Star-Spangled Murder: A Piper Sandstone Cozy Mystery by Karen McSpade

Author:Karen McSpade [McSpade, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Newcastle Media
Published: 2026-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

The drive to the hospital was heavy with anticipation, an unspoken tension filling the air. We sat in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts about the events that had unfolded so far. The car’s hum was the only sound, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of questions spinning in our minds. We had so many questions that needed answers, and we were now more determined than ever to get them.

As we pulled up to the hospital, the gray stormy sky mirrored our collective mood. The clouds hung low, heavy, and foreboding, threatening rain at any moment. The air outside was thick with moisture, making everything feel damp and oppressive.

We parked and made our way through the hospital entrance, the automatic doors whooshing open to admit us into a world of stark, fluorescent lighting and the sterile smell of disinfectant. The corridors were bustling with activity—nurses pushing carts, doctors consulting charts, and patients shuffling by in hospital gowns. The smell of bleach was almost overpowering, a constant reminder of the clinical environment we were in.

We walked in a single file, our shoes squeaking slightly on the polished linoleum floor. Finally, after what seemed like a labyrinth of hallways, we arrived at Alfred’s room. His face lit up when he saw us, but there was a deep weariness in his eyes, a kind of exhaustion that went beyond physical fatigue.

“Hey, Alfred,” I greeted, forcing a smile despite the heavy feeling in my chest. “How are you holding up?”

Alfred gave us a tired but genuine smile. “Sad that I’m not well enough to attend my own daughter’s funeral,” he replied, his voice tinged with genuine sorrow. There was a hoarseness to his voice, a hint of the strain he had been under. “What brings the Queen Bee’s Private Eyes to my humble hospital room?”

“We need to talk to Rodney,” Rosemary said, cutting straight to the point. Her tone was serious, leaving no room for small talk. “Is he here?”

Alfred glanced at the door, then back at us. “He beat you here by ten minutes at the most. I hated asking Rodney to leave the memorial service, but my health… well, it’s… slipping fast,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “He stepped out to grab some coffee. He should be back soon.”

Almost on cue, Rodney entered the room, holding a steaming cup. His eyes widened in surprise at seeing us; he was clearly not expecting our visit. “Sheriff. Ladies. What brings you here?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern, masking the underlying tension I was willing to bet he was feeling. “Is the memorial over already?”

Jake stepped forward, his expression serious and unwavering. “Rodney, we need to talk,” he said, his tone leaving no room for evasion. “We’ve seen the security footage from the practice run.”

Rodney’s face paled slightly, a flicker of panic crossing his features. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice betraying his attempt to sound casual. He set the coffee cup on a small table, his hands trembling slightly.

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