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

sister and see what she thinks,” Della suggested.
    “We’re doing fine on our own,” I said. “Kathleen has her own problems, and it wouldn’t be fair to drag her into this. Pat and I are perfectly capable of solving this.”
    “I sincerely hope so,” Della said. “Are you hungry, by any chance?”
    “We just ate breakfast a few hours ago,” I said.
    “Of course you did. Why don’t you come back at noon? I’ll have a meal ready for you then.”
    “You don’t have to cook for us, Aunt Della,” I said.
    “I understand that, but then again, you both didn’t have to drop everything and come to my aid, either. Let me do this for you.”
    “Fine,” I said.
    Pat nodded his agreement.
    “In the meantime, we have more work to do before then.”
    “I know I can count on you,” she said as we left the house once again.
    I looked at Pat once we were outside again. “What do you think?”
    “She’s either telling us the truth, or she’s deluded herself into believing that it’s all true. I have a feeling that both things might be accurate.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “What if she honestly believes that Davis is in love with her and that Serena is wickedly jealous of the fact, but neither thing is true? I don’t doubt for a second that she believes every bit of it, but whether that makes it so or not, I have no idea, and there’s no one we can ask.”
    “There’s always Chief Cameron,” I said.
    Pat shook his head. “I doubt he’s in the mood to share much with us at the moment. We have another source in town, though.”
    “Gary White,” I said.
    Pat shrugged. “Maybe he knows something, and after all, he offered to help us at breakfast.”
    “Why not?” I asked. “What do we have to lose?”
    “The list is too long to even discuss,” Pat replied. As he looked back at Della’s house, he said, “If we hadn’t had our late-night visitor, I would be less inclined to believe her about anything, but someone was trying to get in last night.”
    “That could mean that they’re afraid of something,” I said.
    “Sure, but what? Why is Della such a threat to someone?”
    “That’s what we need to find out.”

    I could see my brother’s eyes light up the moment we walked into Gary White’s hardware store. To me, it looked as though we’d stepped through some kind of magic portal back in time. There were trays and shelves holding nothing but nuts, bolts, washers, and metal things that I couldn’t even begin to identify. Though the weather outside was still frigid, packets of garden seeds were displayed prominently at the front of the store, along with loose seeds stored in wooden sections that were parceled out with aluminum scoops. There were kerosene heater wicks, snow sleds and shovels, and bibbed overalls that hung from the rafters like empty scarecrow starter kits. The floors were stained from years of abuse, gouges filled in darkly and even gaps in the wood where dust must have drifted down to the basement in dirty snowfalls. I was about to say something when I spotted a section that instantly caught my eye.
    Gary had cast iron cookware for sale, and not the new, freshly minted stuff that still sported its factory seasoning. This was cast iron from another generation, when the metal was poured thin and true, and the quality couldn’t be touched today. I picked up a Griswold #6 fry pan and marveled that underneath a fine layer of dust, there was a truly magnificent piece of art. There was a tag dangling from the opening in the handle that was hard to read, but as I wiped the dirt from it, I saw that it was for sale for $14.99. Beside it was a cast iron Dutch oven, also an ancient Griswold, and priced at $24.99. Without saying a word to my brother, I took both pieces and walked straight to the register.
    “I’d like to buy these, please,” I said.
    “What about talking to Gary first?” Pat asked me.
    “He can wait,” I said as I showed him the prices.
    I was glad that my brother