Read Murder Gone A-Rye (A Baker's Treat Mystery) for Free Online Page B

years, telling their story to raise war bonds.”
    “In fact I think the library archives have a recording of one of the live radio shows they did,” Grandma said.
    “Wait.” I leaned forward. “So Champ’s story got him and Homer out of the war?”
    “Oh, yes,” Phyllis said. “It was a very clever plan. Champ was a fantastically charismatic storyteller, and Homer was a clever, quiet man with the physique of an athlete. It was the perfect combination.”
    “So, how is this tied to Lois’s death?” I asked again. Sometimes my family could go out on a tangent and never return.
    Grandma brushed crumbs off her butterfly-patterned skirt. “Hold your horses, it’s coming. You have to hear the whole story.” She reached for another cookie and took a bite before she continued. “Once the war was over, Homer had his medal and his political connections. Champ favored booze and women. So Homer paid him to go away as quietly as a charismatic storyteller could go.”
    “They say Champ went out west to Las Vegas and lived off what his story could buy,” Bill said. “Meanwhile, Homer was a local hero, a lifelong mayor with an eye on the governorship.”
    “Hearing that his war buddy was climbing the political ladder, Champ arrived back in Oiltop with his pockets empty and his hand out,” Grandma said. “You see, Champ knew every one of Homer’s secrets.”
    “And Lois?” I had to ask.
    “Lois also knew Homer’s secrets. Champ’s arrival is when things got dicey. Right, Ruth?” Phyllis’s eyes sparkled in the low light of the fake-Victorian porcelain lamps Mom had installed. The small fire in the green-tiled fireplace warmed the room, taking the edge off the cold wind that whistled through the old bay window.
    “I heard
dicey
and
Ruth
in the same sentence. What did Grandma get mixed up into now?” Tasha walked in, pulling off her gloves and scarf. Kansas in November was the perfect combination of warm days and cold nights.
    “Hi, Grandma,” Kip, Tasha’s ten-year-old son said as he slumped down on the rug intent on his handheld game. Tasha and Kip had moved into the homestead when her bed-and-breakfast went under. Now they lived in the suite on the fourth floor and Tasha worked as weekend manager at the Red Tile Inn.
    “Kip, take your coat off and hang it up,” Tasha scolded.
    “Okay.” The boy didn’t move, his full focus on whatever game was in his hands.
    “Kip, you know the rules—hang up your coat or I will take away the game.”
    “You can’t take away my game,” Kip said. “I’m on level eight. If you take it away I’ll have to start all over.”
    “Kip.” Tasha’s tone was stern but soft. The thing about my best friend was that, unlike in my family, the softer her voice became the angrier she was.
    “Better do it, boy.” Bill leaned toward him. “She means it.”
    “Fine.” Kip huffed and ripped off his coat. He was about to toss it into the corner when Tasha leaned down and lifted his game hand so his attention was level with her face. There was a long uncomfortable pause before Kip gave in. “I’ll hang it up.”
    “Yes, you will.” Tasha straightened and watched her son go out into the hallway. I could hear the hall closet door open and then close.
    “I’m going to my room,” Kip said.
    “Tell everyone good night.” Tasha had her coat off and folded over her arm.
    Kip popped his blond head into the room. “Good night, everyone.”
    “Good night, Kip.”
    “’Night, boy.”
    “Good night, dear.”
    “Don’t forget to hang your coat up,” Kip said to his mom right before he disappeared into the hall. Tasha rolled her eyes as the sound of her son charging up the stairs echoed through the hall.
    She held up her hand. “Don’t say another thing until I get back.” Tasha was back before I could swallow the coffee I’d sipped. “Now, what did I miss? Besides the fact that Brad”—she sent me a look—“and Aunt Phyllis are here.” She walked over and gave