase some story.
    It would be easier if we went out to a restaurant. That way, at least the bad food wouldn’t be my fault.
    I was also a little uncertain about inviting someone into my home who’d been surreptitiously photographing me.
    Duncan walked into the knot of men around Johnson and extended his hand.
    Behind me, Isabella sighed. I turned to see her standing with her hands on her hips.
    “What is it?” I asked, exasperated.
    “I guess this means we’re not going to go looking for a car for me today, then, huh?”
    I stared at my daughter, incredulous. “Who said anything about buying you a car?”
    “Dad.”
    ***
    Silent on the ride home, I lit a cigarette as soon as the truck came to a stop, tossing the match into the gravel driveway. I let Isabella walk into the house before stopping Duncan on the porch.
    “Can you answer me one goddamn thing?”
    “What? I got you out of cooking. Jerome says he doesn’t feel much like going anywhere after this morning. I did invite him over Sunday afternoon, though.”
    “That’s not what I’m talking