Stuck on Murder by Lucy Lawrence Read Free Book Online Page B

tone gently teasing.
    “Bitter, I’m not . . .” he began to protest and then his shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Yeah, I’m pretty bitter.”
    They both laughed and Brenna knew they shared a joke to which she wasn’t privy.
    “I don’t blame you,” Lillian said. “He maneuvered the town council into buying that land to put that strip mall up before the preservation society could make an offer.”
    “They just plowed over the old school yard as if it were no more a historic site than the dump. It was such a travesty. Well, I think the mayor has finally met his match. I’m going to enjoy watching Nate Williams take Jim Ripley down,” Roger said. “And I’ll do anything I can to help.”
    It seemed to Brenna that Roger Chisholm was more than a little bitter. In fact, it sounded as if should Ripley happen to step in front of Roger’s car, he’d be hard pressed to decide whether to hit the gas or the brake.
    She left the library with a wave to Lillian, who frequented her decoupage classes, feeling more than a little disturbed. A resolution needed to be made about the lake property, and soon, before the town was irrevocably divided by the issue. She mulled it over on the drive back to her cabin, but with no resolution in mind by the time she got home, she was happy to close her door on the entire mess.
    She had bought a fresh loaf of French bread and quickly pulled together the ingredients for a cheese soufflé, which she seasoned with dry mustard, garlic powder, and kosher salt. While that baked for thirty-five minutes, she made a spinach salad with raspberry vinaigrette and poured herself a glass of wine.
    The sun was just beginning its descent so she took her wine outside. She sat on the top step and rested her back against the porch railing, watching as the lake reflected the sky’s deepening amber hues as perfectly as a mirror. A soft breeze sent ripples across the water’s surface, and Brenna wrapped her arms about her middle, trying to keep in more of her own warmth. This was her favorite time of day, when the woods surrounding the lake took on hushed tones like a parent tucking a child into bed.
    As the water smoothed back into its pristine veneer, she saw something bob to the surface. At first she thought maybe one of Nate’s signs had fallen into the drink, but no. This was too large and too brown.
    She placed her wineglass on the top step and rose from her seat. The sunset was now bursting into vibrant shades of blood red tinged with gold. She felt a chill spread up her arms, giving her goose bumps.
    She squinted at the object in the water. It looked like an old wooden steamer trunk. What was it doing in the lake? Having spent many of her days off foraging in the town dump, looking for old furniture to restore and decoupage, Brenna couldn’t help but think that this trunk could be quite a find if it wasn’t too water damaged.
    Without stopping to reconsider, she kicked off her shoes and rolled up her pant legs. The trunk was close enough that she didn’t think she’d actually have to swim for it. She grabbed a fallen tree limb from a nearby willow and shimmied out onto a big rock at the edge of the water. She had to use two hands to maneuver the branch over the trunk to try and rake it closer. It bobbed on the water, getting nearer before it got bogged down in the weeds that filled the shallows at the water’s edge. Damn.
    Brenna debated leaving it there. She loathed the feel of slimy weeds on her feet. But then, what if it had just fallen off someone’s truck when they were moving? It could be in excellent condition. She could picture it painted white with deep blue hydrangea blossom cutouts trailing up one side and down the other. No, she couldn’t let it sit.
    Gritting her teeth, she stepped into the frigid water and waded out to the trunk. Jagged pebbles dug into the soles of her feet, while slippery weeds wrapped around her ankles. Ew. Still, she kept going.
    When she reached the trunk,