Braking for Bodies by Duffy Brown Page B

I’d left it in front of the hotel. This was a sign from the gods of the wrongly accused to use my biking ability—or lack thereof—to make things right.
    I kicked up the stand, climbed on Yankee and coasted down Cadotte. I didn’t need a lot of speed; I just wanted to startle, not maim. I aimed for Sutter’s derrière . . . I’d seen worse targets in my life, I can tell you that. I got closer and closer, gaining a little more momentum till my front tire made contact with Sutter’s most excellent tush, propelling him forward.
    â€œWhat the heck!” Sutter let go of Fiona and Shakespeare, using his hands to break his fall. I hit the brakes, then accidentally-on-purpose toppled over on top of him; the bike landed off to the side in the grass. And here again was another dream I’d had of me on top and Sutter underneath, but
not
in front of the Grand Hotel.
    â€œGallop!” I yelled at Fiona, her mouth gaping, eyes bulging as she looked on, nothing registering. She couldn’t ride Yankee as her skirts would tangle in the spokes, so gallop was the escape of choice. Sutter struggled to get up, but my one hundred twenty-five pounds kept him pinned to the road. Okay, a hundred thirty but not a pound more, I swear.
    â€œShakespeare!” I yelled at Fiona and nodded at the horse. “Go! Now!”
    Fiona grabbed for the saddle, flung herself up onto the horse and took the reins. “Thanks!” she yelled downto me. Then Betsy Ross in full red, white and blue regalia with a flag draped across her shoulder thundered off into the sunset.
    I rolled off Sutter and stared at the sky as a throng of tourists gathered around. “Are you okay?” A young blonde woman hunkered down next to Sutter, her foot in my ribs. She swept Sutter’s hair off his forehead. “You poor thing.”
    â€œThis crazy woman here ran you down. I saw it all,” another woman added.
    â€œWant me to call the doctor?” a brunette asked, her behind perched on my chest. Terrific. The female contingent of the Nate Sutter fan club was now in session. “You should arrest her, she’s a menace.”
    â€œThat’s the plan.” Sutter reached around the woman and grabbed my arm.
    â€œWhat?” I protested as I sat up. “You can’t arrest me for having a biking accident. Everyone has biking accidents around here. We are probably the biking accident capital of the USA.”
    Sutter stood and hauled me to my feet, his face inches from mine. “I want to know what’s going on now, no more excuses. There’s a dead guy and I need to find the killer, got it?”
    â€œThis is part of the mystery weekend, isn’t it?” Gabi asked, all excited, as she ran up with her iPhone taking pictures. “This woman ran into that dead body last night,” she explained to the crowd. “It stands to reason she’s a suspect, and now the policeman just confirmed it.”
    Gabi rubbed her hands together, a crazed look in her eye. “I’m going to win that free weekend at the Grand Hotel if it kills me.” She winked. “A little mystery humor thrown in free of charge.”
    â€œSee,” Sutter smirked. “Now I
have
to lock you up on suspicion of murder. It’s all part of the game. After all, it’s murder and mayhem week at the Grand Hotel, so put on your deerstalker hat and get used to it, Chicago.”
    The walk to the police station took about five minutes instead of the usual ten. I tried to think of something clever and disarming to say but came up empty. Instead of going right in, Sutter detoured to the side of the building to park the bike. Shakespeare was already there at the watering trough with a feed bag of oats and chomping merrily away.
    â€œYeah,” I said to Sutter, “that Fiona girl is a master killer all right. A real menace to society.”
    Sutter led me into the newly painted white clapboard