Cremas, Christmas Cookies, and Crooks_A Cape Bay Cafe Mystery Book 6 by Harper Lin

Author:Harper Lin [Lin, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, Mystery & Detective, Private Investigators, Collections & Anthologies, Traditional, Women Sleuths, Fiction, amateur sleuth, Cozy
Google: fkgzDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Harper Lin Books
Published: 2017-10-15T05:52:00+00:00

Chapter 17

FIRST THING THE NEXT MORNING, I headed to Cape Bay High for my meeting with Principal Marcus Varros. Walking down the hall past the already-full classrooms, I felt the same ridiculous missing-hall-pass anxiety as I had the week before when I’d gone to the school to see Veronica Underwood. I wondered how many visits it would take to get over it. Not that I particularly planned to be visiting the high school on a regular basis. Especially not on murder-related business.

“Good morning, Franny!” Mrs. Bayless chirped as I opened the office door.

“Good morning, Mrs. Bayless!”

“Good morning, Franny!” Mrs. Crawford’s voice came from somewhere in the back.

“Good morning!” I called back.

“I’ll just let Marcus know you’re here, and then you can go back,” Mrs. Bayless said. She stood up from her desk and went back to the open door behind her. “Franny Amaro is here for you, Marcus.”

I cringed just a little at her calling me Franny. Not that I minded her calling me that—I just hoped the principal didn’t think that was the name I usually went by.

It was.

“Franny, come in!” the man boomed from somewhere I couldn’t see.

I sighed then plastered on a big smile and headed for his office.

As I passed Mrs. Bayless, she shoved a piece of paper in my hand. “The information you asked for,” she said.

I nodded. Veronica’s angry visitor. “Thank you.”

I stepped into Varros’s office, and Mrs. Bayless closed the door behind me.

“Good to meet you, Franny. Marcus Varros.” Varros stood up from behind his desk and stuck out his hand for me to shake. “Have a seat.”

I sat down in one of the chairs across the desk from him and immediately felt tiny in comparison to him. Was the chair lower than a normal chair? Was his extra tall? Were my two-decade-old anxieties about being sent to the principal’s office messing with my head and making me imagine that he was looming over me when he wasn’t?

“So what can I do for you today, Franny?” he asked.

“Uh, Fran,” I said. “You can call me Fran.”

He chuckled good-naturedly. “Fran it is. Now what can I do for you?”

I gave him the same line I’d given Mrs. Bayless about needing some forms filled out for my taxes since I was donating the refreshments for the play.

“Not a problem,” he said, and I handed him the basic, vaguely official-looking documents I’d cobbled together the night before. “I can go ahead and fill these out for you if you don’t mind waiting here a few minutes.”

“That would be perfect!” I said. And it would be. It would give me time to try to engage him in conversation about Veronica Underwood’s murder. I waited for several seconds while he got started filling out the first form in hopes that he’d be focused enough on that to not pay too much attention to what I was talking about. “I was sorry to hear about Veronica’s murder,” I finally said. “It must be quite a loss to the school community.

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