Death Crashes the Party Read Online Free Page A

his dad were meeting with Ralph first thing this morning to address the sudden staff shortage and to make sure freight would get out on time.
    I was ravenous and decided cereal just wouldn’t cut it. So I dressed and drove to Town Square Diner for a ham-and-eggs-and-biscuits breakfast. Just as I finished giving the waitress my order, Sheriff Dave slid into the booth across from me and said, “I’ll have the same.”
    â€œSo you’re having a bit of a late breakfast this morning, too,” I said. The clock on the wall indicated it was 8:45 a.m.
    â€œI don’t know if this is breakfast or lunch. I’ve been at it since before five this morning,” he said, taking off his hat and raking his fingers through a crop of dark, wavy hair.
    â€œIf you’re going to ask me to go through the whole discovering-the-bodies story again, you’ll have to wait until I’ve had something to eat. I just don’t have the energy for it.”
    â€œWe can skip that for now. I’m more interested in the fact that you seem to be trailing along behind me, talking to witnesses, and yakking to just about everybody else in town on the phone.”
    â€œI haven’t followed you anywhere, Sheriff Davidson,” I said, feeling pretty put out by his insinuation, especially after the grilling he had put me through on Monday at the Erdmans’. “I went by to see Mrs. Farrell to give her Darrell’s and Duane’s last paychecks, which I picked up from Ralph Harvey. And I haven’t called anyone in the past two days, except Larry Joe. My phone’s been ringing off the hook.”
    â€œThat so?” Dave said, his scowl softening into a smile around the edges.
    â€œYeah, that’s so. A double murder is pretty big excitement for a small town. I can’t believe you’re surprised it’s got everybody talking.”
    â€œI just wish all the gabbing I’ve listened to added up to one solid lead on this case,” Dave said, rubbing his eyes. He looked as wrung out as a dishrag. As sheriff of Delbert County, he was responsible for all the unincorporated areas of the county, along with contract coverage of the municipalities that were too small to have their own police department. Since there are only three towns in the county, and Hartville is the only one with its own police force, Dave and his small band of deputies have a lot of ground to cover.
    The waitress brought our orders, and we both nearly cleaned our plates before another word was spoken.
    I brushed a napkin across my lips. “Dave, the only thing I’ve heard about the Farrell boys that might have something to do with their deaths is that they apparently liked to smoke marijuana. Maybe they got on the wrong side of their dealer.”
    â€œNaw, I’m afraid that’s a dead end. The Farrells bought their weed from a kid at the high school who I’ve had a ‘Come to Jesus’ talk with on more than one occasion. And I’m pretty sure his grandma is growing the stuff he sells,” he sighed and shook his head. “They’re a family of morons, but they’re not dangerous.”
    Dave grabbed the check the waitress had left on the table. “I’ll take care of this,” he said, scooting out of the booth. “You can feel obligated to pass on to me any tidbits of information you pick up that might be pertinent.”
    I left a couple of dollars on the table, not knowing how much of a tip Dave had included with the bill. I spoke to my mom’s next-door neighbor, Bubba Rowland, who was sitting at the counter, then walked across the street and past the courthouse to my office on the other side of the square.
    Dixie has a town square like the ones that were once pretty typical in small towns, with a courthouse in the middle, surrounded by businesses and one-way streets on three sides. Our square has fared better than many since the sprawl of suburbia and the advent