The Icing on the Corpse by Liz Mugavero Read Free Book Online Page A

glanced up from the recipe cards spread out on the table in front of her. “Hey, so—oh, hi, Mrs. Connor.”
    â€œHello, Brenna.”
    â€œTea?” Stan grabbed mugs out of the cabinet as the kettle whistled, signaling boiling water. “Or if you want coffee, I can make that, too.”
    â€œTea would be lovely. I hope I’m not intruding.” Patricia sat.
    â€œNot at all.” Brenna glanced at Stan, then self-consciously adjusted her ponytail. “Did you want me to go?”
    â€œOh, no, dear!” Patricia exclaimed. “I don’t want to interrupt. I won’t take much of my daughter’s time. I just need her advice.”
    â€œ My advice?” Stan turned, unable to conceal her surprise. That was a new one.
    â€œYes, this is your town, after all. My intuition tells me we might have a touchy situation on our hands.” Patricia accepted the mug of tea and waited for Stan to sit. When she did, Patricia continued. “You know it was a terrible morning, with the circumstances at the celebration. Tony was so upset about that poor woman. She was a legend in the community, I understand. Did you know her well, dear?”
    Stan resisted the urge to point out that Tony Falco knew Helga probably as well as she did. Not very. “I was lucky enough to meet her a few times,” she said instead. “But, yes, it was very sad. Brenna and her family were extremely close to Helga.”
    â€œOh, no.” Patricia looked genuinely distressed. “I’m so sorry.”
    â€œThank you,” Brenna mumbled, shuffling her recipe cards together.
    â€œMaybe you can give me some insight, then.” Patricia leaned forward. “Tony and I were redirecting people at the celebration after we received the news. Offering condolences, of course. We were approached by a man who offered—actually, he was quite insistent—that he step into Helga’s duties immediately.”
    Brenna’s mouth dropped. “What?”
    â€œI know,” Patricia said. “Unseemly. Tony was instantly uncomfortable, of course, given the circumstance, but he did let the man speak.”
    â€œWas it Dale Hatmaker?” Brenna asked through clenched teeth. “Never mind—stupid question. Of course it was Hatmaker. Slimy piece of—”
    â€œSo what did Tony say, Mom?” Stan interrupted, shooting a warning look at Brenna.
    â€œHe did introduce himself as Dale, yes,” Patricia said, answering Brenna’s question. “But the point is, I’m concerned.”
    â€œConcerned about what?” Stan asked, but her mind had already divided itself between the part still listening to her mother and the part off and running on its own. Dale Hatmaker. The man who’d appeared out of nowhere this morning and offered himself up to “help” by filling in for Helga, suggesting she was shirking her duties before anyone knew what had happened. Then he’d panhandled for her job before she was officially pronounced dead? What kind of man did that? The kind of man who pushed an eighty-seven-year-old to her death? Crazy thoughts, but what if Betty’s suspicions were true and Helga hadn’t fallen on her own?
    â€œQuite frankly, I’m concerned about Tony making a bad decision and letting this man have the job,” her mother said. “I get the sense Mrs. Oliver was much loved in the community. Tony told Dale the museum would be closed for the next little while, while Mrs. Oliver was laid to rest and everything was sorted out; but once that’s done, he’ll have to address it. And he can be . . . easily led by outside influences. Especially given his somewhat rocky relationship with the council.”
    â€œWould he really be that stupid?” Brenna asked. “Because there’d be a lotta people here running him out of town. Helga’s own son is on the council. And he knows karate.”
    Patricia raised an