Free A Luring Murder by Stacy Verdick Case Page A

fishing with me this afternoon?”
    We still didn’t have a primary crime scene, no cause of death, and Digs was still struggling for answers. Still I was supposed to be on vacation with Gavin.
    “I’m going to help interview the Peterman’s, and then we’ll see where we’re at.”
    “Oh.” I could see his face in the passenger side mirror. We’d be having that same old conversation about my job. I could read it in the frown lines of his face.
    We parked in front of the large white house, where preparations for a party were being made. Children ran around chasing each other, and women in filmy dresses wandered past us chatting and laughing with one another. The women carried a huge plastic bowl of noodle salad with plastic wrap over the heaping top.
    “Looks like they’re getting ready for a party,” I said.
    “It’s the Fish Fry Feeding Frenzy,” Gavin said. “Remember? I told you about it.”
    “Oh, right.”
    It still sounded odd to me to call a party something so strange.
    “Sheriff.” Gavin leaned forward. “Tell me that there is no reason for Catherine to miss the feeding frenzy.”
    He put the car into park. “No reason that I can think of. I’m planning to be at the party myself.”
    “Digs and I will be there,” Louise chimed in. “Mr. Peterman told us about it when we checked in. Sounds like a lot of fun.”
    I hate eating outside with bugs and animals, not to mention children. That’s why I was here though – to go on a normal family vacation with Gavin. If he wanted to eat outside, then we would eat outside.
    “I wasn’t going to try to get out of it. I’m looking forward to the party. Except the fish part.”
    We piled out onto the Peterman’s front lawn.
    Gavin kissed me on the cheek. “Lucky for you there seems to be more than just fish.” He gave a nod toward the tables of food lined up against the side of the house. “So you’ll have plenty to nosh on.”
    I bared my teeth and bit at him. He narrowed his eyes, then touched the tip of my nose with his index finger.
    “I’m going to clean this fish so they’re ready to be fried. It will be our contribution to the pot luck.”
    He happily scurried off into the garage to clean his kill; the great dorky hunter in sandals and socks.
    Louise hobbled up next to me. “You don’t like fish?”
    “Never have.”
    “You’ve never had fish the way the Peterman’s cook fish,” Sheriff Anderson called across the roof of the cruiser. “You’ll like fish after you’ve tried their fish.”
    “I doubt it,” I said. “Let’s find the Peterman’s and question them, so we can be sure we make the party tonight. I’d hate to miss the Fish Fry Feeding Frenzy.”
    We found Mrs. Peterman, a tall, slender, gray-haired woman in her mid to late sixties, standing over a large saucepot in her kitchen. The skin on her face bordered on crimson. Sweat beaded and trailed down her neck dispersing into wet circles on the collar of her cotton shirt. The kitchen broiled like a kiln in the heat of the day, and the flames of the stove.
    With the brisk business the resort seemed to do, I was surprised they hadn’t had central air installed years ago.
    “Mrs. Peterman?” I said.
    “Yes.” She didn’t turn to look at me.
    “Mrs. Peterman, we wanted to ask you some questions about the body found in your fish house.”
    She glanced at me sideways. “Who are you?”
    Her question took me off guard. Considering we’d met a couple time already.
    “These ladies are helping with the investigation.” The sheriff leaned against the refrigerator and fanned himself with his baseball cap. “You already know that, Claire.”
    She turned around and put her hands on her hips. “Well, Miller what on earth are you doing sneaking up behind me?” She swatted at him with a dishtowel. “You want a cold drink?”
    “No, I’m okay,” he said.
    “I’ll take one,” I said.
    She turned back toward her pot. “The glasses are on the shelf behind you.” She