Joy and Mirth: A Stratford Upon Avondale Mystery (The Stratford Upon Avondale Mysteries Book 12) by Knightley Monica

Author:Knightley, Monica
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-26T00:00:00+00:00

11

Wednesday, December 12th

“What a typically boring Wednesday this is,” Casey whined as she decorated a batch of sugar cookies. “I hate Wednesdays. I thought with the Festival going it wouldn’t be so slow around here.”

Merry Wives had been quiet all morning. So had the Festival and the other shops in the village. For whatever reason, Wednesday was always our down day. However, I knew the Festival would be a little busier later in the day, so Casey and I were using the lull in customers to prep goodies for the booth. Eric was in the dining room, waiting on the one occupied table and keeping watch for any other customers.

So when I heard the bell above the front door ring out, I was pleasantly surprised we had more business.

Seconds later, the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen swung open violently, and an obviously angry Petrovic stood in the center of the kitchen.

“Maggie, may I have a word?” There was no warm friendliness in his voice. It was more of a bark.

Casey stepped in front of him and stuck her face close to his. “You’re awfully red in the face, Detective, maybe you should sit down for a minute. Or two. Can I get you some water?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped at her. “This place is practically empty. I’m sure Maggie can step over to the station for a few minutes.”

I exchanged looks of confusion with Casey.

“I’m sure I can,” I told him. “However, I’d like to know what I did wrong to warrant this.”

“You’ve done nothing. I just need to talk to you.”

Something had really gotten in his craw, and it looked like I’d be the unlucky person who’d be the recipient of his foul mood.

“Casey, I’ll be right back,” I told her as I wiped my hands on a towel.

“No, she might be gone for a little longer than that,” Petrovic said to Casey as if I wasn’t in the room.

Casey ignored him and grinned at me. “Take your time, Maggie.” I could see her trying to stifle a laugh. She knew only too well the difficult past experiences I’d had with the man. I gave her a slight shake of my head.

Petrovic was silent on the short walk to the station. Tension sprang off of him. He kept his hands deep in his down jacket’s pockets, and his jaw muscles were being given quite the workout. Despite all the problems I’d had with the man through the years, I’d never seen him so clearly outraged. But outraged about what?

We entered the police station, and without even acknowledging Officer Rennard, Petrovic led me directly to the interview room. I sat and folded my hands in my lap as he closed the door and sat down across the table from me. Anxiety, fed from PTSD associated with other unpleasant times spent in this small, confined room across from this man, combined with his apparent anger, came over me in waves. I found myself nervously massaging my fingers.

He drummed his fingertips on the tabletop.

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