As Gouda as Dead by Avery Aames Page A

flowers. One of the guys offered Ray a cigarette. He lit up. However, when he realized Zach Mueller, the rangy young man who’d recently quit the pastry shop, was also in line, Ray dropped the cigarette to the ground, demolished it with his boot heel, and glowered at the kid. If looks could kill.
    Zach caught sight of Ray. His lip twitched in a snarl, but he made tracks in the opposite direction, right past a balloon artist at a pushcart. Thanks to the force of Zach’s departure, Mylar balloons, in the shapes of wedding bells or hearts, bopped against one another. The balloon artist shouted something at Zach, who made a rude gesture and ran straight at me, almost knocking me down. I
eek
ed. He swooped his shaggy bangs out of his eyes, but he didn’t offer an apology. No
oops
. Nothing.
    Nice
, I mused.
    Deputy O’Shea, who was standing in line for a balloon, caught sight of me and yelled, “Are you okay?”
    I nodded. He moved ahead to receive a balloon and held a finger to his mouth. I winked, offering my silent pledge that I would not tell Rebecca anything about the gift I was certain she was going to receive.
    Inside the Victorian house that served as the Providence Precinct—the Tourist Information Center shared the foyer space—I saw a group of women huddling in the corner. They looked sly, like they were keeping the world’s greatest secret. When a toothy redhead spotted me, she tapped another’s elbow. I knew the redhead—her name started with an S. She was always complaining, upset with a homeowner’s board or the PTA. One by one, her pals turned to gawk at me.
    Ah, if only I had the nerve to do something risqué and shock them all.
    Instead, I strode to the clerk, a gray-haired woman with a heart-shaped face. I explained my mission and was instantly permitted access to Chief Urso.
    I found him in his office, sitting behind his desk. He was outlined by a halo of sunlight that filtered through the Levelor blinds covering the window behind him. The sandwich he’d received earlier at the shop sat uneaten on his desk, the wrapper still sealed with stickers.
    Urso rose slightly.
    I waved him to sit back down. “Don’t stand on my account.”
    â€œWhat’s up?” He guiltily eyeballed his uneaten sandwich.
    â€œDon’t worry. I’m not offended,” I said. “My appetite is at an all-time low, too. I simply stopped in to give you an update on something I learned.”
    He heaved a sigh. “You’re not actively pursuing—”
    â€œNo. Well, not on purpose. Rebecca’s right. You could temporarily deputize me.”
    â€œCharlotte—”
    â€œTim was my friend, U-ey. I’m going to ask questions.” I sat in the chair opposite his desk like an equal. He didn’t boot me out, so I continued. “Something Dottie Pfeiffer said made me want to follow up. Did she or Ray come in and talk to you?”
    â€œNo.”
    I told him about Dottie inferring that Violet had a thing for Tim. “She said they flirted that night. So, wondering whether Violet had an inkling about what Tim might have seen, I decided to contact her.”
    â€œYou
what
?”
    â€œDon’t raise your voice. I visited her at the inn. I asked a few questions. Nothing official.”
    He scowled at me.
    I folded my arms across my chest. “She denied flirting with Tim. In fact, she denied any relationship at all.”
    â€œDo you believe her?”
    â€œYes, which means I can cross Frank Mueller off my list of suspects.”
    â€œ
Your
list?”
    I ignored the snarky remark. “According to Dottie, Frank was carrying a torch for Violet, but if Violet wasn’t interested in Tim, then—”
    â€œYou can rule out Frank either way. He has a solid alibi. He was at Jordan’s party. With me.”
    â€œI missed seeing him there.”
    â€œHe was.”
    â€œGreat,” I said.
Case solved
.