Butter Off Dead by Leslie Budewitz

family. Everyone thought Christine was her granddaughter, but she was a complete stranger who wormed her way into a lonely old lady’s life.” Sally spat out the words, ignoring Nick’s sputtered protests. “That—that painter convinced Iggy to leave her everything.
Everything
. Cutting out her family, her rightful heirs.”
    Last summer, Sally had informed me that not everyone in the village approves of the emphasis on food. Apparently she didn’t care for our reputation as a haven for artists, either.
    â€œThis one”—her mad eyes darted toward Nick—“made all lovey-dovey and got her to leave it all to him. And then—”
    â€œI get the picture, Sally,” Kim said.
    Nick let out a long, ragged breath. “I won’t pretend to know what two dead women—two kind, generous women—were thinking. But I loved Christine Vandeberg, and I had nothing to do with her death.”
    â€œHow do you know any of this?” Kim asked Sally.
    â€œHer lawyer called. He knew I’d been consulting about my rights to challenge Iggy’s will. He wrote both wills—he’ll be in deep doo-doo if I win. He said Christine added a codicil to her will, leaving me a few pieces of art. Trying to buy me off.”
    A buy-off? That made no sense. The heirs would inherit on Christine’s death, and Sally had to be twenty yearsolder. In normal circumstances, Christine would have outlived her.
    â€œI understand that Iggy’s art collection was quite valuable,” Kim said. “Christine may have been more generous to you than you realize.”
    Sally waved a hand in dismissal, focusing instead on Nick. “Where were you Saturday, Mr. Big Shot?”
    â€œThat is none of your business.” I couldn’t help myself.
    â€œI don’t mind telling you,” Nick said, voice steady, blue eyes unwavering. “Where I am most days, out tracking wolves.”
    â€œI’ll come over for a statement when I’m finished here.” Kim all but escorted Sally, still steaming, to the door.
    Fresca barely waited till she was gone to share a piece of her mind. “You know that is completely ridiculous. Sally and her daughter may have been Iggy’s only living relatives, but it was Christine who shopped for her, took her to the doctor, and in the end, sat by her side for hours. They were closer than blood.”
    Nothing like a mother in full protective mode.
    But Sally had dared to talk about the elephant in the room. What I’d been about to say when Kim arrived. No matter what else happened, everyone would wonder about Nick. Such is the power of a sizable inheritance. Especially one out of the blue.
    And small-town tongues love to wag.
    The butcher’s wife arrived toting a cooler full of sausage and fresh beef, giving me a reason to keep busy while Kim interviewed Nick in my office. I heard his steps descend, cross the hall, and head down to his basement refuge. I steeled myself for the summons.
    Kim sat in my chair and I tried not to fidget on the spare seat, a creaky piano stool. Her open notebook and digital recorder lay on my desk.
    â€œWhy were you meeting at the church?”
    â€œLast-minute prep. Making sure we had all the detailsin hand.” Step by step, Kim led me from the moment I parked in front of the church to the gruesome discovery.
    â€œWhy call Nick?”
    â€œAll the doors were locked, and I needed to find her spare key.”
    â€œAnd where did he say he was?”
    â€œUp in the Jewel Basin, checking his packs.” What he’d said then, and what he’d repeated to Sally this morning. That’s when I noticed an iPhone on the desk, in a slim silver case. Mine was in my blue leather tote bag. Kim kept hers in a sturdy black leather case, department issue.
    That was Nick’s phone.
    â€œReception’s kind of iffy up there,” she said, and my throat constricted. “You pick up on