Free A Peach of a Murder by Livia J. Washburn Page B

"Whang," Phyllis said. "Is that good or bad?"
    "Oh, whang is good," Sam said, nodding. "You want a little whang in your food every now and then. Otherwise, everything's all . . ." He searched for a word. "Whangless."
    Phyllis took a deep breath. She didn't know the man well enough to dump a bowl of peach cobbler on his head, but right now she was sure thinking about it. "Is it good?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound too desperate.
    Sam had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, but he nodded and said seriously, "Yes, Phyllis, it's good. It's really good.,,
    She sat back and blew out a breath of relief. "I'm glad." "Going after the blue ribbon, are you? And I'd guess that " somebody else usually wins it? Somebody in this very house, maybe?"
    "I don't like to be petty about things," Phyllis said, "but I would dearly love to win this year."
    Sam pointed with his spoon at the rest of the cobbler in his bowl. "I'd say you got a mighty good shot. You mind if I finish this?"
    "Oh, no, go right ahead," Phyllis said quickly. "And if you really wane some ice cream, I have some in the freezer."
    "No, thanks. I don't want anything to interfere with the flavor.of this cobbler."
    They sat there for a few minutes in companionable silence, finishing off the cobbler in their bowls.
    When they were done, Phyllis asked, "Was there anything about it that you didn't like? Anything you can think of that would make it better?"
    Sam shook his-head. "Can't think of a thing. Far as I can tell, it was just about perfect."
    "Just about? But not actually perfect?"
    He started to look a little uncomfortable. "What I know about cooking you could put in the tip of your little finger, Phyllis. I never did much of it when I was married, and since Vicky passed away, I've eaten a lot of sandwiches and TV dinners. I can open up a can of something, dump it in a pan, and put it on the stove. That's about the extent of my culinary knowledge."
    She felt a little bad about possibly stirring up bad memories for him again, so she tried to keep the moment light by saying, "At least you know the word culinary. That's more than some men."
    He summoned up a smile. "I suppose so. Seriously, though, if I were you, I wouldn't change a thing in that cobbler. I think you've hit on a winner."
    "I hope so." She paused. "Are you going to the peach festival?"
    "Well, since I live in Weatherford now, I guess I will. Isn't there a city ordinance or something saying that you've got to go if you live here?"
    She laughed. "No, but there might as well be. There's always a big crowd. Have you ever been?"
    "Nope. This'll be a new one on me." . "You'll enjoy it. There's a lot to see and do."
    She might have told him more about it she was certainly enjoying sitting and talking to him-but at that moment she heard the front door open, followed by the sound of voices. Eve and Mattie had gotten back from the high school. Phyllis stood up quickly and draped the dish towel over the rest of the cobbler. Sam raised his eyebrows a little at her secretiveness.
    He didn't understand, of course. Mattie would never betray her secrets deliberately, but with her mind the way it was, she might let something slip while Carolyn was around. And Eve was something of a wild card, liable to act on a whim. She was friends with both Phyllis and Carolyn, and had been for a long time. Phyllis would never dream of trying to play on that friendship in an attempt to discover Carolyn's plans, and she didn't think that Carolyn would do something like that, either ... but it never hurt to be careful. Eve called, "Phyllis, dear, where are you?" and Phyllis.
    knew right away from the tone of her voice that something was wrong.
    "We're in the kitchen," she called back, not specifying that by "we" she meant her and Sam, not her and Carolyn. Eve led Mattie into the room. Mattie's eyes were redrimmed, as if she had been crying, but she seemed fairly composed now. Sam shot to his feet instantly and held his chair out, saying, "Why