The Candy Cane Cupcake Killer by Livia J. Washburn Page A

sometimes run pretty high at that age,” he said.
    Phyllis couldn’t argue with that statement. She had taught at the junior-high level, where hormones first started really affecting students, and she had seen how much havoc those runaway emotions could wreak. In her more cynical moments, she had believed there might be some basis in fact to the theory that all seventh – and eighth-graders were clinically insane.
    Still, she thought it made more sense to start with Clay Loomis, and she said as much.
    D’Angelo nodded and said, “I agree. Look into his background and see if there’s anything that would make somebody want to shoot him. If there’s not, we can always move on to the other people who were right around there.”
    There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Phyllis was glad they’d had this meeting. She knew it had been difficult, especially for Allyson, but now she had a better picture of what had happened before the parade.
    She also had a hunch that by now the police would have been out to Barney McCrory’s ranch to talk to those two men who had overheard the argument the day before.
    That and the fact that Nate doesn’t have an alibi are enough to make the police consider him the primary suspect, she thought.
    She was afraid it was only a matter of time before Nate was arrested.
    As they all stood up to leave, D’Angelo said, “Phyllis, Sam, if you guys could wait a minute so we can talk some more . . .”
    â€œOf course,” Phyllis said.
    D’Angelo shook hands with Nate and said, “We’ll be in touch. In the meantime, go on about your business and keep your head down, kid. And if any cops show up to talk to you, don’t say a word. Even if they take you in, don’t say anything except that you want to talk to me. As long as you stick to your guns, they can’t do a blasted thing about it.”
    â€œAll right.” Nate sighed. “It’s hard, though. I was raised to respect and cooperate with the police.”
    â€œYeah, that’s fine . . . except when it’s your head on the line.”
    Both Nate and Allyson looked worried as they left the conference room. Once the door was closed, D’Angelo waved Phyllis and Sam back into their seats.
    â€œWhat do you think?” he asked them. “Any chance the kid did it?”
    â€œNot a chance in the world,” Sam answered without hesitation. “He idolized Barney McCrory, over and above Barney bein’ his father-in-law.”
    â€œDidn’t sound much like it, from the description of that argument.”
    â€œShoot, everybody gets hot under the collar now and then, even with folks they love and respect. It doesn’t mean you’re ready to go and shoot somebody.”
    â€œWhat do you think, Phyllis?”
    She took her time about answering, then said, “I never knew any of these people until yesterday, so maybe I’m a little more objective about the situation than Sam is.”
    â€œWait a minute,” Sam objected. “Are you sayin’ you think Nate is guilty?”
    â€œNot at all. You didn’t let me finish. I’m saying that even looking at it objectively, I don’t think Nate shot Mr. McCrory. Yes, he might have motive, but I don’t think it’s strong enough. And he seems genuinely upset about his father-in-law’s death. He seems like a young man who’s lost a loved one.”
    â€œI hope you’re both right,” D’Angelo said.
    Phyllis’s eyes narrowed. She said, “You sound like you have some doubts.”
    The lawyer grimaced. He reached inside his coat and took out a folded piece of paper.
    â€œI didn’t want to bring this up, especially in front of Allyson,” he said. “I got to thinking about something and looked into it a little while ago. I’ve got a buddy in the ATF who does me a favor now and then. I asked him to check