A Frame of Murder : A Cozy Summertime Murder Mystery (Claire Andersen Murder for All Seasons Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) by Imogen Plimp

Author:Imogen Plimp [Plimp, Imogen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Murder for All Seasons Publishing
Published: 2021-07-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I walked down the hill in a daze. I felt like I was floating. I knew my friends were right, of course. If the “harem” rumors were true, Ray Hamilton had more of a motive to hurt Judd Muchesco than anyone else in town. He even had the motive to steal from Cal Olmstead, now that he knew he’d broken his only daughter’s heart. Fathers of daughters, they say. Hell hath no fury…

And yet—and my friends agreed with this part—Ray Hamilton didn’t have any reason to cause Fannie Francesca harm. Plus, the man had a heart of gold. Everybody knew it. But I’d been fooled before . . .

I vowed to put a pin in it and come back to the idea later, when my mind had calmed down a bit. It certainly wouldn’t do any good to dwell on such a terrible thought—that Ray and Ariana Hamilton had anything to do with Fannie’s murder, even if it were somehow accidental—not until I knew something for sure.

When Rupert and I reached home, I let myself in through the back door. Rupert preferred to stay outside, fruitlessly chasing squirrels and the occasional robin. I hung my keys on the coat hook by the back door, opened up the refrigerator, and started hunting around mindlessly. I was starved.

Lately I’d been on a little bit of a pasta kick. I find that sometimes happens during the summers: all my stomach wants is light pastas—that, or more complicated salads. After very little deliberation, I decided on spaghetti in a creamy garlic ricotta sauce with seared asparagus and a hint of lemon. I also doctored up a simple side salad of romaine, heirloom tomatoes from the farm stand, thinly sliced radishes, goat cheese, and a tart mustard vinaigrette (feeling guilty about my weekend of protein and fat overload, I guess).

While I was washing the lettuce, I gazed out the big bay windows over my cast iron sink, staring longingly at my vegetable and herb garden. The only part of tonight’s meal that had come from my own garden was the garlic… I wanted desperately to spend more time out there. I’d planned to spend most of my summer days tending to the vegetables—or out front, kneeling in my flower beds. Unfortunately, my summer so far seemed to have other plans. I’d been so busy!

I’d tucked myself into my kitchen-side nook with a refreshing glass of chamomile iced tea, squeeze of lemon—my plate licked clean—and was reading a thrilling crime novel while Rupert dozed on top of my feet … when I heard a distinctive bang-bang-bang at the front door.

Sheriff Sellers didn’t wait for me to answer. (He rarely does these days, my house being a commercial establishment and the site of many a crime-oriented event as of late.) “Mrs. Andersen?” his voice boomed down the hallway.

“Back here, Sheriff!” I called. “In the kitchen!”

I hopped up and dunked my dirty dishes into the sink, then met the sheriff at the kitchen island. Rupert lumbered out

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