Murder at the Blueberry Festival by Darci Hannah

Author:Darci Hannah [Hannah, Darci]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2022-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

“How rude!” It was unusual to see the unflappable Kennedy Kapoor so flustered, but that’s exactly what she was as she stomped across the church parking lot toward my Jeep, her full lips pressed into a thin line and her bright yellow purse carelessly flung over her shoulder.

“We’ve just been tossed out of church,” I said, taking long strides to keep up with her. My face was still hot from embarrassment. “It’s a first for me . . . maybe not for you, but I don’t like it. Why did you have to go in for the kill? Couldn’t you have just asked if he had talked with Lars Jorgenson after viewing the tape, or made a visit to his house?”

“The setting was making me uncomfortable,” she admitted. “Who plays piano in the basement of a church?”

“It’s his office,” I shot back.

“In my mind, there was no point in beating around the bush. I just wanted to make the accusation and see how he reacted.”

“Well, thanks for bringing me up to speed on your plan, Ken. As I recall, fifteen minutes ago, you were terrified at the thought of confronting a murderer in a church. Then you fling the accusation at the mayor—without any real proof!”

“I thought I was on to something. He looked guilty.” She paused to open the passenger-side door of the Jeep before adding, “In hindsight, I suppose I might have confused guilt with embarrassment.”

I buckled myself into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Ya think?” It was pure sarcasm. “Funny that neither of us confused guilt or embarrassment with anger. We read that one correctly.” I looked at my friend. “That footage of the parade wasn’t at all clear or conclusive. We saw what looked to be a man wearing a baggy windbreaker and a baseball cap carrying a couple of buckets into the awaiting crowd. We never clearly saw his face. Then he got others involved. Also, it would have taken a ton of time to make all those water balloons. As the mayor pointed out, it’s highly doubtful that only one person is responsible for these pranks.” I paused a moment as I pulled out of the parking lot. “Aside from a friendly hello, I barely knew Lars Jorgenson. Rod Jeffers did, however. He was quick to defend the man, and clearly thought it absurd that Lars could have pulled off a prank of that scale all on his own.”

“Yes,” she said, while rooting through her purse. “He made that quite clear before escorting us out the door. Doubtful we’ll be invited back. If God really does drink milk and my face is on the carton, I have that man to blame for it. Thrown out of the house of God!” She sounded almost affronted. Then, as if striking gold, she peeped with joy and held out her hand. “Care for a breath mint?”

I took my eyes off the road only long enough to pluck one from her hand and pop it in my mouth.

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