Macaroni and Freeze by Christine Wenger Page A

according to Mr. Wyatt Earp over there, I did have a knack for making people talk, and I wanted to talk to Jill. Or rather, I wanted her to talk to me.
    â€œExcuse me, ladies. I have a couple of things I need to take care of,” he said, finally leaving the table.
    Ty took his seat back at the counter. I went over andmoved my meatball sub from the counter to Jill’s booth, and along the way I whispered to Ty that I’d wanted Jill to be able to talk freely without him being there.
    And he mumbled back, “Trixie Matkowski, you leave the investigating to me.”
    I shrugged and gave him my best innocent smile. “Of course.”
    So now it was Jill and me alone until Nancy came over to the table and took Jill’s order: a salad with Thousand Island dressing, a Western omelet with rye toast, and a glass of ice tea.
    I worked on my now-cold meatball sandwich. I was tempted to pop it in the microwave to bring it back to some kind of life, but then Nancy set a cup of hot spaghetti sauce in front of me.
    Perfect.
    â€œJill, with the exception of nothing to eat, are you doing okay in the motor home?”
    â€œI’m okay. I’m just getting tired of being alone in there and hiding from the media.”
    â€œWould you feel more comfortable in my house?”
    Say no. Please say no. I love being alone.
    But then I remembered. Antoinette Chloe was there with me.
    â€œNo. I’m fine, really. It’s just that wherever I look, I see things that remind me of Cilla.”
    After reaching for her hand across the table, I patted it. “Of course you would.”
    â€œI don’t understand why Peter hasn’t been arrested.” She glanced over at Ty. “I hear that his cell phone was found at the scene.”
    â€œReally? That’s odd. I didn’t see a cell phone when I found Priscilla’s body.”
    â€œIt had fallen in the snowbank somewhere. The cops found it after they cordoned off the area where you found her.”
    â€œOh.” I took a deep breath, remembering how I’d found poor Priscilla. “Did they find anything else?”
    â€œThe cell phone is all I know about. And I know that Peter was talking to Deputy Brisco for a long time, because I was in the waiting room of the sheriff’s department, waiting to give my statement.”
    â€œYou and Peter don’t quite get along, do you?” I asked, remembering how Jill always seemed exasperated whenever he was around.
    Nancy delivered her salad, so we stopped talking for a moment.
    â€œI don’t particularly like how he came back into Cilla’s life all of a sudden after not calling her or seeing her for years. Then suddenly there he was.”
    â€œI wonder why,” I said.
    She ate a forkful of salad. “My guess is that he probably ran out of money. Cilla was his cash cow. She always was.”
    â€œReally?”
    She nodded. “Yeah. Peter is a parasite.”
    â€œI wonder what’s going to happen to Priscilla’sempire now that she’s passed. Does Peter get it all because he’s related?”
    She set her fork down and stared at me. More tears traveled down her cheeks and landed on her salad. She pushed it away as Nancy delivered her Western omelet and rye toast.
    â€œI shouldn’t have asked that, Jill. That was very rude of me. I was just thinking out loud. I’m sorry.”
    I’m sure I looked apologetic. However, in my vast experience watching cop shows on TV and being married to a cop with loose lips—in more ways than one—I knew money was almost always a factor.
    And this information had moved Peter to the head of the line in the list of suspects that I was mentally preparing. As soon as I could, I was going to find out if he had any more beefs with Priscilla.
    There was no way I was going to stay out of this investigation. I had to clear my name.
    â€œI’m really sorry that I asked you about Priscilla’s