A Second Helping of Murder and Recipes: A Hot Dish Heaven Mystery Read Online Free Page A

warm childhood memories had returned, nestling in my stomach.
    “No,” Barbie said in answer to Margie’s question, “it wasn’t a heart attack.”
    She then went mute, and in the silence that followed, two competing notions argued their respective positions in my brain. One suggested I refrain from asking about the piler guy’s demise since I was still recovering from my own recent brush with death. The other reasoned that, as a reporter, I had, at minimum, an obligation to make a few inquiries. “So, Barbie,” I said, the curiosity-driven view winning out, as usual, “if it wasn’t a heart attack, what was it?”
    Barbie slipped her eyes between Margie and me, her mouth closed up as tightly as a drawstring bag.
    While appreciating her ability to create suspense, I, like Margie, was becoming irritated, not to mention uneasy, because of her delays. “Come on,” I grumbled when I couldn’t stand it any longer, “what was it?”
    Barbie’s head swiveled, as if on a stick. “Murder,” she said. “It looks like murder.”
    Margie blinked rapidly, and I stuck the remainder of my Peanut Butter Cup Bar in my mouth, chewing fiercely. Another murder here in the Red River Valley, a place where nothing newsworthy ever occurred other than the occasional tornado or flood? How could that be?

 
    Chapter Four
    T he dead guy’s Raleigh Cummings ,” Barbie said. “He drove beet truck for Buford and Buddy.” She sent Margie a quizzical look.
    Margie responded, “I don’t believe I knew him.”
    “He was Harvey’s cousin from Fargo. His only surviving relative. He stepped in at the last minute, after Harvey’s heart attack.”
    Margie clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I’m still shook up over Harvey.” She was referring to her nephews’ long-time beet hauler. She’d told me about his death during one of our recent phone conversations. “I always thought he drove his snowmobile way too fast to hafta worry about cholesterol. I guess I was wrong.”
    Barbie plucked a spoon from the silverware bin. “Yeah, everyone really misses him. And from what I understand, Raleigh wasn’t much of a replacement. He was a pain in the ass from the get-go. Always telling Buddy and Buford how to do their business.” She jabbed the air with the spoon. “As we all know, farmers don’t like being second-guessed. They get enough of that from Mother Nature.” She ambled toward the stove. “By Raleigh’s third day on the job, the twins were ready to fire him but couldn’t. They were already shorthanded because of that flu bug that’s going around.”
    “Oh, now I think I remember the guy.” Margie nodded like a bobblehead doll. “Tall drink of water in his mid-thirties? Broad shoulders? A wicked smile and eyes to match?”
    “Well, when I saw him, his eyes were closed, and he didn’t have much to smile about, being dead and all.”
    I broke in. “You actually saw the body?” I’d never seen a corpse, and the thought of it made me squirm. Even so, I couldn’t help but ask for details. Pathetic, huh?
    Well, Emme, as we’ve often said, your curiosity may very well be the death of you .
    It was one of the voices in my head. That’s right. I occasionally hear voices. And there was a time in my life when I suspected it was a sign of mental instability. But my therapist said it was far more likely the result of being alone so much.
    I was an only child, and following the death of my parents, when I was just thirteen, I moved in with my only relatives, an aunt and uncle who were neither demonstrative nor talkative. To fill the void, I supposedly developed an active imagination, complete with voices. Either that or my therapist was wrong, and I was just plain crazy.
    “Yeah, I saw the body.” Barbie reached for a hot pad and lifted the cover from the large skillet that sat on the left rear burner. “But only for a minute. Then the sheriff pushed me away, yapping about how I was contaminating his crime