Chopping Spree by Diane Mott Davidson

Author:Diane Mott Davidson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Adult
ISBN: 9780553107302
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2001-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

I finished the pears, dropped them into a simmering, barely sugared syrup, and gave directions to Tom for the poaching and finishing. Then I grabbed my coat and announced I was off to pick up Arch. Tom grinned and swore he’d have dinner ready when we got back.

In the gathering twilight, I held my husband’s smile in my mind as I zipped toward Elk Park. Maybe he wasn’t too mad at Dr. Gertrude Shoemaker, impostor neurologist, after all. I knew it irked him when I tried to insert myself into his cases… but I never did it when I didn’t have some kind of personal stake in solving the crime. Someone shoots out our window, poisons a client at an event I’m catering, or kills a fellow and exults when our family friend is arrested for the crime—yes, I was going to get involved. As they used to say in my native New Jersey, Whaddayathink I’m gonna do?

Darkness blew in along with charcoal clouds from the west. The high hills covered with pine trees turned to black velvet. A whirl of snow fogged the windshield; I flipped on the wipers. I thought of the scantily clad, hapless lacrosse players. Welcome to springtime in the Rockies!

I turned through the massive stone gates and gunned the van up the winding driveway that led to Elk Park Preparatory School. A caravan of four-wheel-drive vehicles, their lights on, sped down the driveway in the opposite direction. The kids must have been dismissed early. A lot of parents actually watched the practice, then called the coach later to offer unconstructive criticism. I wondered if that was why Shane had quit.

Snow swirled into the parking lot. Half a dozen Lexuses and BMW’s, their engines running, clustered by the pathway that came down from the fields. High above the lot, by the portable toilet at the edge of the fields, a few camel’s-hair-clad parents stamped their feet and clapped with mittened hands. Arch would die of embarrassment if I even showed my face at lacrosse practice, so I stayed put.

And that was how I saw Shane Stockham threaten a woman. Again.

The two figures first attracted my attention when they whacked open the thick wooden doors of the headmaster’s house. They paid no attention to the resultant crash or echoing bang of hinges. Shane Stockham I recognized instantly: His stocky body, rigid stance, and distinctive gait were unmistakable. He wore a ten-gallon hat and a sheepskin jacket—de rigueur Colorado wear for the upscale wannabe cowboy. Raised voices indicated things weren’t going well between him and his companion, a fashionable-looking woman wearing a mid-calf trench coat and leather boots. A twisted Burberry scarf held her blond-brown hair in place. She walked swiftly and gave off an assured, regal air. At one point, she stopped by an electric lantern to listen to Shane. After a moment, she reached out to touch his shoulder. He slapped her hand away and vigorously told her to shut up. The woman, momentarily thrown off balance, recovered and yelled at Shane to back off.

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