Flipped For Murder by Maddie Day Page A

“Do I have your word?”
    â€œOf course, whatever. But there’s another thing.” Now I was on a roll. “Yesterday Corrine Beedle told me she heard Stella was ‘blackmailing half the men in town.’ Her words. There’s gotta be people around here with an actual reason to kill Stella. I sure didn’t have one.”
    Buck cleared his throat. “You might not know this, Robbie, since you’re still a newcomer to the state and all like that.”
    â€œI’ve lived here for three years.”
    Buck ignored me and went on. “We have a law against spiteful gossip.”
    Jim stared at him, swallowing as if he was trying not to laugh. He looked at me. “It’s true.”
    â€œYou’d better tell Madam Mayor, then.” My breath was coming fast and furious now, with “furious” being the key word. “I’m just passing on what she said. She’s the gossiper, not me.”

Chapter 13
    By the time Jim dropped me at home, the earlier gentle rain had turned into a real storm. I longed to head out on my bike, and let some sweat and some hills make me forget about the mess my life had become. But no way I was riding in this wind and rain, plus it was getting dark. I sat at the laptop in my apartment and prowled the Internet until I found a bike trainer that transformed a road bike into a stationary model. I’d seen the simple stands that the back wheel clicked into, with selectable resistance levels, and I ordered one on the spot. It’d be useful all winter, and was way cheaper than a gym membership. Nashville had a YMCA, but I preferred exercising alone.
    I heard a scratching at the back door and froze. Someone trying to get in? Or maybe a branch in the wind? I was sure I’d locked it, but it only had a simple lock in the doorknob. If somebody really wanted to get in, I had no doubt they could. I reached out and switched off the lamp on the desk so I couldn’t be seen. The motion-activated light outside was lit up, although that could be from the branches waving in the wind. Or maybe from a murderer skulking around my windows. I shivered and grabbed for my bag, scrabbling in its depths for my phone.
    I heard the sound again. The loud meow that followed made me laugh at myself. I turned the light back on before I got up and let Birdy in, who gave the expression “as wet as a drowned rat” new meaning. His fluffy black fur was soaked and made him look about half the size he usually did. I found an old towel and rubbed him as dry as I could get him. I made sure I locked the door again, just in case the next sound wasn’t so innocent. Maybe my next purchase should be a dead bolt. And a cat door.
    I was still restless. I hated having to go to the police station. I couldn’t stand that I was living under even a hint of suspicion. Buck hadn’t given my ideas much credence, either. I was still upset with Jim at having withheld his knowledge of my pen’s discovery. And a killer was out there somewhere, a person who’d found it within himself or herself to take another person’s life.
    I paced my apartment, then went into the store. Wielding a feather duster, I wandered among the shelves of cookware. While everything was vintage, that didn’t mean it should be covered with dust. Reaching up, I dusted the top shelf, where I’d arrayed colorful cookie tins and trays. I straightened a collection of pastry cutters and another of choppers. I moved a couple of tart pans from the measuring-spoon section back to the shelves of baking pans. When I came to the meat grinder, I paused. I wanted to insert the Find the Murderer disk, pour all the information I’d learned into the hopper, and grind out the answer. Too bad life didn’t work that way. And so far, my puzzle master hat wasn’t really working, either.
    When my stomach notified me in no uncertain terms it was time for dinner, I put away the duster and