Poaching Is Puzzling by Daryl Wood Gerber

Author:Daryl Wood Gerber
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mysteries & Thrillers
Publisher: Beyond the Page
Published: 2023-04-03T00:00:00+00:00

Deep dive: investigation, probe, search, trawl

“Mum’s. Now.” Bailey tapped my shoulder. “I’ve told your aunt where we’re headed.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’m starved, and you’re driving. My car’s in the shop for a tune-up.”

My pal could be a force, so I didn’t argue with her. I grabbed my completed puzzle and slung on my purse.

Minutes later, I parked in the Pier parking lot, and Bailey and I hightailed it to the diner, referred to by locals as either Mum’s or The Word—rarely the whole name, Mum’s the Word. We weren’t the only crossword solvers eager to receive our free potpie. At least thirty customers holding puzzles were waiting in a line outside, including Ulysses and Eva, who continued to wear black. The dress she had on was the kind you could wad into a ball, shove it into a suitcase, and it would still hang out wrinkle-free. They were standing together, chatting. Though he was brawny and she so slim, they made a handsome couple. She said something that earned her a one-armed hug from him. I imagined they were talking about Wesley.

When Bailey and I made it inside, I drew in a deep breath. The aroma of garlic and thyme was incredible. I’d eaten Mum’s regular pot pies. If their appetizers were one-tenth as good as the main dish, we were going to be happy campers. I scanned the cheery restaurant with its turquoise checkered tablecloths and yellow window treatments. Lunch customers filled each of the tables. No one seemed disappointed with their meals.

We proceeded toward the sales register.

“Hey, Jenna. Hey, Bailey,” a woman said from behind us.

I turned and saw Cinnamon. She was holding her cell phone in one hand and a puzzle in the other.

“Well, hi there,” I said. “You do crossword puzzles?”

She pocketed the phone. “Not all cops are dumb.”

“I didn’t say . . . I didn’t mean . . .” Playfully, I mock-glowered at her. “I simply meant you’d be too busy to take the time, and when and if you do take a break, you exercise.”

“Who said this one took any time? Done in four minutes and ten seconds.” She flaunted her puzzle. No erasures. All the same answers as I’d entered. “Once I saw the errors of my youthful ways,” she went on, “my mother made sure I enhanced my education with puzzles, word games, and more.”

“I would’ve expected her to make you knit.”

“Um, no. I didn’t have the knack. Knit, purl, drop two. I was a mess.” She leaned in close. “Have you discovered anything in the Preston murder case?”

I gawked at her. She’d been serious earlier about me keeping her in the loop? No way. Couldn’t be. She was goading me. “Not in the last two hours,” I joked.

“Hi, Jenna, Bailey, and Chief Pritchett,” the perky clerk at the register said as the line moved forward. “What do you three have there?”

We passed her our puzzles.

She surveyed the answers, studied our faces, and grinned. “You did it. Here you go.” She gave each of us a blue raffle-style ticket.

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