Eggs in a Casket (A Cackleberry Club Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page A

chances are you will, too.”
    “Maybe,” said Suzanne. “Although it helps to eat right and keep your stress level in check.” She kept talking because she was tap-dancing around the one question she really wanted to ask. And finally did. “So . . . what about Missy?”
    “I’m gonna have a sit-down talk with that lady,” said Doogie. “I called her and she’s going to meet me at the Law Enforcement Center this afternoon. We’ll see if she can help fill in the blanks.”
    “Please tell me you’ll treat her with kindness,” Suzanne urged.
    “I’ll do my job,” said Doogie, but there was an edge to his voice. “I intend to ask her some very hard questions and in return I expect honest answers.”
    “I’m sure you’ll get those answers.”
    Toni grabbed a ketchup bottle, slid down the counter, and grinned at Doogie. “How’d it go this morning?” she asked. “After we left.”
    “Don’t ask,” said Doogie, draining the last of his coffee.
    “Ooh,” said Toni, “your face is turning green again. Must have been awful trying to pull Drummond out of that wet grave.”
    “You don’t want to know,” said Doogie. Now he poked listlessly at what was left of his sweet roll. “We had to slide a backboard under him and then use the cemetery’s coffin lift.”
    “You’re right, I don’t want to know,” said Suzanne, as Toni wandered off. She hesitated. “Any idea on how long Drummond had been down there?”
    “Draper made that guesstimate of two to three hours.”
    “That would mean Drummond died just before first light,” said Suzanne, thinking it over. “What on earth would he be doing in the cemetery at five in the morning? Plus, the time frame doesn’t jibe with Missy. We saw her leaving around seven-thirty.”
    “But what time did she
get
there?” asked Doogie. “And how long did she stay?”
    Suzanne was momentarily confused. “But I thought you said Drummond had a heart attack.”
    “As you so helpfully pointed out, there are lots of ways to give someone a heart attack.”
    “Oh my gosh!” said Suzanne, gazing into Doogie’s hard gray eyes. “You think Missy had a hand in Drummond’s death.” It was a statement, not a question.
    “You have to admit, her presence at the cemetery paints a very suspicious picture.”
    “Which I’m sure she can easily explain,” said Suzanne.
    “You think so?” said Doogie.
    No, but I hope so
, thought Suzanne.
I really, really hope so.
    * * *
    “OKAY, I’ve got some lunch specials for you,” Petra called out.
    Suzanne grabbed a piece of yellow chalk from a shelf behind the counter. “Shoot,” she said. Each day, once Petra had the menu worked out, it was dutifully printed on the chalkboard for all to see.
    “Chicken meatloaf,” said Petra. “Although I suppose it’s not really meatloaf at all.”
    “Chicken chickenloaf?” said Suzanne.
    “Whatever,” said Petra. “Along with stuffed green pepper soup, egg salad sandwich, and salade Niçoise.”
    “Is there gonna be pie?” Toni called from across the café, where she was setting out silverware.
    “Rhubarb pie with vanilla ice cream,” said Petra.
    Toni smiled as she rubbed a spoon against her apron. “I have just one word for that. Yum.”
    Suzanne printed out the menu in block letters. And then, to better monetize the nearby cooler that held offerings brought in from some of their local vendors, she wrote down, Lemon Bread—$4.99 a loaf.
    “We’ve got lemon bread?” asked Toni. She stared at the chalkboard as she stuck her hands into the back pockets of her skintight jeans.
    “Our cooler is absolutely stuffed with food,” said Suzanne. “Shar Sandstrom brought in ten loaves of bread, Ellen Hardy some jars of pickles, and Dan Mullin brought in a couple dozen wheels of his fabulous Swiss cheese.”
    The café’s wall phone shrilled just then and Toni reached to grab it. She listened for a couple of seconds then passed the phone to Suzanne. “It’s for you.”