A Crabby Killer Read Online Free

enjoyed getting a preview of what was going to be in the festival. She made a mental note of some of the booths she planned on returning to, like the Dunbartons’ local honey stand and Ina’s tie-dyed scarfs. She also wanted to check out the tent that had some fantastic-looking cookies from the new bakery in town. She never saw the tall, lanky man.
    At the end of the line was the main attraction—the big crab boil. Crab Cove didn’t get its name by accident. The cove was loaded with several varieties of ocean crabs. People came to the island specifically to taste the crab salad, crab legs, crab dinners, crab rolls and stuffed crab. The islanders had found a way to capitalize on that by having the largest crab boil on the East Coast and tourists came to see and taste it.
    The ‘largest’ crab boil included a gigantic, cast iron pot which must have been about five feet across.
    Claire had no idea where they’d even acquired such a pot. The darn thing took ten men to carry to the fire pit that had been dug in the grassy section of land next to the very end of the pier. Right now, the pot sat atop stacks of wood, which would be lit on fire to create the boil. Claire shuddered to think of how many crabs would give their lives to provide the festival-goers with a tasty lunch.
    Norma scowled at the pot, whose lid was tilted up an inch on the right instead of sitting level in the grooves. “Idiots don’t even know how to put the cover on right.”
    “Wait a minute.” Dom stepped closer to the side of the pot, his boots scuffing the two-foot dirt ring that surrounded the fire pit. “That must mean there’s something in it.”
    “I thought they didn’t put the crabs in until noon,” Jane said.
    “That’s right,” Norma huffed. “And it’s up to us to make sure this pot is clean which it looks to me like it might not be.” She whipped her cane up and hooked it under the lid, then tugged with a strength that should have been impossible for a bent-over lady of her age. The lid slid aside about six inches.
    They all stepped forward and looked into the pot.
    Claire felt the blood rush to her head. Her wide eyes battled with her brain, which refused to believe what they saw inside.
    The clipboard slipped from Tom’s hand and clattered on the ground.
    The gull’s cries faded away and then disappeared altogether, drowned out by the screams of Jane who was standing beside her.
    Inside the pot was the tall, lanky man who drove the blue Mercedes, and he was undoubtedly dead.

4
    “ W ho the heck is that ?” Norma demanded after Jane stopped screaming.
    Claire was wondering the same thing. She glanced over at Dom and caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Did he think she knew who the man was? Maybe he knew and was looking to see if she recognized the body.
    Apparently, Jane’s screams had summoned everyone within hearing distance and before anyone could answer Norma’s question, a crowd was rushing down the pier toward them.
    Dom turned around, holding his hands up to stop them from coming onto the dirt area. “Don’t come any further. This is a crime scene now.” Dom turned back to face Claire and the others. “Let’s try to get onto the pier without disturbing too much.”
    Dom was right. Claire looked down. There could be footprints or other evidence in the dirt and they’d just trampled most of it. Tom gingerly picked up the clipboard and they all tip-toed onto the wooden boards of the pier.
    “Yoo hoo! Sorry I’m late.” Claire whipped around to see Mae bustling down the pier. She stopped short about ten feet from them. “What?”
    Tom stepped toward Mae. “We’ve had a little incident,” he said soothingly.
    Claire caught the look of surprise on Mae’s face at Tom’s gentle tone. But Claire was not surprised. Tom and Mae lived on abutting farms that their families had owned for generations. Tom’s was a goat and dairy farm and Mae’s was a fruit farm. The two families had had an