Free Inherit the Word (The Cookbook Nook Series) by Daryl Wood Gerber Page B

weren’t you?”
    “No. Today’s my day off, so I took my daughter to the park at the south end of town.”
    Huh. I could have sworn Natalie had said that her daughter and son-in-law couldn’t come to the competition because they were working. Perhaps she had lied because she was embarrassed to say she didn’t have her daughter’s support.
    “The police questioned me,” Ellen said. “They asked for my alibi, like you did.”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “It’s all right. I don’t mind. In time, everyone will want to know. This town, like all small towns, thrives on gossip. I’m not sure the police believe me.” She moved to her daughter and tucked the blanket under the girl’s neck, then returned to me. “No one saw me at the park. It was empty.”
    “Because it’s a school day.”
    “Exactly. The park is loaded with kids and parents on the weekends.”
    “If you don’t mind my asking, why didn’t you come to the Grill Fest?”
    “Mother’s wishes.” The words had bite to them. “She told me never to come to the first round of the competition. She thought I would bring her bad luck.” Ellen’s voice caught. “Bad luck,” she repeated. “I’d say being murdered is bad luck, wouldn’t you?” Tears trickled from her eyes. She brushed them away with a knuckle. “I always did what she said. Always. If only this time . . .” She surveyed the shop, letting the regret hang in the air.
    “I’m so sorry. I heard she could be rigid.”
    “Rigid?” Ellen blinked. “No. Firm. There’s a difference. I felt no animosity. Ever. None whatsoever.”
    I remembered a line from Shakespeare:
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Something in Ellen’s words didn’t ring true. “Would your sister agree?”
    “My sister? Who told you about her?”
    “Chief Pritchett. I didn’t know you had a sister.”
    “She’s older.”
    “She’s on her way to town, right?”
    Ellen bobbed her head once. “Why were you talking to the police?”
    “I had a theory to share. About Mitzi Sykes.”
    “Mitzi.” Ellen almost spit the name. “She hated Mother. She wanted her husband Sam to stop working for her. I think she envied my mother’s relationship with Sam. They were such good friends. I wouldn’t put it past Mitzi to have murdered Mother.”
    “Ellen. Hon. There you are.” Ellen’s husband, Willie, strode into the shop wearing surfer shorts. His Hawaiian-style shirt flapped open, exposing his chiseled chest, slick with oil. A thatch of hair drooped across his forehead. I’d seen Willie at the beach on numerous occasions. Despite his slightly crooked nose, he had never appeared so rakishly handsome. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
    He strode to her and draped an arm around her shoulders. How sweet that he cared so much, I mused, until Ellen whispered, “How worried could you have been? You went surfing.”
    “A quick one.” He matched her hushed tone.
    “Did you drop by Die Hard Fan, as well?” Ellen said, referring to a sports memorabilia shop in town. She attempted to fetch something from his back pocket. “Is that a receipt?”
    Willie grabbed her wrist to prevent her. “Don’t.” He immediately released her.
    “Who’s watching the diner with you gone?”
    “It’s cool.”
    “No, it’s not. We have obligations.”
    “Chill.” Willie offered a quirked-up smile. “I put some servers in charge of the place. It does them good to have more responsibility. You know that.” He eyed the books on the counter and glanced at Ellen. He slipped his arm around her waist. “Are you planning on buying books, hon?”
    A silent moment passed between them. Ellen flinched.
    Then she said, “Jenna, I hope you didn’t expect me to buy books today. I don’t know what I was thinking bringing them to the register. I’m in a fog. I’m not myself, you understand.”
    “Of course. I’ll keep them on hold.”
    “No need to do that.”
    “Okay. I can always reorder if we’re out of