Free By Book or by Crook by Eva Gates

watching me too carefully to be serious.
    I blinked. “What?”
    “Amos O’Malley’s her uncle,” Butch explained.
    “Is that so?” Watson walked away.
    He was joking. Wasn’t he?
    Without so much as a good-bye to Butch, I fled. I knew what my shaking nerves needed. I drove into Nags Head, fully conscious of the speed limit. It wouldn’t do, not now, to be pulled over forspeeding. The summer season was swinging into high gear, and the roads in Nags Head were full of RVs, camper trailers, and cars loaded down with beach chairs, pillows, and excited kids.
    I wanted to enjoy the drive, but thoughts of yesterday wouldn’t be banished. I tried to envision the scene at the reception. What had been happening moments before we heard that thud and then Bertie cry out?
    I’d been talking to (flirting with?) Butch. Couldn’t ask for a better alibi than that.
    Josie and Aunt Ellen can’t be suspects.
    Josie had been at the buffet table, laying out yet another round of treats, with Aunt Ellen helping her. Moments before they would have been in the staff break room, where the food and drink were assembled.
    Connor?
I’d seen him, doing the rounds of the room, chatting with everyone. I couldn’t swear he hadn’t slipped out for a couple of minutes.
    Ridiculous to even think of the mayor doing something like that.
    I pounded the dash in frustration. I simply didn’t know enough to speculate.
    Josie’s Cozy Bakery was located in one of the numerous, unattractive strip malls that line the Croatan Highway as it runs through the towns of Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, and Nags Head, part of which forms Bodie Island. Bodie Island, however, is not actually an island. Apparently it was at one time, but shifting sands and constant movement of the ocean filled in a section of the channel. Still, it has the feel of an island, a long, thin island where you cansee water on both sides at higher elevations. These higher elevations are mainly found in buildings, as it’s pretty darn flat.
    I pulled off the highway into the mall. The line outside Josie’s Cozy Bakery spilled out the door and curved past the neighboring beachwear store and art gallery. As I cruised through the lot, wondering if I’d be able to find a place, a gleaming silver Lexus with Ontario plates pulled out of a spot, and I snagged it.
    I’d take that as a good omen for the remainder of the day.
    I took my place in the line, breathing in the delicious scents of warm pastry, hot cinnamon, and rich coffee, all mingling with fresh, salty air off the ocean. The line was long but it moved swiftly, and I was soon through the doors.
    Josie had decorated the place as Seattle coffee bar–meets–Outer Banks fishing shack. The service area was all glass and chrome, everything polished to a high gloss. Stocky white mugs and thick glasses were stacked against the beige walls, the display case stuffed full of mouthwatering delights. Espresso machines hissed and spat clouds of sizzling steam. In the seating area, the chairs were upholstered in a nautical blue-and-white print, the tables made from recycled barrels or wooden tea chests. Large, framed photographs of sailing ships and lighthouses decorated the walls. I recognized the distinctive white with three black bands of my lighthouse. The picture had been taken at night, from behind the building, looking out over the marshes to the sea. The ocean looked dark and foreboding, the rotating light at the top offering guidance and protection to men in ships.
    “Lucy. Over here!” Aunt Ellen waved at me from a table tucked into a back corner. Bertie was with her, as were Ronald and Charlene. They had full mugs and plates of scones or muffins in front of them. I waived in return and pointed to the cash register.
    The young man behind the counter was short and chubby, with a mass of cheerful dreadlocks tied back with a red-checked bandanna.
    “A large nonfat latte and a low-fat blueberry muffin,” I ordered. I hesitated, and then