Baking is Murder (A Bee's Bakehouse Cozy Mystery) (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries Book 1) by Kathy Cranston Page B

him in Dukefield.”
    Mike shrugged. “So? There’s no law against that.”
    “I know that,” Jessie said. “No, it was a detail I’d forgotten until I thought of something my mom always used to say to me.”
    “He was diabetic. I was there one morning in the Bakehouse when Aunt Bee and Julia were talking; I think it was the day after the murder. They discussed how he’d always been very quiet. Apparently, when he was diagnosed with diabetes, he became even more unfriendly. Get this: he’d go to the washroom to do his insulin; then he’d come back, quickly eat and storm out straight away.”
    Mike frowned. “So?” he said slowly. “Just cause he’s a moody guy doesn’t mean he’s capable of murder.” He glanced at Chief Daly, who was grinning widely. “I don’t know what you’re looking so pleased about.”
    Jessie shook her head. “No, you’re not getting it. His diabetes. That’s the key here. He used to go in the back to inject his insulin. Now, if he was out in a bar for an entire day, don’t you think he’d have had to go and do his insulin at least once? More, I’m guessing, if he needed to counter the effects of alcohol.”
    Mike stared at her blankly.
    “His alibi,” the chief said. “ Both his alibis said they were with him for the whole time. Now, if that were a regular situation, you might expect them to notice if their friend had disappeared for a half hour. But in this guy’s case, his friends were probably so used to him popping to the men’s room for prolonged periods right before he ate that they didn’t even bat an eyelid this time. All he had to do was slip out the back door to the parking lot and jump in his car.”
    Jessie shook her head. She still couldn’t believe it. But it was all over now.
    Mike sighed. “You could have been killed,” he said again.
    The chief clamped a huge arm around Mike’s shoulder. “Not on my watch, Mike. That animal is never going to hurt anyone again.”
    Mike sighed and made his way over to the lone TV crew on the edge of the driveway. The chief watched him go.
    “What got up his nose?” Jessie groaned. She was surprised by the mayor’s reaction—she had expected him to be happy that she’d managed to find out the truth, but instead he was acting like a bear with a sore paw.
    To her surprise, Chief Daly turned to her and smiled. “You don’t know?”
    “Know what?” she asked, shivering. The evening cool had given way to nighttime chill. That, coupled with the adrenaline leaving her body, was making it impossible for Jessie to get warm.
    “Come on. Let’s get you back to your aunt.”
    Jessie shivered again—for a different reason this time. “Can we maybe not tell her what happened?”
    The chief cringed. “I think it’s a little too late for that,” he whispered, before darting off in the opposite direction.
    “Aunt Bee, I didn’t—”
    Her aunt drowned her out. “What in the name of all that is good, Jessie Henderson? I mean, really? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
    She was about to ask how Aunt Bee had found out, but she knew that was a thoroughly pointless question. The woman seemed to know everything about everyone.
    “I just wanted to do the right thing.”
    Aunt Bee glared at her, her hands fidgeting by her sides. “I have a good mind to put you in that car and send you to bed without your dinner.”
    Jessie couldn’t help but laugh, despite the serious look on her aunt’s face. “Aunt Bee, I’m a thirty-seven-year-old woman. You can’t—”
    “I can do anything I want,” Bee snapped, stepping closer. “And if you do anything like that again, so help me…”
    Jessie folded her into her arms. “Now, that I can promise. I’m sorry for worrying you, Aunt Bee. I just couldn’t bear to see an innocent woman locked away.”
    Bee let out a tremendous sigh. “Oh, honey. I was so worried. You scared me. I know you did it for the right reasons. But still. If anything had happened to