Murder By Milkshake (A Bite-sized Bakery Cozy Mystery Book 22) by Rosie A. Point

Author:Rosie A. Point [Point, Rosie A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

10

After lunch…

* * *

“Are we really doing this?” I asked.

“If Watson can do it, then so can we. It’s not technically illegal, you know.”

“It feels like it’s on the fringe,” I replied.

Bee bit down on her donut and chewed enthusiastically. “I’m excited. We’re getting somewhere.”

“I want to believe that’s more than just the sugar talking…”

Bee snorted and choked on confectioner’s sugar.

I patted her on the back until she gave me a thumbs up, then turned to consider Mr. Barlow’s house. We were back again. Back with no one else in sight. Then again, I couldn’t be sure that Watson wouldn’t jump out from behind a tree.

Bee scanned the street, perhaps thinking the same thing as I was. “It’s clear,” she said. “We can talk to him.”

We’d come back with the hopes that we’d get Mr. Barlow alone and get him to talk about his alibi. If he had a solid alibi, then we could clear him, but the truth was, that was unlikely to happen. Who had an alibi for 03:00 a.m., other than “I was asleep”?

“Let’s do this.” Bee opened the picket gate and we hurried onto the property.

Three quick knocks on the front door later, and the latch clicked. Mr. Barlow appeared, his eyes watery and red. “Yes? Wait, I know you. You were the two women who—” He started closing the door.

“Mr. Barlow, wait,” I said, quickly. “We’re here because we’re private investigators and reporters.”

“Huh? You’re both?”

Right. That didn’t make much sense, did it? “I’m the reporter,” I said.

“Private eye.” Bee thumbed her chest then looked over her shoulder. But no, still no Christie Watson haunting our steps. Yet.

“We need to talk to you about Norma,” I said. “It’s really important.”

“Why? Why should I talk to you?”

Shoot, we really should’ve brought some treats with us. Stymied by our lack of food truck, yet again. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” I said.

Mr. Barlow snorted.

“And because everyone in town thinks that you were the one who killed Norma.”

He seemed stunned by that revelation. “Me? But… I’m…”

“What?” I asked.

What was he, exactly? A sixty-year-old man who somehow managed to marry a young woman and have an affair with an even younger one? How was he pulling that off? It was crass to even think this, but it wasn’t like Mr. Barlow was particularly well-off either. He was a regular guy living in a regular house. Who stood to inherit an irregularly large sum of money.

We weren’t sure just how much yet.

“Nobody cares about me,” Barlow said at last. “They don’t even gossip about me. They think I’m just a boring old man.”

“But you aren’t,” I said. “You were having an affair.” My investigative journalist came out. “With Heidi. Isn’t that right?”

He let out a huff. “No. I wasn’t having an affair with Heidi. She’s my wife.”

Bee and I stood in silence for a millisecond, soaking that in.

“She’s your what?” Bee asked. “But Norma…”

“She was my wife too,” he said. “I love them equally.”

“You married two women? Did they know about each other?” I asked.

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