Ice Cold Killer by London Lovett

Author:London Lovett [Lovett, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Fox Press

Eighteen

I placed the last of the cookies in the basket and covered them with a red and white checked napkin. I realized I couldn't show up at the Snowstone house without an excuse. People always brought casseroles and baked goods when families were in mourning, and, frankly, no matter your state of mind, you'd be hard pressed to turn down a warm batch of my chocolate chip cookies. My sincere hope was that they were magical enough to warm my way into the house for a friendly conversation. It was unclear whether or not Trudy knew I was Cora's sister. It was entirely possible I'd be turned away, cookies and all, just because of Cora. From what Norwich had said, it seemed Trudy wasted no time tossing out Cora's name to police.

Cora had stuck to her promise to spend the day in bed. Opal was deep into one of her movie marathons. Sunday always had several to choose from. Today it was a silent movie marathon so it was entirely likely that she would be watching herself but in Rudy Valentino form. As far as I knew, Nate was still up in his room, although the empty pail and fishing rod leaning against the back wall of the house indicated that he had done some fishing for the pelican. Winston had been called into work for a few hours and Tobias had mentioned he was going to be on his computer most of the day writing correspondences and updates to his clients.

I put on my layers of winter gear and picked up the basket. Huck trotted happily to the back door assuming the basket of goodies meant a walk to Olive's house. I patted him on the head. "Not today, buddy." I sensed he was quite lost not being able to hang out with Nate. He understood my words and expression enough to plod back to his bed.

The earlier clouds that had promised snow had moved over the island and settled across the harbor on the mainland. A blue sky was left behind, and the unfiltered sunlight was creating a good amount of mush on the trail. By this evening, when the sun had set, the mush would turn to slick ice.

I tried hard to avoid the softest parts of the trail. I was certain Trudy wouldn't invite me in if my boots were caked in mud. "Inheritance," I said to myself. I hadn't even thought about who might be the main beneficiary of Simon's fortune. With his son no longer speaking to him, had Simon cut him out of the will? Was the ex-wife still the beneficiary? Did the whole estate fall to June, his daughter? And where did his brother fit in with it all? So many questions to be answered.

The bright sun had created a shallow, clear puddle of water on the road leading to Simon's house. I dabbed my muddy boots in the water to give them a good rinse, pounded them dry and walked up the paved pathway leading to the front door.

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