Skating Under the Wire: A Mystery (Rebecca Robbins Mysteries) Read Online Free Page B

and braced myself for Sean’s wrath.
    “She might have a point.”
    Maybe I’d actually fallen down the stairs and was currently hallucinating. “What?”
    Sean smiled, enjoying my confusion. “You have a disturbing knack for conning people around here into giving you information. It pisses me off, but I’m not above using it to catch the thief.”
    Huh. I was pretty sure I had just been insulted. I was going to complain when Sean added, “The victims are angry with the department for not catching the perp, and I can’t blame them. If we have another burglary this year, the sheriff can kiss his job good-bye and I’ll be demoted to dogcatcher.”
    Sentencing Sean to a life of yappy Pomeranians and annoyed pit bulls was appealing payback after his past threats to arrest me for obstruction. If it weren’t for my promise to Mrs. Johnson, that image might encourage me to sit this one out. Oh well.
    “So you aren’t going to yell and threaten to arrest me for nosing into your case?”
    Sean leaned back against the door. “Nope. In fact, I’m encouraging you to go out there and be your nosiest.”
    This seemed too good to be true. Maybe my luck in Indian Falls was changing. I should probably stop at Slaughter’s Market and pick up a lottery ticket before it changed back.
    “Just remember that you’re required to report any new evidence to our office. Otherwise, I might have to revoke the nice-guy routine.” Sean opened the front door and added, “I’d really hate to upset your grandfather by arresting you during the holidays.”
    “Wait. You’re saying you want me to do the work and let you take the glory?”
    Sean gave me a cocky smile. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Have a nice night.” With a wink and a slam of the door, he was gone.
    So much for thinking my luck had improved. Well, at least I wasn’t alone. Sean had just ensured I’d do everything in my power to catch the Thanksgiving thief. If he thought I was going to give him all the credit, though, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
    Fueled by righteous indignation, and a need to see Sean running after dogs with a net, I headed out the door to my car. It was time to question Betsy Moore and get this investigation started.

 
    Three
     
    The Moore farm was a fifteen-minute drive from downtown. Betsy had taken over the family business of raising horses and growing soybeans when her parents up and moved to Miami. She had been three years behind me in school, and the age gap had prevented us from being chummy. We still weren’t what you would call friends—especially not since this summer, when she showed up on Lionel’s arm at the town’s dinner dance. Had a well-meaning person not shared her identity, I certainly would never have recognized her. The Betsy I’d known had had stringy hair and braces and was flat as a pancake. Postpuberty Betsy had perfect teeth, a great stylist, and a D-cup bra size. Lionel had picked buxom Betsy as his dinner-dance date to make me jealous. By the time the night was over, Lionel had defected from her side and she’d been consoling herself with the new lawyer in town. Word on the street said Betsy and the lawyer were still together. I hoped the gossips were right. Otherwise, this visit could get downright awkward.
    The lights were on inside the house as I pulled into the Moores’ long gravel driveway. I checked the dashboard clock. According to the bright green numbers, I had almost a half hour before I had to be at Lionel’s.
    In the dark it was hard to tell whether the rambling farmhouse was gray or blue. I climbed up the steps of the wraparound porch, rang the doorbell, and huddled into my coat as I waited for Betsy to answer.
    I heard something thunk at the other end of the porch and squinted into the dark. Nothing there. Must be the wind.
    Or not. Could the wind make scratching sounds? Or growl?
    Yikes. Farmers had been complaining about the number of coyotes eating their chickens this year. I