Apple Cider Assault (Firefly Junction Cozy Mystery Book 19) by London Lovett

Author:London Lovett [Lovett, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Fox Press
Published: 2024-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

I'd texted Raine that I had good news for Tucker's case, but she hadn't returned my text. She usually had a full schedule on Mondays, which included working for my sister, Lana. Raine helped with flower arrangements, garland making, cutting out decorations and everything that Lana needed for her events. After my chat with Annie, I decided it was time to talk to Tracy. I knew she was a bank manager, and a quick search of the local banks led me to the right branch. It wasn't ideal to talk to someone at work, but sometimes you had to improvise.

I pulled into the bank parking lot. It was almost empty, which was usually the case for banks with everyone doing their banking online. My phone rang before I could get out of the car.

"Hey, Raine."

"Ugh, I finally broke free from my chains to call you back."

"Yes, it was quite the harrowing task, cutting paper fall leaves on a die-cut machine," Lana called from somewhere in the room.

"Paper cuts, madam, paper cuts," Raine yelled back. "Anyhow, what's up? You said you had good news."

"So far, yes. Tucker's neighbor insists he didn't start his very noisy truck until after nine on Sunday. That fits with his alibi that he was home until then. I let Jackson know. He told me Tucker isn't off the hook yet, but he released him because so far all he has is the gun."

"Thank you so much, Sunni. What a relief. I knew he didn't do it."

"Again, he's not off yet, but I think this will help."

"Still, I owe you," Raine said. "Lunch at Layers? Say in a half hour? If I can stay free of the chains," she added wryly.

"Sounds good. I might be a little late, so order me a Paul Newman. I'm in the mood for roast beef on rye."

"Right, see you there."

I put the phone in my pocket and adjusted my press pass. I was still working on my reason for showing up to Tracy's workplace to ask questions. I walked into the bank. There were two young tellers behind the bulletproof glass, chatting while they waited for customers. A woman in a light green coat and skirt walked out from one of the side offices. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, I'm looking for Tracy Goodwyn."

The woman's face smoothed to a frown, and it suddenly occurred to me—something that should have been obvious—Tracy wasn't working today because her cousin had died the day before. "I'm sorry, Miss Goodwyn is out due to a death in the family. We don't expect her back for a few days. Perhaps there's something I can help you with?"

"No, I need to talk to her specifically. Thank you for your time."

The morning had gone perfectly, but this next strand of my investigation had fallen flat. I could always find out where Tracy lived and approach her at home, but something told me she wouldn't take too kindly to the visit, especially after I sat in on the contentious SBS meeting.

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