Berry the Hatchet Read Online Free PDF Page B

this were a play and the whole thing had been planned for their entertainment. They murmured among themselves, stamping their feet against the cold, but didn’t make a move to take shelter in any of the stores.
    â€œIs he alive?” Greg came out of Book ’Em to stand by Monica.
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t think so.”
    Someone called out, “Should we take that knife out of his neck?”
    â€œBetter not,” Greg said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He’d managed to grab his jacket but had obviously left his gloves and hat behind. “I’d leave everything exactly the way it is.”
    Moments later they heard sirens in the distance, their wail becoming louder with every passing second. A police car pulled up to the barricade at the end of Beach Hollow Road and two officers jumped out. They were bundled against the cold, with their hats pulled down low on their foreheads, but Monica thought she recognized them. Eventually everyone became familiar in Cranberry Cove.
    Greg was standing behind Monica. He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Are you okay?”
    â€œYes, I’m fine,” Monica said and meant it. She wasn’t the delicate flower, fainting type, although she sometimes wondered if she would have gotten more attention from men if she had been. But you can’t change who you are, and she really didn’t want to anyway.
    â€œI’d better get back to the store,” Greg murmured. “In case someone wants to read about a murder mystery rather than take part in the one happening right under their nose. Even though that seems highly unlikely.”
    Monica spun around toward him. “You think it’s murder?” Her breath caught in her throat.
    Greg gave a wry smile. “I don’t think Preston fell on that knife by accident.”
    Monica gave a short, humorless laugh. “True.” She shook her head. “But another murder in Cranberry Cove? It’s hard to believe.”
    Greg sighed. “I know. But greed and jealousy and all those other turbulent emotions exist in idyllic small towns as well as big cities.”
    â€œI guess you can’t call them idyllic then?” Monica said with a question in her voice.
    â€œI don’t know about that,” Greg responded. “I think any place that suits you, personally, is idyllic.”
    Monica thought about that. Greg was right. Cranberry Cove suited her down to the ground. And Greg was definitely a part of that.
    â€œI’ll catch up with you later,” Greg said, giving Monica’s shoulders a final squeeze.
    Monica went back to watching the police, who were now approaching the sled with Preston’s body. They carried themselves with an air of self-importance as they pushed their way through the crowd.
    â€œStep back, folks. Nothing to see here.”
    Nothing to see?
There was obviously plenty to see. The tourists had gotten their money’s worth and then some. The admonitions of the two officers fell on deaf ears and did little to dissuade the crowd, which pressed even closer to the sled holding Preston’s inert body.
    Bart Dykema hung on to the horse’s reins, whispering softly at it, keeping the animal steady. He wasn’t wearing a coat, but he didn’t seem aware of the frigid air as he soothed the rattled beast. It continued to snort and prance, pawing the ground with its enormous hooves, but it was clearly calming down after its mad dash down Beach Hollow Road.
    The two policemen dispatched to the scene didn’t seem to have any idea as to what to do. They stood around with their arms hanging at their sides, their jaws slack, theirheads swiveling right and left, lest any of the people in the crowd try to get closer to the scene.
    The sound of a car’s engine rose above the noise of the crowd, and a black sedan pulled up behind the police car. The front door opened, and a woman emerged. She was dressed