This Way to Murder: The Board Game Cafe Mysteries by Shelley Shearer

Author:Shelley Shearer [Shearer, Shelley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tannhauser Press
Published: 2024-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Despite looking like a mall Santa on steroids, Sheriff Aidan Marrow’s sheer existence in front of me made me nervous. I was not getting ho-ho-ho vibes. I’d always been a good girl. Except for that brief time in college, but college never counted, right? I returned my library books on time, paid my taxes, and waited for the walking signal before crossing the road. It was not as if there was a skeleton in my closet. He did just find me with a dead guy who I’d sort of, maybe, threatened recently.

Sheriff Marrow leaned back in the leather office chair. Jason had turned over the library for questions. The Sheriff’s eyes trained on me as I rifled through my vast stores of trivial knowledge to remember everything I could about body posture. Don’t cross your arms, or you’ll appear defensive. Sit relaxed yet alert. While he allowed me a few more minutes to squirm, his eyes traveled around the room, stopping above my head.

‘Breathe,’ I reminded myself. ‘In and out. You’re innocent, and this is a routine procedure.’

“Alright, Ms. McKenna, why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”

“Okay. I came back to the inn to see if things were okay, but I wanted to finish my ice cream first. Because it was starting to drip, you know? And I didn’t want to have it drip in the house, and I remembered there was this cute bench in the garden.” I paused, and he continued to stare at me. “So I went that way and tripped. Over him.”

“Did you touch anything?”

“No. Oh, wait. I sort of nudged him with my foot,” I admitted.

“I see. Any idea why his shirt was covered in ice cream?”

I noticed a stray rainbow sprinkle clinging to my hand. “Oh, so I dropped it when I fell. And then I think I moved the ice cream off his back? But that’s it. Those three things were all I did.”

“Did you recognize him?” He idly played with a pen in his hand while he talked.

“Not at first. But yes, my friend Trace and I ran into him at the diner when we got into town. Well, we didn’t run into him with like a car.” I winced, realizing what I had said. “I mean, we were there. And he was there at the same time. At the diner,” Yup, nervous babbling. Innocent people do that.

“And did you talk with him?”

“No, I mean yes, but not really.” I winced.

Sheriff Marrow got that look on his face that I often see with people running out of patience with my roundabout answers.

“Okay, so we were there eating, and he, Scott, came over and barged into our conversation. We tried to get him to leave and then he tried to get handsy with Trace.”

“And did having Mr. Nelson hit on your friend upset you?” He asked in a tone that implied he would completely understand if it had put me into a murderous rage.

“Of course. He was being a rude jerk who thought our world should stop because he graced us with his presence.

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