The Candy Cane Cupcake Killer by Livia J. Washburn

talking about cold-blooded murder, though, and it was hard to put any sort of pretty face on that.
    â€œIf he did, the other bullets had to go somewhere,” D’Angelo mused. “I wish I could get a look at that carriage. The cops won’t let me anywhere near it, though, unless they charge Nate. Even then they’ll stonewall. Anything I get out of them, I’ll have to force it.”
    â€œWhat difference does it make whether there was one shot or several?” Nate asked.
    â€œIt helps us know just how good a shot the guy really is.One shot, in a crowd like that, he’s got to be a real sharpshooter.”
    A frown creased Phyllis’s forehead as something occurred to her. She leaned forward and said, “Unless he’s really not a good shot at all.”
    â€œHow can you say that?” Sam asked. “He hit what he was aimin’ at, and no matter how you look at it, it was a hard shot.”
    â€œUnless,” Phyllis said, “he wasn’t aiming at Mr. McCrory at all.”

Chapter 10

    S ilence reigned around the table for a long moment. Then Allyson said, “You’re saying you think . . . whoever it was . . .
didn’t
mean to kill my father?”
    â€œI’m not saying I think that, no,” Phyllis replied. “We don’t have anything to make us believe that Mr. McCrory wasn’t the target. But it’s
possible
that whoever fired that shot meant it for someone else. There were a lot of people around, after all, as we’ve mentioned several times.”
    D’Angelo leaned back in his chair and looked intently at her.
    â€œThat’s right,” he said. “With a crowd of people like that, until we know who pulled the trigger, we can’t be sure who they were aiming at. There was even a politician right behind McCrory. Maybe
he
was the intended victim.”
    â€œWait a minute,” Allyson said. “You mean my father may have died by
accident
?”
    Her voice had a ragged edge of hysteria in it.
    â€œIt’s just a possibility,” Phyllis said, keeping her own voice level and calm. “Something else that could be a good idea to investigate.”
    â€œI agree,” D’Angelo said. “Let’s face it—the cops aren’t going to think that far outside the box. They’re only going to concentrate on the obvious, and that means finding out who had a motive for wanting Barney McCrory dead, which brings them right back to Nate.”
    Allyson shuddered.
    Nate squeezed her shoulder again and said, “If the man was really after somebody else, why did he stop shooting?”
    â€œBecause he realized he missed,” Sam said. “That could’ve shaken him up some. And once those horses took off like they did, there was no way he could take another shot, no matter how good a marksman he was.”
    Phyllis nodded and said, “As a theory, it holds together. But that’s all it is: a theory.”
    â€œWe’ll start with the guy in the sleigh,” D’Angelo said. “The . . . county judge?”
    â€œCounty commissioner,” Phyllis said. “Clay Loomis.”
    â€œNot exactly a real big shot, is he?”
    â€œYou’d be surprised how hot and heavy some of those election campaigns get, even on the county level,” Sam said. “To some people, bein’ a big fish in a small pond is still worth fightin’ over.”
    â€œNot to mention sometimes there’s a considerable amount of money in play when it comes to county contracts,” Phyllis added. “I’m not saying it’s a motive for murder . . .”
    â€œBut sometimes it doesn’t take much,” D’Angelo finished for her. “How about those girls? Santa’s slutty little elves?”
    â€œThey were high school girls,” Phyllis said, a little sharper now.
    D’Angelo shrugged and spread his hands.
    â€œPassions