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

scene.” She stirred the hot dish before scooping up a spoonful and replacing the cover. “He wouldn’t know a crime scene if he fell into it face first.”
    I raised my eyebrows.
    She waved the hot pad dismissively. “I’ll explain some other time.” She blew on her food.
    “So how was the body discovered?” I couldn’t help myself. Asking questions was as natural to me as breathing.
    Barbie touched the tip of her tongue to the food on her spoon. “Well, at two o’clock this morning the piler was shut down because of the cold, and it didn’t reopen until a little while ago. It then got really busy with everyone hauling the last of their beets. There were extra-long lines of trucks and lots of waiting. I guess one driver got bored, started texting his girlfriend, and ended up rear-ending the truck in front of him, which was on the outgoing scale. It messed up the scale, so some guys had to go down into the pit to check things out. That’s when they found Raleigh Cummings.”
    “Well,” Margie said, her eyes trained on Barbie, “if he’s the same guy I have in mind, he not only thought he was God’s gift to agriculture, he also fancied himself quite a ladies’ man.”
    “How do you know that?” I asked.
    “I saw him in the ‘V’ a couple times.” She bobbed her head toward the hallway that connected the café to the VFW. “And Buddy mentioned a few things about him.”
    “And Buddy should know,” Barbie muttered.
    Margie shot her a glint of disapproval, and the newspaper lady immediately got defensive. “Oh, Margie, you know I like Buddy. And he’s definitely hot. Hell, if I were twenty years younger and single, I’d offer to rock him like a porch swing in a wind storm. But you’ve got to admit, he’s a hound. He’s used to getting whatever he wants when it comes to women.” She again blew on her spoonful of hot dish. “And if the stories are true, he’s even contracted a few things he didn’t want.”
    After a wink in my direction, she tipped the hot dish into her mouth. “Nummy.” She drew out the “e” sound. “This is really good.” She once more pivoted in the direction of the stove.
    “Don’t you dare double dip,” Margie growled.
    Barbie lifted her hands in the air like a criminal caught in the act. “I’m not. See?” She backed away, easing over to the sink and dropping her spoon into the deep basin. It landed with a ping. “Now I’ve got to go and see what else I can learn at the piler. Hopefully the sheriff’s gone.” She glanced at me. “And hopefully you’ll come with me.”
    I had no desire to get embroiled in another murder. Asking Barbie a question or two was one thing. Actively pursuing an investigation was something else entirely. Been there. Done that. It hadn’t ended well. In fact, I still was having nightmares. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here and help Margie.”
    “Wait a minute. You’d rather work in a kitchen than investigate a crime?” Barbie knitted her brow. “Emme, you’re a terrible cook. But you’ve proven yourself a damn good investigator. And I could use the help.”
    As nice as her words sounded, I didn’t allow myself to be flattered. Barbie had an ulterior motive. She wanted me to move up here and work for her at the paper. That’s why she complemented me every chance she got. Her plan was that I’d take over once she retired. But I wasn’t sure about being a small-town journalist. Nor was I sure about living in a county where the largest town had fewer than a thousand residents. It would mean a sixty-mile commute for gourmet coffee or shopping. Not that I’m a snob. But sixty miles? Really?
    And when it came right down to it, I only stumbled along as a reporter, in spite of how it may have appeared. Sure, I’d solved a homicide, but my efforts had little to do with investigative prowess and lots to do with an insatiable appetite for snooping, not to mention plain old dumb luck. As my dad used to say, even a blind