Read The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) for Free Online Page B

his hand into
     the potting soil, which I had recently prepared for the planting of spring flowers.
    He let the soil sift through his fingers, studying its quality. "Needs potassium to
     be more fertile," he muttered. "A little potash and nitrogen, too."
    Patty, meanwhile, had plopped her large frame in the chair Robert Fischer had recently
     vacated. I held my breath as the chair groaned but, fortunately, didn't collapse.
     She was wedged in tightly, filling every inch of it, and I wondered if it might require
     Crisco and a crowbar to extract her from it.
    "Doing okay?" I asked.
    "Fine, fine," Otto said, without even a glance in my direction.
    Patty looked astounded, as if she couldn't quite believe her husband had the audacity
     to respond in such a manner or had even taken it upon himself to respond at all. She
     leaned forward and said, "We're not fine, Otto, not fine at all. We're being held
     here and made to look like criminals in the eyes of all Rockdale's citizens. I'm sure
     at this very moment we're being gossiped about all over town. I know all the members
     of my bridge club must think I'm a suspect in Prescott's murder, and I don't know
     how I'll ever face any of them again. It's humiliating to the core, Ms. Starr. Rosalinda
     Swift agrees totally with me about this, I might add. It is a travesty of justice,
     and I, for one, intend to sue somebody for this assassination of my character."
    With a dramatic "Humph!" and a lot of exertion, Patty pushed herself back into the
     chair, which made creepy sounds as if struggling to support her weight.
    "Oh, my, Mrs. Poffenbarger, I'm so sorry you and Ms. Swift feel that way," I said.
     Why did I feel I had to coddle this whiner when I really just wanted to slap the self-righteous
     look off her face? "I'm sure the detectives will let you leave if you prefer not to
     stay at the inn. Detective Johnston said it was a request, not a demand, and intended
     only to simplify matters."
    "Humph!" Patty Poffenbarger repeated.
    Slap, slap, slap, I said to myself.
    "You and Mr. Poffenbarger are not suspects, nor is Ms. Swift, and I don't think anyone
     is under the impression that you are. The detectives just need to question you in
     case you heard or saw anything that might be useful in their investigation. That's
     really all there is to it."
    "If we were to leave, we'd look like we were hesitant to speak with the investigators.
     As if we had something to hide," Patty said. "Isn't that right, Otto?"
    Otto looked up, cocked his head and shrugged. "Yes, dear."
    It was obvious to both him and me that Patty didn't really care about his opinion.
     He immediately went back to running his fingers through the soil in the planter.
    But Patty had made a point I couldn't dispute. I know I'd move them up the ladder
     on my own suspect list if they refused to cooperate with the investigating team. "It
     will probably only be for one more day, anyway," I said. "They've already taken statements
     from Stone and me and a few of the guests, and fingerprints from all of us. Remember,
     Stone and I are in the same boat as you. I was the first one to be questioned, in
     fact. Besides, Mrs. Poffenbarger, would it be all that horrible to have to stay here
     one or two more days? It's what you had originally intended to do anyway, and now
     the accommodations are complimentary, and you'll be able to enjoy a little unexpected
     rest and relaxation."
    "Oh, I suppose that's true," Patty said in resignation. She picked a coaster up from
     the sofa table and began to fan herself. "Goodness, it's hot!"
    "Would you like me to get you some ice water or something?" I needed to go inside
     and get some more coffee, anyway. If it did nothing else, it would warm me up a bit.
    "No, it's likely just a hot flash. This stress we're under is not good for me. I have
     a thyroid problem, you know. It's underactive, you understand—Hashimoto's Thyroiditis,
     the condition is called. It's the reason I have to contend