Murder on the Bucket List
favorite reading chair, an apricot-colored recliner. It was getting threadbare but was still the most comfortable chair in the house. Charlotte thought the apricot added a splash of color against the dark blue flowered wallpaper. Francine would have ditched the wallpaper two decades ago.
    She distributed the brandy glasses and took a seat in the rocker. In spite of all that had happened that day, she relaxed. Just being in a familiar place with a friend felt good. “Are you really going to go through with it?”
    â€œWith what?”
    â€œThe Good Morning America interview tomorrow. You know how nervous you get when someone shoves a microphone in front of you.”
    â€œPshaw.” Charlotte took a swallow of the brandy. “Joy’s going to do all the talking, which is good because she can really talk. Besides, I’m better than I used to be about stuff like that.”
    Francine doubted the latter, but she did hope that Joy would do the talking. “Still, don’t overburden your digestive system in the morning. Okay?”
    Charlotte didn’t answer the question but picked up an open notebook and pen sitting on top of an open mystery book. “I’ve been looking at this Friederich Guttmann murder from different angles, trying to figure out who could have wanted him dead. Larry is hardly the best candidate.”
    Francine touched the glass to her lips and pretended to sip. “I agree about Larry. We’ve known them since they moved in a couple decades ago. Seems like we’d have noticed something odd about him if he were the killer type.”
    â€œI’ve been looking to draw a parallel with one of the cozy mysteries I read sometimes. They almost always have a killer you’d never suspect. Although, I can usually spot them from the beginning now.”
    â€œThe papers seem to favor Larry. Either him or Jake Maehler.”
    â€œJake Maehler is more likely in my opinion. Here’s a guy who became a NASCAR driver, gets branded a loser because he can’t finish in the top ten anywhere, and returns to Brownsburg. His back is against the wall. He’s desperate. And he had a dustup with Friederich two weeks ago.”
    Francine had done a little research that afternoon, so she knew about it. The sports section of the Hendricks County Flyer had covered it extensively at the time. Jake had wrecked at the Night Before the 500 race in May and blamed Friederich’s work. “But they patched things up. They announced they were going to work together at SpeedFest.”
    â€œYou realize that announcement was just Thursday? Friederich disappeared on Saturday. It might have been a ruse.”
    Francine took her first sip, a tiny one. “Or someone didn’t like their decision to keep working together.”
    â€œI do like the way you think. That’s another good angle. You’ve hardly touched your brandy. Don’t you like it?”
    The doorbell rang. Francine looked at the glass. The others were probably here, and she didn’t like them seeing her drink outside of dinner. She tilted her head and drank it down. It burned, making her cough. “I’ll get the door,” she choked out. “I assume we’re going to meet in here.”
    â€œThanks, Francine. It saves me from having to get up and come back.”
    She took her aperitif glass and detoured to the kitchen to set it in the sink before she answered the door. Mary Ruth, Joy, and Alice were on the doorstep together.
    â€œWhy is the door locked?” Mary Ruth said, breathing heavily. “I rushed up the sidewalk thinking I was late and tried to get in, but the door wouldn’t open.”
    â€œYou had a catering event today, didn’t you?” Francine answered. “The rest of us have been hounded by reporters all afternoon. Jonathan and I hid upstairs in his office, but they still didn’t leave until Jud showed up and told them to disperse.”
    â€œIt

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