“That makes sense.” I took a sip of my pumpkin spice latte. “I can’t believe she would just shoot him like that.”
“She’s claiming self-defense,” he repeated and reached over and scratched Boo’s ear.
“And what about the medallion? Why was that out there?” I asked.
“She said she went to check and see if he was alive. She still had the backpack in her hand, and it was open, and she rummaged through it for her phone. We think it might have fallen out.”
“But she didn’t call anyone.”
He nodded. “She said her phone was dead and insists it was self-defense.”
“Right, because when you shoot someone in self-defense, your first thought is to cover the perpetrator in leaves and leave him in the woods.” I rolled my eyes.
He snickered. “You used police lingo.”
I chuckled. “I know a word or two. Don’t act so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s cute.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and shook my head. “Did you tell Fagan’s wife what happened to him?”
“I did. She’s distraught over it, of course. She blames herself for not being more understanding of his football and gambling addiction and for getting angry about his drinking.”
“Oh, that’s sad. Neither his drinking nor his gambling was good for him or their marriage. I’m sure she thought she was doing what she could to make things better for both of them.”
“That is what I told her. But, when you lose someone, sometimes you take the blame onto yourself in one way or another.” He took a sip of his cocoa.
He was right. But Janna had no one to blame but Sonia for Fagan’s death. And that wouldn’t do her much good because it wouldn’t bring her husband back.
I watched as the Peanuts gang enjoyed their unconventional Thanksgiving dinner and I was glad for the childhood I had had that included the tradition of watching Peanuts specials. We’d get the chance to watch the Christmas one soon, and I was glad I’d get to do it with Ethan. I reached across and took his hand and gave it a squeeze. He turned and looked at me, smiled, and squeezed back. How had I gotten so lucky to have someone like him in my life?
Author’s Note
I love Thanksgiving. It’s that middle fall holiday that reminds me of family and everything that’s good in life. I have a memory of Thanksgiving from when I was about six that came to me while writing this book. My father worked for a company as a truck driver and the wife of one of the other truck drivers had left him and their three children shortly before Thanksgiving. I don’t remember all the details about why he didn’t bring his family to eat dinner with us, but I remember that my mother insisted on making his family a Thanksgiving meal. I can still remember the man when he came to pick up the food and how thankful he was that she had made him and his kids an entire Thanksgiving meal.
That’s what Thanksgiving is. Not just spending time with family but giving to others that have suffered a misfortune in their own lives. I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving!
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Caramel Killer: A Pumpkin Hollow Mystery, book 12 Page 11
