Murder Takes the Cake Text Read Online Free PDF Page A

phone. “Is this Daphne Martin?”
    “It sure is. How can I help you?”
    “I’m Annabelle Fontaine, Yodel Watson’s daughter.”
    “Oh, my.” I caught my breath. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.” I gripped the phone, unaware of what to expect.
    “Thank you.” She sniffled. “The police told me you found her.”
    “That’s right.”
    “D-did she say anything to you before she . . . before she—”
    I interrupted to try and ease her discomfort. “No, Annabelle. She was . . . um . . . unresponsive when I got there. I’d knocked on the door and thought she’d invited me in, but it turned out to be the parrot.”
    “Goofy bird.” She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “So the door was unlocked?”
    “Yes.”
    “And Mother was in her pajamas?”
    “Yes, her pajamas and robe.”
    She was quiet for a few moments before saying, “Mother never left her doors unlocked.”
    Annabelle’s voice was more pensive than accusatory, but I still didn’t know how to respond to her comment so I kept my mouth shut.
    “Did anything seem to be . . . out of place?” she asked.
    “I couldn’t say. I’d only been as far as your mom’s front door the other two times I’d been there. Yesterday was the first time I’d been inside.”
    “Would you do something for me?”
    “If I can.”
    “I need for you to go to Mother’s house and get her diary for me.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Mother kept a diary—a virtual tell-all of the happenings in the community. If someone killed her, the reason why is in that book.”
    “Wouldn’t it be best if you retrieved the diary yourself?”
    “It would be,” Annabelle agreed, “but I’m in Florida and can’t get a flight out until tomorrow.”
    “And you don’t think you could get the book tomorrow?”
    “I’m afraid to chance it. If someone did—God forbid—kill Mother, and that person knows or finds out about the book, he or she might go back for it . . . if it isn’t gone already. I know where Mother kept the book. You’d only have to look one place. If it isn’t there, you could leave.” She sounded desperate now.
    “But won’t the police—”
    “I’ve already spoken with them. They know you have my permission to go inside the house.”
    “Annabelle, what makes you think your mother was killed?”
    “I don’t know. I pray she wasn’t, but if the wrong person should get their hands on that book . . . oh, Daphne, it could be horrible.”
    “But, why me?”
    “You’ve only been in town a month. You couldn’t possibly have done anything in that amount of time to warrant more than a casual mention.”
    “Well . . . I would hope not.”
    “So you’ll do this for me?”
    “Sure.” Did I really just say that? Terrific. What have I gotten myself into this time?
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    I finished mixing up my cake batter for the chocolate cake I was making for Thursday. I poured the batter into a square pan and put it in the oven. I had to get the cake finished, I reasoned, plus I dreaded going to Yodel Watson’s house. I would’ve liked to take someone with me—and I knew Myra would’ve jumped at the chance to go—but Annabelle had made it clear she didn’t want anyone else seeing that book. I must admit, I was intrigued about the diary’s contents myself.
    As soon as I’d turned off the oven and put the cake on a wire rack to cool, I got into my Mini Cooper and drove to Mrs. Watson’s house. I felt odd about parking in the driveway, so I parked on the street a short distance away from the house. I felt as if I should be doing this deed under cover of darkness. I guess under cover of cloudy sky would have to do.
    A drop of rain splattered on my arm as soon as I got out of the car. The rain picked up as I sprinted to Mrs. Watson’s back door. I found the fake rock with the hidden key exactly where Annabelle had said it would be. I hoped the diary would be as easy to locate.
    I unlocked the back