Read Eggs in a Casket (A Cackleberry Club Mystery) for Free Online

Saturday night, and then Sunday’s Historical Society tea at the Cackleberry Club.”
    “Which we’re looking forward to enormously,” said Suzanne. “So please . . .” She stepped off the curb. “Don’t worry about a thing!”
    “You’re too kind,” said Havis, giving a little wave.
    Not really
, thought Suzanne, as she crossed the street to her car.
It’s just that I’m worried
enough for both of us.

CHAPTER 4
    HALFWAY across the street, Suzanne recognized Doogie’s cruiser rolling toward her. She stopped and stood in the middle of Main Street, dodged a pickup truck with a sad-looking brown dog riding in back, avoided a hotdogging kid on a banana bike, and waved at Doogie.
    She was rewarded with an acknowledging blink of his headlights as he pulled up alongside her, his driver’s side window down.
    “What’s up?” Suzanne asked, leaning in slightly. Doogie was wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses, the kind state troopers favored, and his modified Smokey Bear hat was flopped on the passenger seat next to an open bag of Fritos. She had a sudden, wild flight of fancy. Maybe the sheriff had already figured things out. Maybe he’d already dismissed Missy as a possible suspect and resolved Drummond’s death.
    Yeah, right, and maybe pigs can fly.
    Instead, Doogie removed his sunglasses and stared morosely at her.
    “You look awfully down,” said Suzanne. He hadn’t looked this upset a few hours ago. Her nerves suddenly fizzed into overdrive as she took in the full measure of his face. “What’s wrong? Did something else happen?”
    “We’ve got a murder on our hands,” said Doogie slowly. “A definite homicide.”
    Suzanne had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and now here it was. A size-fourteen clodhopper. “You found evidence to substantiate this? I thought you said you were going to wait for the forensic pathologist to make an exact determination.”
    Doogie put a meaty hand to his chest. “There are a couple of marks.” His hand moved slowly in small, concentric circles. “On Drummond’s chest.”
    “What kind of marks?”
    “I got three people who believe the pattern is consistent with that of a Taser or stun gun.”
    “You can’t die from a stun gun,” said Suzanne. She took a big gulp and added, “Can you?”
    “It’s been known to happen in a few cases,” said Doogie. “Especially if there have been rapid, repeated bursts.”
    “Wow,” she said. Then, “Who are the three people who advanced this stun gun theory?”
    “George Draper, Dick Sparrow, who is one of the paramedics, and your friend, Dr. Hazelet.”
    “And they all concur?” She suddenly wondered why her words sounded like a scripted line from
General Hospital.
    “Yes, they do,” said Doogie. “And a Taser in particular can be especially dangerous if drugs or alcohol were involved, or the victim was in some way restrained.”
    “Do you think that’s the sort of combo that killed Drummond?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “But now you’re on your way to interview Missy,” put in Suzanne. She leaned back from his window.
Really, to interrogate her.
    “Absolutely,” said Doogie. “Since she’s our primary suspect.”
    This was unacceptable to Suzanne. “That’s just plain crazy. There has to be a logical explanation for all this! For one thing Missy doesn’t own a stun gun.”
    “You sure about that?” said Doogie.
    “I don’t know
anyone
who owns a stun gun,” said Suzanne. “Besides, there have to be other suspects.”
    “Missy’s what we got so far. You and Toni swear you saw her leaving the cemetery, so that places her directly at the scene of the crime.”
    “Not directly,” said Suzanne. “There’s that time difference.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” said Doogie.
    “Sure it does. If Drummond died earlier and Missy was there later there’s probably no correlation.”
    “That’s not how I see it,” said Doogie. His right hand wandered over and dug into his bag of