cabinet. I opened the last one marked
S–Z
. There it was: a blue hanging file labeled
Sunshine Food Supply
.
All the invoices were there, with the exception of those from the last couple of months. I remembered that I had seen two envelopes from Sunshine Food Supply in the grocery bag that Nancy had given me.
I reached over and picked up the bag from the floor. Leafing through everything, I found just what I was looking for.
Of course, no mushrooms were listed. Not that I expected big, red letters that said “poison mushrooms, one can” along with the cost in the right-hand column; I just expected something—anything—to jump out at me.
I compared the two invoices. They were both basically a standing order for the same goods: tomato sauce, produce, assorted boxes of cereal, eggs, bread, several cuts of meat, cold cuts—on and on it went.
The delivery person was listed as “M.C.”
Funny, those were the same initials as the victim, Marvin Cogswell the Third.
Was this just a coincidence? Would Marvin’s father or son want him dead? And why?
Oh, wait! Roberta Cummings was his emergency contact, but did he have a next of kin? Was the obituary wrong? Was Ty wrong in not having discovered any relatives?
The doorbell rang, and I figured that it was Ty Brisco. He’d wanted to talk more, and I couldn’t wait to show him what I’d found.
I practically skipped to the door, invoices in hand. It was Ty with a cardboard box containing two take-out cups of coffee and a waxed paper bag that looked like it contained doughnuts.
Bless his heart. I’d save my cake for another time.
I opened the door, and he stepped into the living room. He was just about to step out of his boots, when I noticed that at his side was Blondie. She was washed and fluffed, and two little pink bows were over her ears.
“No one seems to be looking for her. No microchip,” Ty said, answering my unasked question. He petted the dog on her blond head. “So I’m going to foster her. When they put her up for adoption, I get first dibs.” He shot me a charming grin. “I hope it’s okay with my landlord if I have a dog in my apartment.”
“As long as Blondie behaves herself, no one should mind.”
Blondie seemed to know that she was accepted. She licked my hand, and I just melted. Ibent over to pet her, and she rolled over onto her back.
“She wants you to rub her tummy,” Ty explained.
“Oh, okay.” I did so, and also petted her head and back for good measure. I just loved the feel of her soft fur. “I’ve never had a pet in my life.”
Ty smiled. “We can share Blondie.”
I liked that idea. “Blondie is more than welcome to come in. And Ty, forget about your boots,” I said. Another couple layers of winter crud couldn’t do much more harm.
As I spread out the two pieces of paper on the table in front of him, he set down the cardboard box. Blondie curled up in front of the furnace grate.
Smart dog.
“Look at these delivery slips,” I said, pointing to the initials of the delivery person. “‘M.C.’ was the delivery person on the last two occasions. Actually, I looked back even further. M.C. was the delivery person for all the deliveries in the last six months. Once a week, he came to the Silver Bullet.”
“M.C.?” He raised a perfect black eyebrow.
“Yes. The same initials as our victim, Marvin P. Cogswell the Third. Could there be a Marvin the Fourth?”
Ty popped the lid on a take-out cup and handed me the other. “We couldn’t find any living relatives when we went to look for the next of kin.And this guy would be living in town, for heaven’s sake, if he delivers for Sunshine. That means he would have been at the funeral, or at least the cemetery.”
“Maybe not. Not if they were estranged.”
“True. This is a good lead. Good work, Trixie.”
I let myself bask in the glow of his compliment while I loaded cream and sugar into my coffee. “I’ll ask Max or Clyde. They’d know if there were more
S–Z
. There it was: a blue hanging file labeled
Sunshine Food Supply
.
All the invoices were there, with the exception of those from the last couple of months. I remembered that I had seen two envelopes from Sunshine Food Supply in the grocery bag that Nancy had given me.
I reached over and picked up the bag from the floor. Leafing through everything, I found just what I was looking for.
Of course, no mushrooms were listed. Not that I expected big, red letters that said “poison mushrooms, one can” along with the cost in the right-hand column; I just expected something—anything—to jump out at me.
I compared the two invoices. They were both basically a standing order for the same goods: tomato sauce, produce, assorted boxes of cereal, eggs, bread, several cuts of meat, cold cuts—on and on it went.
The delivery person was listed as “M.C.”
Funny, those were the same initials as the victim, Marvin Cogswell the Third.
Was this just a coincidence? Would Marvin’s father or son want him dead? And why?
Oh, wait! Roberta Cummings was his emergency contact, but did he have a next of kin? Was the obituary wrong? Was Ty wrong in not having discovered any relatives?
The doorbell rang, and I figured that it was Ty Brisco. He’d wanted to talk more, and I couldn’t wait to show him what I’d found.
I practically skipped to the door, invoices in hand. It was Ty with a cardboard box containing two take-out cups of coffee and a waxed paper bag that looked like it contained doughnuts.
Bless his heart. I’d save my cake for another time.
I opened the door, and he stepped into the living room. He was just about to step out of his boots, when I noticed that at his side was Blondie. She was washed and fluffed, and two little pink bows were over her ears.
“No one seems to be looking for her. No microchip,” Ty said, answering my unasked question. He petted the dog on her blond head. “So I’m going to foster her. When they put her up for adoption, I get first dibs.” He shot me a charming grin. “I hope it’s okay with my landlord if I have a dog in my apartment.”
“As long as Blondie behaves herself, no one should mind.”
Blondie seemed to know that she was accepted. She licked my hand, and I just melted. Ibent over to pet her, and she rolled over onto her back.
“She wants you to rub her tummy,” Ty explained.
“Oh, okay.” I did so, and also petted her head and back for good measure. I just loved the feel of her soft fur. “I’ve never had a pet in my life.”
Ty smiled. “We can share Blondie.”
I liked that idea. “Blondie is more than welcome to come in. And Ty, forget about your boots,” I said. Another couple layers of winter crud couldn’t do much more harm.
As I spread out the two pieces of paper on the table in front of him, he set down the cardboard box. Blondie curled up in front of the furnace grate.
Smart dog.
“Look at these delivery slips,” I said, pointing to the initials of the delivery person. “‘M.C.’ was the delivery person on the last two occasions. Actually, I looked back even further. M.C. was the delivery person for all the deliveries in the last six months. Once a week, he came to the Silver Bullet.”
“M.C.?” He raised a perfect black eyebrow.
“Yes. The same initials as our victim, Marvin P. Cogswell the Third. Could there be a Marvin the Fourth?”
Ty popped the lid on a take-out cup and handed me the other. “We couldn’t find any living relatives when we went to look for the next of kin.And this guy would be living in town, for heaven’s sake, if he delivers for Sunshine. That means he would have been at the funeral, or at least the cemetery.”
“Maybe not. Not if they were estranged.”
“True. This is a good lead. Good work, Trixie.”
I let myself bask in the glow of his compliment while I loaded cream and sugar into my coffee. “I’ll ask Max or Clyde. They’d know if there were more
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