Wedding Waffle Murder by Carolyn Q Hunter

Author:Carolyn Q Hunter [Hunter, Carolyn Q]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Summer Prescott Books
Published: 2018-04-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

* * *

Sonja’s mother and father had tried to encourage her to head home and relax until this all blew over. Like any parent, they were worried about her emotions on such an important day—especially now that it had gone so wrong.

However, Sonja had insisted that they should help in the search if at all possible, claiming that she would be just fine.

She’d had to give the same speech to Alison as well before finally getting out the door and into Frank’s car. They drove over to the farmhouse at a speedy pace.

Pete was standing on the porch, holding the door open and yelling into the house when they pulled up. “Jay, have you seen my shovel?”

“Which one, dear?” Jay returned.

“The one I was going to use to dig the foundation for the shed,” he insisted like she should know. “It has my initials on the handle?”

Upon hearing the crunch of tires on dirt, he turned to see the police cruiser and the Williams’ car arriving. “What’s this now?” he wondered with concern.

Frank and Sonja climbed out of the vehicle.

“Sheriff? Is something wrong?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“Who is it, hon?” Jay called.

“It’s the sheriff.”

“I think you better have a look at this,” Frank noted, handing him the letter. “Trina and Rick found it at your hunting cabin.”

“What were they doing up there?”

“Just read it,” he instructed.

Looking down at the paper, Pete’s eyes widened. “Oh, my word. This can’t be real.”

“That’s what we’re going to find out. Perhaps we should all go inside and talk,” Frank suggested.

* * *

“You’ve interfered with our plans one too many times? Whose plans? I have no idea who these people are,” Pete muttered after reading the note for the fifth time.

They sat in the farmhouse’s living room on the old couches and easy chairs.

“What are we going to do, sheriff?” Jay asked, trying to hold back her own set of tears. Trina was doing enough crying for the both of them.

“First things first. Pete, I need you to think very hard. Is there anyone you know who might have a grudge against you?”

Pete shrugged. “Honestly, Sheriff. I have no idea who these people are.”

“There hasn’t been any sort of business deals that have gone sour, a building you built that a customer was dissatisfied with?”

“Nothing comes to mind, at least nothing major. I swear I don’t have enemies.”

“It’s those hippies, I’m telling you,” Rick chimed in.

Frank narrowed his eyes at the man. “Rick, I want you to stop talking about Randall and his team now.”

“But I know I’m right,” he insisted.

“Rick, please. Just stop,” Trina insisted, her face growing even redder from embarrassment.

“Rick, trust me. They’re scientists. Astronomers studying the effects of pollution on how we view the changing sky.”

“What?” he asked, a look of confusion coming over his face.

“I asked them myself after everyone in town wouldn’t stop gossiping about it,” Frank finally revealed. “Because our air up here is still relatively clean, there are getting readings here and comparing them to another more urban area.

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