Cast Iron Motive (The Cast Iron Cooking Mysteries Book 4) by Jessica Beck Page A

idea, but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to embrace it.
    “Is that what he told you? Well, he had more on his mind than just a view. The more I think about it, the more I realize that you are right. He did it to get closer to me.”
    “Also, we met Serena Jefferson while we were in city hall,” Pat said. “She seems nice, and she smiled brightly when she found out that we were related. She seemed to genuinely like you.”
    Della frowned for a moment before she replied. “Of course she’d present that front to you, but I know the truth.”
    It was pretty clear that we weren’t going to be able to shake our aunt’s beliefs.
    Pat must have thought so, too, because his next question took us in a completely different direction. “Cheryl was most likely killed because of a flashlight that matches the description of the one you said you gave her the night she was murdered.”
    “What? Are you sure? I thought they found her in the water. What did my flashlight have to do with that?” The new information seemed to rock her back onto her heels.
    “It’s true that she drowned, but the flashlight blow to the back of the head is what sent her into the water, unconscious,” Pat said.
    “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, the fright in her voice obvious as her gaze darted from my brother to me. “Do you honestly think that I killed my best friend? Why would I do that?”
    “We don’t know,” Pat said, “but hard questions have to be asked.”
    “By you? But we’re family!” She was near a breakdown. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice.
    “We are. That’s why we’re asking you point blank,” I said calmly. “I’m going to ask you this one time, and then we’ll drop it forever. Aunt Della, did you have anything to do with what happened to Cheryl Simmons?”
    “I did not. I swear it on your mother’s grave.”
    I could have done without that particular pledge, but I believed her. She might have been deluding herself about the mayor’s intentions and his secretary’s jealousy, but she hadn’t killed her friend. I glanced at Pat, who nodded in agreement when we made eye contact. Della might be a bit of a drama queen, but neither one of us thought that she was a cold-blooded killer.
    “Fine. We believe you,” I said. “Let’s just assume for the moment that Davis and Serena are in the clear. Where does that leave us?”
    “With just one person, as far as I’m concerned,” Della said.
    “The town’s chief of police,” Pat said flatly, clearly unsure of her assessment.
    “Most policemen are good people,” Della said, “but it’s no guarantee that all of them are. Cam could have done it if he thought it was me on that path and not Cheryl.”
    “I don’t know,” Pat said. “It seems a little farfetched to me.”
    “So is murder being committed in our sleepy little town, but it happened nonetheless,” Della said. “If I were you, I’d focus on Cam, but don’t forget about Davis and Serena completely. I know they can both put up convincing fronts, but don’t let them fool you. Davis is a politician at heart, and lying comes easily to him. As for Serena, she’s fooled better people than you two in the past, but she’s not duping me.” Della took a deep breath, and then she continued, “I understand you feeling the need to challenge me, but I didn’t kill my friend, and I’m not losing my mind. Someone is trying to kill me, and if you two don’t do something about it, the next time they are going to succeed. If you waste your time trying to prove that I’m either culpable or downright delusional, than you might as well not be here, because I’m already a dead woman.”
    “We’re not going to let that happen,” I said, though I had no idea how I was going to keep that particular promise. “Right, Pat?”
    “Not if we can help it,” he amended.
    Our assurances seemed to give her some comfort. “That’s all that I can ask. Maybe we should call your