Killer Shots Murder Mysteries - Books 1-3

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Killer Shots Murder Mysteries - Books 1-3 Page 39

by Lisa B. Thomas


  Tyler and Sherry exchanged nasty looks.

  Then Sherry said something that surprised me. “Would you all mind if I talked to the patient in private a couple of minutes?”

  “You don’t still have a gun on you, do you?” Tyler asked.

  “Maybe.” She grinned and put her hand on her shoulder bag.

  “Well,” Tyler said, “if it’s okay with you, Nancy, I’d like to get a taste of that life-saving pie of yours.”

  She smiled and turned to Sherry. “Is the extra one in the freezer at the school?”

  “Yep, help yourself.”

  “By the way, who won the pie auction?” Nancy asked.

  Sherry rolled her eyes. “Gayle Davidson.”

  “Ugh,” Nancy groaned. “Not again.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sherry said with a sly grin, “I have a feeling this is her last win for a while.”

  Nancy turned to me. “Are you going to be okay until I get back? I’ll grab a few things and come back to stay with you tonight.”

  “You don’t have to come back. I’ll stay with her.”

  Nancy smiled at her brother. “Okay then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wait!” My voice came out louder than I expected. Everyone turned back to me as though I’d just unmasked the killer in an episode of Scooby-Doo. “What about Cricket? She’s home alone.”

  After a collective sigh of relief, Nancy said, “I’ll go by and check on her. She’ll be fine. Is the spare key still under the pot next to the front door?”

  Jake groaned and shook his head. “Really, Wendy?”

  “It’s a good hiding place,” I said in my own defense. “Deputy Darnell didn’t find it.” I looked back at Nancy. “Yes, and thanks.”

  Nancy blew me a kiss as she walked out with Tyler.

  “I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me,” Jake said and kissed my forehead. He shot a look at Sherry that made it clear she better not do anything stupid.

  When it was just us, Sherry pulled up a chair. “I was just wondering what you saw before you fainted.”

  “What do you mean? I saw Alex and a very sharp knife.”

  “I know that,” she said, trying to sound too casual. “But did you happen to see me?”

  I had no idea where she was going with this. “Do you mean when you fired the gun?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I saw you standing there holding the gun...and a pie.”

  She came to attention. “You saw the pie?”

  “Yeah. It looked like that pie Karol has on her menu at the diner. That’s Gayle’s recipe, right?”

  Sherry squirmed a bit, first crossing her legs, then uncrossing them. Slowly, she said, “You know how they say when you save someone’s life they are indebted to you forever?”

  So that’s what this was about. She not only wanted me to thank her, she wanted to rub my face in it. How long did she plan to hold this over my head? Maybe I could move away from Cascada. I had been on my own before. There were plenty of places I could go. I could start over again in a new town, maybe get a new identity...

  “Wendy!” Sherry snapped her fingers. “Are you listening?”

  “Sorry. I was just thinking about the future.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “I want to make you a deal. I scratched your back, now I need you to return the favor.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “I am definitely not killing anyone for you. I know you must have a lot of enemies, but I have to draw the line.”

  “Very funny,” she said with a sour grin. “It’s not that. It’s about the pie.”

  “What pie?”

  “Gayle’s pie.”

  “Gayle Davidson’s pie?” I sat up higher in the bed and braced myself. “Sherry, what did you do?”

  Epilogue

  Jake took me back to Lorenzo’s Monday night to make up for our previous failed date there. It was much better this time around with no judgy mothers and no ex-girlfriends. Since I was still on painkillers, there was no wine for me. In fact, I don’t think I would have had some anyway.

  We had several things to celebrate, including the Cascada Chaparrals finally making it to the playoffs. Coach Barnes kept his job, even though the team lost in the first round. We also toasted Sheriff Grady for not arresting the wrong suspect for a change. Our final toast was to Artie and Brett. Gone but not forgotten. I still wonder if somehow Artie was trying to give me a sign when that bookend fell off the shelf. I could have sworn it was steady when I last saw it.

  The district attorney charged Alex with two counts of murder and one for the attempted murder of me. It turned out his fingerprints matched the one on the bookend. He pled not guilty, of course, but the DA said the case would be a slam dunk with all the evidence and testimony, including the eyewitness account of Sherry Grady.

  I assume you want to know what Sherry told me that day in the hospital. She told me to keep it a secret, and I will, of course. After all, she did save my life. If you’re like me, your first thought was, “Oh my gosh! She poisoned Gayle Davidson’s pie.” Luckily, that wasn’t the case. Not quite anyway. Apparently, right before she came out of the kitchen, she was “doctoring” Gayle’s pie. You know how chefs are fanatical about seasoning; well, Sherry wanted to make sure Gayle’s had enough. She added a healthy dose of salt to the pie, thinking word would get out about how awful it was and it would seriously affect the bidding at the next festival.

  I know it’s despicable, but seriously, it was rather clever. It’s not like she tried to kill anyone. I’ve decided to suggest that the committee turn the pie auction into a pie contest, and let each entry be judged on its own merit.

  Speaking of pies, it turned out that Tyler was allergic to Nancy’s secret ingredient and spent the rest of the weekend sick in bed. No, they’re not getting back together.

  The Winter Arts Fair turned out to be a huge success, despite the unconventional start. I convinced Sherry to bow out as the photography judge, and they replaced her with Charlotte Randall. Sure enough, she picked my photo as the first place winner. I still don’t know if it was really because of my picture or the fact that I was almost killed at the event. Either way, I’ll take it until the next competition rolls around.

  That brings me to Jake. Do you remember that scene in Lady and the Tramp where each dog has one end of the spaghetti in its mouth? Well, that didn’t happen to us. We’re not animals; we use knives and forks. But it was just as romantic. The lights were dim, the candlelight reflected off our eyes, the smooth tones of Frank Sinatra sang softly in the background. Then Jake reached across the table and took my hand.

  Are you ready for this? Right then, Lorenzo’s newest waitress walked by our table, recognized me, and accidently dropped a plate of spaghetti in my lap. I’m not kidding. It was a mess. Jake offered to take me home immediately, but I cleaned it off best I could and just laughed it off.

  Why? Because I wanted to know what Jake was about to say before it happened. A girl doesn’t get a moment like that very often. Besides, I didn’t want Raven to feel bad or get fired on her first night on the job.

  Yes, it was Raven.

  After things had settled down and we shared a dessert, the moment was there again. Jake reached across the table and took my hand. That’s when I snapped out of my magical, mythical moment. Whatever he was about to say wasn’t going to mean the same with me covered in marinara sauce smelling like Parmigiano cheese.

  I pulled my hand back and laughed. “Let’s get out of here,” I told him. “I look awful.”

  Jake had smiled and said, “Not to me. To me you’re perfect.”

  Oh, and in case you’re wondering, later that night we both used the L-word.

  It was nearly a picture perfect moment.

  * * *

  THE END

  * * *

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  Works by Lisa B. Th
omas

  Maycroft Mystery Series

  Sharpe Shooter

  Sharpe Edge

  Sharpe Mind

  Sharpe Turn

  Sharpe Point

  Sharpe Cookie

  Sharpe Image: Prequel Novella

  Killer Shots Mysteries

  Negative Exposure

  Freeze Frame

  Picture Imperfect

  ALL BOOKS AVAILABLE HERE

 

 

 


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