Planet of the Grapes by Kirsten Weiss

Author:Kirsten Weiss [Weiss, Kirsten]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: humor, female sleuth, cooking, Amateur detective, witches of doyle, X-files, Animals, Cozy Mystery, Pets
ISBN: 9781944767358
Publisher: misterio press
Published: 2018-09-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“It figures you'd be attacked in a flying saucer.” A characteristically grumpy Sheriff McCourt stared at the wreckage of the VIP tent. Forklift tracks ran across one of the painted aliens. No one had bothered to unplug the colored lights, and they flickered erratically. A redheaded man in a winery t-shirt and ballcap paced nearby, talking into his cell phone.

Morning sun warmed my shoulders. “Can you fingerprint the forklift?” I asked, blotting my coffee-stained khakis with a damp towel.

Her jaw clenched. “What do you think?” She jammed her hat harder on her head and scowled.

Okay, that had been a stupid question. But in fairness, I was still recovering from my near-death experience.

“Maybe we'll get lucky,” she said, “and the driver won't have worn gloves. Or we'll get even luckier, and their prints will be in a database. Or…”

A pair of tentacled aliens ambled past.

“Or?” I prompted.

“Or it was an accident, a forklift versus UFO hit and run.”

“Sure.” I brushed harder at the coffee stain. It wasn’t coming out in this lifetime. “You must see those all the time.”

“This is the second attempt on Susan's life.” Arsen rested one hand on his pocket knife holster, and his brows drew downward. “You may not be taking this seriously, but I am.”

“The second attempt on her life?” She arched a brow. “You sure about that?”

Arsen frowned at me. “Were there others?”

“No!” I said. “But throwing a rock at me wasn't super effective. It was probably more of a warning—”

“Or prank.” The sheriff shrugged out of her uniform jacket and handed it to a passing deputy.

“If you’d fallen badly,” Arsen said, “you could have cracked your head open.”

“And the person who drove the forklift might not have known I was in the tent,” I said.

“Some kids could have got ahold of the forklift,” Sheriff McCourt said, eyeing Arsen. “Another prank. Made simpler when someone left the keys inside.” She jerked her head toward the redheaded man, and he paled.

“The festival wasn't open to the public yet,” Arsen said. “Only VIPs and festival workers were inside. Josh had no reason to think someone would steal it.”

The sheriff studied me. “So, which of the VIPs were here at the time?”

“I saw Bridget Konrach in the tent before the forklift, um, incident,” I said.

“Aleta Bradford, Jane Thorpe and Yuri Polyak were also here,” Arsen said. “I checked with security.”

“Yuri,” the sheriff said. “Is he that abductee weirdo?”

My neck stiffened. Then it ached. I resisted the urge to rub my bruise. “I wouldn't call him a weirdo.”

She shot me a look hard enough to flatten a crop circle.

“Doyle can hardly hold itself up as an abductee-free zone,” I said, defensive.

She sighed. “All right. I just like to think that our abductees are better.”

“Better than what?” Arsen asked.

“Wait,” I said. “Are you telling me the Doyle Disappeared really were kidnapped by UFOs?”

“No, I'm not saying that,” she snapped. “It was a gas leak.”

“But you said—”

“Refresh my memory – why would Bridget Konrach want you dead?” She adjusted her hat, angling it to better block the sun.

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