Fixin' To Die (A Kenni Lowry Mystery Book 1) by Tonya Kappes Page A

she walked away, leaving me alone.
    “Thanks.” I took her up on her offer and poured myself a hot cup of coffee.
    Being a doctor must be good. The can of Starbucks next to the coffee maker was a rare sight around Cottonwood. I was used to Ben’s strong, stiff black cup of joe.
    “I can’t believe this.” The familiar voice of Polly Parker came through the heating vent next to the credenza.
    I put my steaming cup down and put my ear up to the metal slots of the vent.
    “Is this forever?” Polly sobbed.
    Camille was talking so low, I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I could make out Polly agreeing with her.
    “I know it’s not a death sentence.” Polly sniffed, sucking in some mucus. “But this wasn’t planned for my life. I mean, I want to be a mom. A wife.” She sobbed again.
    My eyes widened. What did she mean not a death sentence? She said she wanted to be a mom. What did that mean? Had I just become privy to some really good Cottonwood gossip I could never tell? No wonder Polly was so emotional at the jewelry store. She was hiding a big secret and it was up to me to find out what it was and if it had to do with Doc’s death.
    There were a few more hushed whispers coming from the vent and then a door shut. I jumped away from the wall and grabbed the cup of coffee.
    “I hate what happened to Doctor Walton,” Camille said as she walked back in the room. “And if you think I had anything to do with it because of the other day, I don’t. I have proof of where I have been.”
    I kept a close eye on her body language. She fumbled with the file in her hand. The file folder and papers tumbled to the ground.
    At the same time, we both bent down to pick them up, but I grabbed the most important information. The file was definitely Polly Parker’s.
    “Too much coffee.” She brushed off her uneasiness. “Why are you here?” She shoved the papers back in the folder and stuck it on her desk.
    I turned around and looked at her. She was prettier than a glob of butter on a mound of grits. That was a sight everyone in Cottonwood loved.
    “I’m here about your confrontation with Doc Walton the day before yesterday at Ben’s.”
    I was glad she brought up the subject first, though it made me awfully suspicious. It might even turn out to be small-town gossip, but I had to check out every clue.
    “What?” A puzzled look crossed her face. “I just told you I have an alibi.”
    “Then you shouldn’t mind my questions. It’s all part of the job. Besides,” I said as if it was no big deal, “I never said you had anything to do with his murder.” Her fidgeting fingers caught my attention. “Why don’t you tell me what the little heated discussion the two of you had was about?”
    “Heated?” There was a certain undertone in her voice. She stuck her hands in the white lab coat. The blue stitching on the right side above her breast boasted her title, Dr. C. Shively. “Nothing. Forget I even said anything. Will I see you tomorrow night at Euchre?”
    “Unfortunately, I can’t forget that.” I tapped my noggin. “Sorta why I got all this stress. I can’t seem to forget anything dealing with Doc Walton.” My brows lifted. “What happened?”
    “Doctor-patient confidentiality keeps me from being able to say anything.” She crossed her arms in front of her with a file tight to her torso, her body stiff. “We were discussing a patient we have in common. Had,” she corrected herself.
    “You can’t give me any more? Not even a bitty bit?” I held my fingers up and parted them an inch apart, giving her another chance.
    “Not even a bitty bit, Kenni.” Her voice was flat.
    “I can get a subpoena if that would be better.” I loved throwing around the subpoena thing. For some reason that word made people vomit all sorts of information.
    Poppa appeared behind her and bobbed his head back and forth trying to get a look at the file Camille was holding. My jaw dropped. I gasped for air.
    “Are you