Free As Gouda as Dead by Avery Aames Page A

the flow of tourists. The shops and restaurants on Cherry Orchard would make merry on Monday. Honeysuckle businesses would revel on Tuesday. The places on Main Street would share Wednesday. My neighbors and I on Hope Street would celebrate Thursday, hence why we were having the wine-and-cheese-pairing event.
    â€œIt’s called the Lovers Lane reading,” Tyanne went on. “Octavia is so excited about it.” Octavia Tibble owned All Booked Up, one of the most prestigious independent bookstores in Ohio. I could always rely on her to suggest good books to read. Like I, she enjoyed a great mystery. “She’s serving tea and scones. People can dress for the occasion, if they desire.” Octavia had turned the shop into a destination spot. It didn’t hurt that she was also the town’s librarian and had enticed a few of her elderly readers to donate some very special first-edition books that made all sorts of people come to town for a peek. Tyanne heaved another pain-filled sigh. “I was planning on going with Tim, but now . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    I took her hand and ushered her to one of the stools by the tasting counter. “Have you eaten today?”
    â€œHow could I? My appetite is nonexistent. It’s a happy, blissful time in paradise,” she chirped, though, clearly, her spirit was not in it. “That’s what I’m saying to all my clients. Fake it, you own it, right?” Her voice caught. “Can you believe I have four weddings in the next eight days? Four. Count them. And there are sure to be some spur-of-the-moment occasions. Ah, me.” She set her elbow on the counter and rested her forehead in the cup of her hand, and then her reserve broke. She sobbed.
    I stroked her back until she regained control, then I spread a cracker with a luscious amount of a creamy goat cheese from our local Emerald Pasture Farms, and handed it to her. “Eat. You need to keep up your strength. For your kids.” She had two; a boy the twins’ age, and a younger girl. “For your clients, too. They deserve your undivided attention.”
    â€œYou’re right.” She bit into the tidbit. “Do you know when the funeral will be for Tim?”
    â€œI’m sure the family will put it together once the coroner releases the body.”
    Tyanne nodded. “Of course.”
    â€œThis cheese is laced with lavender,” I said. “Did you know lavender is rich with aromatic esters? It’s good for healing as well as anxiety.”
    Rebecca joined us, carrying a partially filled glass of sparkling wine. “Drink this, Tyanne.” She thrust the glass at her. “It’s barely two ounces. You won’t get soused. Matthew tells me it pairs perfectly with the cheese and calms a whole passel of nerves.”
    Tyanne obeyed. After taking a sip, although her color didn’t improve, she did sit straighter in her chair. “Why did Tim go to Jordan’s farm, Charlotte?”
    â€œTim called his nephew. He left an urgent albeit muddled message. He said he saw something. When he couldn’t reach Deputy O’Shea, he went in search of Urso.”
    â€œI don’t understand. Tim wasn’t the impulsive type in any way, shape, or form. Not in business. Not in life.” Tyanne finished her morsel then wiped her hands on a Valentine-themed napkin. “Following his engagement to that young woman—” She cleared her throat. “You heard about that, right?”
    â€œFor the first time last night.”
    â€œTim never wanted to jump into dangerous waters again without knowing all the downsides. That’s why we were taking it slowly. Dating. No introductions to family, even though he adored his family. No spending the night at each other’s houses. Not yet. What could have gotten him so heated up?”
    I told her what I knew of his message to Deputy O’Shea.
    â€œDo you think he saw a crime