Plain Dead by Emma Miller Page A

“No fair! My turn to be the mama!”
    â€œExcuse me,” Blade said to Rachel. He went after his daughters, picked them up, and returned with the carriage in tow. “Behind the table, both of you,” he said. “Or there will be no ice cream after lunch for any of you. You, too, Remi.”
    â€œBut, Papa,” Remi cried, “I didn’t do anything.”
    â€œSorry, son. Them’s the breaks,” Blade said.
    â€œListen,” Rachel glanced around and said quietly, “Evan is the lead detective in the investigation into Bill Billingsly’s death. I was talking to him this morning, and he may want to ask you some questions about that problem you two had.”
    â€œHe does, does he?”
    Rachel felt the temperature drop significantly as Blade’s friendly banter became serious.
    Blade set his square jaw. “He wants to question me after Billingsly shortchanged me more than a thousand dollars?”
    She shrugged, beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake to say anything. She had a feeling that this kind of thing was exactly what Evan had been talking about when he had asked her to stay out of the investigation. “I think he’s talking to anyone who had a problem with Billingsly recently.” She gave a little chuckle, trying to lighten the conversation. “Shoot, I had a public argument with Billingsly Saturday. I’m probably at the top of the list for questioning.”
    â€œRight.” Blade’s mouth tightened. “But it’s not really police business. I didn’t file a complaint.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s an invasion of privacy, if you ask me.”
    â€œBut it isn’t personal,” Rachel reasoned.
    â€œWhat’s he want to know?”
    Now Rachel definitely wished she hadn’t said anything. It had never occurred to her that Blade would react this way. “Just, oh, I don’t know. Like, where you were on Saturday night.”
    â€œSo, now I’m a suspect?”
    Rachel felt her cheeks grow hot. “No, of course not. He just needs to account for people’s whereabouts. It’s how you investigate a murder.”
    Blade’s face was hard. Clearly she’d struck a nerve. “I’m not crazy about cops,” he said. “Nothing personal.”
    â€œBut . . . you were at home on Saturday night. Right? Home with Coyote and the kids, like always? Especially with all the snow.”
    â€œWho wants to know where you were Saturday night?”
    Rachel turned to find Coyote walking up behind her.
    â€œI was just telling—” Rachel began.
    â€œEvan Parks wants to know.” Blade kept his voice low so the kids wouldn’t hear.
    Coyote looked at Rachel. Coyote was a pretty woman, tall and thin with long blond hair. She looked every bit a Californian, and she was gorgeous, even when she frowned. “He was at his book club. Every second Saturday of the month. He never misses book club. Why does your Evan want to know where Blade was Saturday night?”
    â€œApparently he’s talking to everyone who had a problem with Bill.”
    â€œWell, that list’s going to be long.” Coyote walked around the table to put down her coat and the canvas sack she was carrying.
    â€œThat’s what I said.” Blade tucked one hand under his arm and gestured with the other. “Could be anyone in Stone Mill. And there were plenty of people out Saturday night. Parks is going to have a hard time questioning everyone in town who had a problem with him.” He was clearly angry now.
    â€œBlade.” Coyote rested her hand on her husband’s arm, her tone suggesting he needed to calm down.
    This was a side of Blade Rachel had never seen before. But she got the impression Coyote had.
    Blade didn’t calm down. “What’s Parks going to do, go door-to-door?” he asked, loud enough for people at the booth next to them to look