news.”
“Why can’t you just—”
“Goodnight, Miranda. I suggest you get some sleep, too. You look like hell.”
I barked a laugh, then slapped my hand over my mouth. Whoops.
I didn’t wait for the door to open before I ran up the stairs.
Chapter Fifteen
I got through milking on autopilot. Nick had slept right through the alarm, and I’d let him go. He needed the rest. I figured I could take a nap later if I needed to.
I was taking that nap at the kitchen table when someone knocked on the door. I jerked my head up, causing a kink in my neck. Had I really heard something? Yup. There it was again.
I opened the door, rubbing my neck, ready to yell at whatever salesman was showing up that early. By God, if it was one of Miranda’s florists or caterers or dressmakers I was going to—
“Willard?” My own local detective stood on the doorstep.
“Stella. You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He blinked slowly, his hands in his pockets.
“You’re not going away, are you?”
He didn’t move.
“Fine. Come on in.”
He ducked under the door and followed me to the kitchen, where my cereal had congealed into milky mush. I dumped it into the sink. “I don’t make coffee. You dying?”
“I had some already. Thanks.”
I poured myself a new bowl of cereal and held up the box of Corn Chex. Willard shook his head and took a seat at the table. When I’d joined him, he said, “Late night.”
“You know about it?”
“Some. Want to tell me?”
Surprisingly, I did. I went through the entire ordeal, from hearing the screams to stalking out of the building and telling off the reporters, although I kept that part short and vague. I ended with, “So what’s with that detective? Watts? She have a stick up her ass?”
Willard chuckled. “Guess you could say that. She’s young, about your age, probably, maybe younger. How old are you again?”
He’d been at my birthday party, so I figured he was just being annoying. “However old she is, she was a jerk. It’s no wonder she didn’t have a clue what I’d been telling the other cops all evening—none of them probably want to talk to her. What’s her deal? She get dropped on her head at birth?”
He leaned back, the chair creaking under his bulk. “Worse. Dad made detective even younger than she did. Now he’s sheriff.”
“Sheriff? How come I didn’t know that?”
“I don’t know. You don’t watch the news?”
“No, I mean our Sheriff is Schrock.”
“Ah, right. His name is Schrock. Hers is Watts.”
“She’s married.”
“Actually, no. Her folks were never married, and her mom gave her her own surname when she was born.”
“So she never really knew her dad.”
“No, she did. She just never liked him.”
“And now is working for him.”
“It’s a strange world.”
I drank the last of the milk out of my bowl. “Anyway, why are we talking about her?”
“You brought her up. Said she was a jerk.”
“Right.” I sat back. “So what do you know about last night?”
“That I can tell you?”
“No, that you can dangle in front of my nose and be a butt with.”
He laughed. “Probably not a lot more than you already know.”
“I don’t know anything, except Rikki Raines is dead. I don’t even know what killed her.” He didn’t respond to my hint, so I had to prod him. “Do you know?”
“Not yet. There was nothing obvious.”
Which meant no broken neck, or stab wound, or anything else done in a sudden, violent strike. “When they know, will you be able to find out?”
“Most likely.”
I rubbed my forehead, in case that might help ease my ferocious headache.
Willard leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Stella. I was wondering something.”
I waggled my free hand in a “go ahead” gesture without stopping the rubbing.
“What were you doing on YouTube this morning?”
That stopped the rubbing. “What?”
“There you were, right on my computer screen, threatening innocent reporters and cameramen.”
“Innocent?”
“Yeah, you’re
“Why can’t you just—”
“Goodnight, Miranda. I suggest you get some sleep, too. You look like hell.”
I barked a laugh, then slapped my hand over my mouth. Whoops.
I didn’t wait for the door to open before I ran up the stairs.
Chapter Fifteen
I got through milking on autopilot. Nick had slept right through the alarm, and I’d let him go. He needed the rest. I figured I could take a nap later if I needed to.
I was taking that nap at the kitchen table when someone knocked on the door. I jerked my head up, causing a kink in my neck. Had I really heard something? Yup. There it was again.
I opened the door, rubbing my neck, ready to yell at whatever salesman was showing up that early. By God, if it was one of Miranda’s florists or caterers or dressmakers I was going to—
“Willard?” My own local detective stood on the doorstep.
“Stella. You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He blinked slowly, his hands in his pockets.
“You’re not going away, are you?”
He didn’t move.
“Fine. Come on in.”
He ducked under the door and followed me to the kitchen, where my cereal had congealed into milky mush. I dumped it into the sink. “I don’t make coffee. You dying?”
“I had some already. Thanks.”
I poured myself a new bowl of cereal and held up the box of Corn Chex. Willard shook his head and took a seat at the table. When I’d joined him, he said, “Late night.”
“You know about it?”
“Some. Want to tell me?”
Surprisingly, I did. I went through the entire ordeal, from hearing the screams to stalking out of the building and telling off the reporters, although I kept that part short and vague. I ended with, “So what’s with that detective? Watts? She have a stick up her ass?”
Willard chuckled. “Guess you could say that. She’s young, about your age, probably, maybe younger. How old are you again?”
He’d been at my birthday party, so I figured he was just being annoying. “However old she is, she was a jerk. It’s no wonder she didn’t have a clue what I’d been telling the other cops all evening—none of them probably want to talk to her. What’s her deal? She get dropped on her head at birth?”
He leaned back, the chair creaking under his bulk. “Worse. Dad made detective even younger than she did. Now he’s sheriff.”
“Sheriff? How come I didn’t know that?”
“I don’t know. You don’t watch the news?”
“No, I mean our Sheriff is Schrock.”
“Ah, right. His name is Schrock. Hers is Watts.”
“She’s married.”
“Actually, no. Her folks were never married, and her mom gave her her own surname when she was born.”
“So she never really knew her dad.”
“No, she did. She just never liked him.”
“And now is working for him.”
“It’s a strange world.”
I drank the last of the milk out of my bowl. “Anyway, why are we talking about her?”
“You brought her up. Said she was a jerk.”
“Right.” I sat back. “So what do you know about last night?”
“That I can tell you?”
“No, that you can dangle in front of my nose and be a butt with.”
He laughed. “Probably not a lot more than you already know.”
“I don’t know anything, except Rikki Raines is dead. I don’t even know what killed her.” He didn’t respond to my hint, so I had to prod him. “Do you know?”
“Not yet. There was nothing obvious.”
Which meant no broken neck, or stab wound, or anything else done in a sudden, violent strike. “When they know, will you be able to find out?”
“Most likely.”
I rubbed my forehead, in case that might help ease my ferocious headache.
Willard leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Stella. I was wondering something.”
I waggled my free hand in a “go ahead” gesture without stopping the rubbing.
“What were you doing on YouTube this morning?”
That stopped the rubbing. “What?”
“There you were, right on my computer screen, threatening innocent reporters and cameramen.”
“Innocent?”
“Yeah, you’re
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