Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry Read Online Free PDF Page A

she doesn’t, but I think she lets him sleep as much as he wants when we’re gone. I’ve told her again and again I need him to be tired by the time I get home.”
    Skye sucked in an audible breath and frowned. She had just read an article in the
School Psychologist Journal
about parents who kept their infants up during the day so they could sleep at night. There was a concern that interrupting the natural sleep patterns of the babies could harm their brain development.
    Cherry’s gaze fastened on Skye and she glared, then turned back to Kyle and raised her voice. “We seem to have a Nosy Parker eavesdropping on our discussion. Please go over and tell her to mind her own damn business.”
    “Babe, that’s totally bogus.” Kyle ran his fingers through his blond curls. “Like, I’m sure no one cares what we’re saying.”
    Cherry ignored him and stalked over to Skye. “You, there, Syke, my husband and I are having a private conversation. Back off.”
    “Where in this twelve-by-twelve room do you think I could stand and not hear you?” Skye was now completely annoyed. “There are twenty-four of us, which means we are each entitled to about six square feet. Since your
husband
isn’t supposed to be here, you’ll have to share your six feet with him.”
    Suddenly Skye felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down into her mother’s angry scowl.
    “What in the world is going on?” May whispered. “I turn my back on you for two minutes and you’re already arguing with someone.”
    Skye, resuming eye contact with Cherry, said, “Go sit down, Mom. Everything is fine. Cherry and I were just dis-cussing spatial relationships, and the fact that her ego is taking up more than its fair share of the available space.”
    May tugged Skye back a couple of steps and hissed in herear, “I raised you right. You know better than to say things like that to someone’s face—you only say them behind their back.”
    “Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical?”
    “No, I think it’s good manners.”
    Before Skye could react, the door swung open and one of Grandma Sal’s staff walked in. “Okay, now that everyone’s here, please follow me onto the stage. Grandma Sal will introduce you; then you can answer some questions for the media.”
    The contestants hurriedly gathered their belongings and formed a loose line. Skye noticed that Cherry had managed to get into the number one spot.
    Skye was surprised to see nearly every chair on the gym floor occupied and several TV camera crews jostling for position just beyond the footlights. Uncle Dante had been right: This was a major event and a good chance for Scumble River to get some positive PR.
    A woman in her late seventies stood center stage. Her gray hair was arranged in a soft halo of curls, and her blue eyes twinkled behind wire-rimmed glasses. She wore a pink flowered dress and a matching hat covered in artificial car-nations.
    Smiling at the contestants, she said, “Ladies and gentle-men, it is my pleasure to welcome you to the thirty-fifth annual Grandma Sal’s Soup-to-Nuts Cooking Challenge.” She waited for the applause to die down, then continued, “My name is Sally Fine, and I’m CEO of Fine Foods. Helping me with this contest are my son, Jared; his wife, Tammy; my grandson, JJ; and his brother, Brandon.”
    Skye looked over at the middle-aged couple and their handsome sons. Both young men seemed fairly close in age, somewhere in their twenties. JJ resembled Grandma Sal, a little pudgy, with blue eyes and curly blond hair, while Brandon looked more like his mother, athletic with dark hair and eyes. The couple and their sons waved politely, but none of the four looked pleased to be there. Skye remembered hearing that they lived in Chicago and, unlike Grandma Sal, were rarely seen at the Scumble River factory.
    Grandma Sal waited for the clapping to die down, then said, “Our judges are Ramona Epstein, food editor for the
Chicago Post
; Alice Gibson,