Fool's Puzzle by Earlene Fowler (reading eggs books .TXT) 📕

about Eric? I hope this isn’t some kind of serial killer who has it in for artists.”

“Is everything all set to go in the quilt booth?” I didn’t want to discuss Eric’s death with anyone else this morning. I was awakened at six A.M. first by Elvia wanting to know if I was all right, then Carl, wanting to know if I had any information the police weren’t releasing, and finally Dove, giving me a second chance at the bodyguard services of one elderly aunt.

“We’re ready to roll,” Meg said, glancing at her watch. “One hour to blastoff. There are people arriving already. One old lady wanted to have her picture taken in the place where the two murders happened. Gross, huh?” She wrinkled her pale, freckled nose.

“No one is allowed upstairs or to point out the place in the woodshop where Marla was killed,” I said. “Pass that around. I’ll bring them before the co-op board and have their studio privileges revoked if I catch anyone showing those places to the public. Let’s try and leave Marla and Eric with a little dignity.”

“I’ll tell everyone,” Meg said evenly, not dispirited by my prickly tone. “There’s coffee in the pottery booth,” she added diplomatically.

“Thanks,” I answered, a bit chagrined by my attitude. I didn’t want to tell her I’d had four cups already and that lack of caffeine wasn’t my problem. I looked up at the cloudy sky, hoping the weather forecast was accurate—low clouds burning off to a sunny day. The sooner I could cover the bags under my eyes with sunglasses, the better.

By ten o‘clock, cars were parked half a mile down the highway and the craft booths in the museum parking lot were snaked with lines of people. It appeared the murders actually improved attendance at the festival rather than harmed it.

The VFW and a couple of Boy Scout troops had fired up their steel barrel barbeques early and were slowly cooking ribs and chicken over oakwood in the Santa Maria style barbeque no event in the county was ever without. My stomach growled when the scents of the spicy beef and chicken hit my nose, making the chocolate doughnut I’d had at seven o‘clock seem like a mirage.

I was standing next to a booth selling anodized earrings in the shapes of endangered animals when I felt a dry, rough hand slip under my braid and squeeze my neck.

“Hey, squirt. Heard you found another body.” I turned around and smiled up into the gray eyes and sun-webbed face of my father.

I slipped my arm around his solid waist. The smell of his clean cotton shirt and English Leather aftershave was familiar and comforting. “Daddy! Am I glad to see you.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “It was our handyman, Eric. I think it’s connected with the other murder, but I don’t know how.” I shivered. “Kind of spooks me a little, but I’m mostly okay. Where’s Dove and Aunt Garnet?”

“Garnet woke up with a cold in her ear this morning, so they aren’t coming. I was sent to cheer you on.”

“Dove didn’t tell me that when she called this morning,” I said. “Well, cheer away. I can certainly use it.”

“Don’t think Garnet was up when Dove called. You know, I don’t feel real comfortable with you working where there’s been two murders.”

“Really, there’s nothing for you to worry about,” I said. “They have nothing to do with me except that I was unfortunate enough to discover them. I’m getting a rather gruesome reputation around San Celina these days.”

“You be careful, you hear?” He reached over and pulled the brim of my cap down. “You still keep Jack’s .45 in your bedroom?”

“Sure do,” I said, pushing my hat back up.

“Don’t forget to ...”

“I know. Aim for the oysters.”

He chuckled at our old joke. “Guess so long as I’m here, I’ll drop by the feed supply and see if my order’s in. Got anything you want to send back to the sisters?”

“No, but tell Dove I’ll call in a couple of days. And tell Aunt Garnet I’m sorry she’s feeling bad and couldn’t make it.”

“Right.” He pulled at his long white sideburns and gave me a slow hound-dog grin.

“Well, I am sorry she’s feeling bad,” I said, returning his grin.

I had started walking back to the museum to see how the exhibit was faring when I ran into Sandra. Her face was pallid, and the shadows staining the delicate flesh under her eyes made me guess that she’d slept as little as me last night.

“I’ve been looking for you for an hour.” Her breath came in hard little puffs. She shifted sixteen-month-old Casey to her other hip. “Wade’s here. You said you’d talk to him.”

“Right,” I said, wishing I hadn’t made that impulsive promise. Getting involved in someone else’s marriage problems was just asking for a boot in the butt. “Where is he?”

“Over by the food booths and he’s in a real bad mood. He didn’t get in until after three last night and he was mean as a badger when I asked him where he’d been.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said. “If he won’t talk to you, I’m sure he won’t to me either.”

“You were always good with him,” she insisted. “Almost as good as Jack was. I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

Taking Jack’s place in the Harper family constellation was discomforting and yet, oddly appealing. At least it made me feel as if I still belonged someplace.

“I’ll catch up with you later and let you know what happened.” I reached over and gave a quick raspberry kiss to Casey’s downy cheek, causing him to giggle. “I can’t believe I’m missing all of Casey’s growing up.”

“You should come out more,” she said.

“I will.” But we both knew I wouldn’t.

Wade stood around the smoking barbeques with a group of men dressed in such a similar manner they could have been a convention of ex-Marlboro Men. Jack would have fit right in. I wondered if