Flipped For Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

did the rotary dial on the front.
    â€œPans ‘N Pancakes. This is Robbie.” I listened to Phil croak out he was sick, and then grimaced before saying, “Just get better, dude. We’ll be fine. Adele’s coming in.” But after I hung up, I hoped I was right. I was still getting used to the pace of the breakfast rush, and things could get tricky with only two of us.
    By the time Adele walked in, the pancake batter was made, the first batch of biscuits was in the oven, and I’d made a fresh batch of miso gravy. I was about to greet her when another woman followed her in. It was Vera from the day before.
    I greeted her and then said, “But I’m sorry, we’re not open yet.”
    Adele laughed. “She’s with me, honey.” She clapped Vera on the back. “We realized we needed a chance to catch up, so—”
    â€œSo I left the tour and spent the night with Addie. Hard to believe how long it’s been since we sat down with a beer and shot the shi . . .” She caught herself with a grin. “And got reacquainted.”
    â€œShe’s going to help out this morning. Okay by you?” Adele cocked her head.
    I nodded as I thanked Vera. “Happens to be perfect timing. Phil called. He’s sick. Stomach flu. No way he’s coming in.” I tapped the countertop. “Vera, can you bake?”
    â€œCan I bake? Addie, can I bake?” Vera set hands on hips.
    â€œShe used to run Vee’s Bakery. Of course she can bake.” Adele laughed loud and hearty.
    â€œWhew. Phil makes the desserts for lunch. I’ll need brownies and anything else. Can you do that by eleven-thirty?”
    â€œOf course. You want me to bake here or at Addie’s?”
    â€œHere’s fine.”
    â€œI make a pretty mean apple pie. You got apples?”
    â€œYou bet. There’s a whole bushel of local Spartans in the cooler. It’s apple season, after all. But start after the breakfast rush is over, okay?”
    â€œWhat can I do now?” she asked.
    â€œAdele knows where the aprons are. Tables need setting, and then you could make sure salt and pepper shakers and the ketchup squeeze bottles are full. Of course that’s assuming we get a breakfast rush. I should tell you both what happened last night.”
    â€œAbout Stella coming up dead?” Adele asked as she tied an apron on after handing one to Vera.
    â€œOf course you would already know. But it’s more than that.” I told them about coming home with Jim last night and about Buck here waiting for me, getting grilled about where I’d been, me with no witnesses to my whereabouts.
    Adele whistled. “No fun. Don’t you worry your head; they’ll find the person who shot her.”
    â€œYou already know how she was killed? Last night Buck wouldn’t tell us.” I turned my attention back to my cooking and began laying sausage links on the grill.
    â€œI got my sources, sugar.” She laid blue-and-white striped paper place mats on the table next to her. “She was shot, all right, and in the back, as I heard it. The biscuit in the mouth was a nasty touch, wasn’t it? For her—although, of course, she was gone by then—but mainly for you.”
    â€œI’ll say.” I tried to focus on the now-sizzling sausage. “Shot in the back. That means it was somebody she knew? Who she let into her house, I guess.” I jumped back when a drop of hot grease landed on my hand. Damn. Thinking about murder was Buck’s job, not mine.
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    I wiped my forehead with a corner of my apron as the old clock on the wall chimed nine. My fears about people staying away because of the murder were unfounded. The breakfast rush was in full force. I’d been flipping pancakes, cooking short-order eggs, serving up gravy on biscuits, and frying bacon and sausage as fast as I could. Vera and Adele both waited tables and bussed after we’d