by TM Simmons
~
I kept my silence on the drive back to Esprit d’Chene, using the time to reexamine my suspicions and get my ducks in a row. Katy had to understand that she couldn’t hold back information. I’d have to tell her that she was on the list of suspects.
But Katy escaped me. As soon as we arrived, she jumped out of the car and hurried ahead of us into the manor house with Miss Molly — once again leaving the groceries to Jack and me. By the time we got everything in the kitchen, she wasn’t anywhere around. Only Miss Molly sat there, tongue smoothing her ruffled fur. And Mr. Quick, sipping a cup of coffee. He set the cup down with a clatter when Jack walked in.
“Everythin’ in the house is clear, Detective. I just made another round.”
“Thanks, Franklin. I’ll handle the house patrol for the rest of the night.”
“Yessir!" He grabbed his coffee cup and carried it through the Garden Room, on outside.
“I’ve got some calls to make,” Jack said.
“I’m in the Peach Room, but you can use any of the other bedrooms, I’m sure. Even if Katy’s not around to tell you which ones are made up. There are sheets in the laundry room.”
“I’ll be staying down here tonight. Franklin’s gonna patrol the grounds, and I kept another officer here, too.”
“There’s nothing really suitable downstairs to sleep on, Jack.”
“I won’t be sleepin’.”
“Well, at least let me fix you some bacon and eggs.”
“How 'bout I fix the bacon and eggs, while you get ready for bed?”
“Humph! It’s microwave bacon, directions right here on the package. And anyone can scramble eggs.”
Jack shook his head and took the package of bacon from me. “Like I said, I’ll fix us somethin’ to eat. I can make my calls just as well while I’m cookin’.”
“You still haven’t forgotten those damned scorched breakfast tacos, have you?”
“Seems to me those were microwave tacos, too.”
“Well, hell, nobody told me that different microwaves have different settings!”
“It’s marked right on the dial. See?" He laid a finger on Katy’s fancy microwave. “Defrost. Medium. Reheat. Hi — ”
“I’m going to get a shower! I’ll be down in a while. Watch Miss Molly for me." I stomped out, glancing around for Trucker. He’d come in with us, but I’d lost him somewhere between there and the kitchen. I peeked in the library — and fear turned me into a statue. I tried to scream, but my vocal cords might as well have been encased in marble, also.
