The Case of the Faithful Frenchie by B R Snow

Author:B R Snow [Snow, B R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy mystery
ISBN: 9781942691129
Published: 2017-03-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

After spending most of the day with Claudine and Caspian, I wanted to spend the evening surrounded by friends. More specifically, after witnessing the impact that a solitary lifestyle could have on one’s psyche, the last thing I wanted was to be alone. But Josie was with Summerman, and Chef Claire was working. So I called Jackson and Detective Abrams and invited them to dinner, ostensibly to catch up on what we’d all learned about the bank robbery and the demise of Buggy Winters.

I got a beef stew simmering on the stove, then settled on the couch with Chloe and Captain while I waited for my dinner guests to arrive. As I rubbed both dogs’ heads, I glanced up at the bare wall above the fireplace and decided that perhaps a painting would be a nice addition. But not one that cost anywhere near forty-five grand. And definitely not At the Gates of Hell. I’d spent most of my day there, and the last thing I needed were any reminders.

Jackson and Detective Abrams arrived with their dogs in separate cars at the same time, and I got them settled in with a beer and a snack plate, while Jackson’s bulldog, Sluggo, and Detective Abrams’ Basset Hound, Wally, got reacquainted with Chloe and Captain.

“Dinner’s about twenty minutes away,” I said, tucking my legs underneath me as I sat back down on the couch.

“No wine tonight?” Jackson said, nodding at my empty hand.

“No, I had some this afternoon. And it seems like a good night to take a break from alcohol.”

“You want to talk about it?” Jackson said.

I recounted my visit with Caspian first. When I finished, both men seemed to have permanent frowns etched on.

“I can’t believe the old woman is gone,” Detective Abrams said. “I thought she was going to live forever.”

“Yeah, so did I. And I can’t believe Caspian wears that whiteface around the house,” Jackson said.

“Artists, huh?” Detective Abrams said, compiling a small plate of snacks from the tray on the coffee table in front of him. “You’re sure that Brock and Bentley know the deal about their mom having two kids from another father?”

“Yeah, Caspian said that she told them several years ago just so they could share the experience,” I said. “And it’s pretty clear she loathes both of them. She considers both of her brothers inveterate pond scum. Her words, not mine.”

“You think she could have been the one who killed Buggy?” Jackson said.

“I don’t think so, but I’ve learned never to assume anything,” I said, frowning. “And Caspian has a ton of rage just below the surface. I only got a glimpse of it this afternoon, but it scared the hell out of me.”

“I like Buggy’s girlfriend for it,” Jackson said.

“Why?”

“Why? Geez, Suzy, you spent half your day seeing it firsthand. That woman goes off like a rocket when she gets mad.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “By the way, what blood type does she have?”

“O positive,” Jackson said.

“So, you can’t exclude her as a suspect,” I said, reaching for a cracker.

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