Free Dying for a Cupcake by Denise Swanson Page B

contained only a first aid kit and jumper cables, Ronni and I dejectedly returned to the kitchen. It looked as though our only hope was that the police would decide that Fallon had died from natural causes and that Chief Kincaid would make that conclusion public before the cupcake tourists were scared out of town.

CHAPTER 7
    I waited while Ronni packed up some sandwiches and cookies for me to bring to my father and Hannah, then thanked her and headed out to my Z4. Before getting inside, I examined the paint one more time to make sure that delivery guy hadn’t scratched it.
    As I used the bottom of my polo shirt to rub off a smudge near the handle, an idea flitted through my mind. With the hope that Fallon died from natural causes becoming harder and harder to sustain, I thought more about the possible cause of her death. If it wasn’t something she ate that made her sick, what about something she touched? Something no one else had handled. Like something that arrived after everyone else left for the restaurant.
    After placing the bag of food for Dad and Hannah in the passenger seat, I turned on my heel and jogged back up the sidewalk to the B & B. I rang the bell, and as soon as Ronni answered the door, I asked, “Whatever happened to the package that Fallon was waiting for last night?”
    “I have no idea.” Ronni’s expression became thoughtful. “Once we got home from the Golden Dragon, andLee discovered that Fallon was seriously ill, I doubt anyone ever even thought about the delivery.” Ronni wrinkled her brow. “You know, now that you mention it, Fallon said they weren’t expecting anything, and Kizzy and Lee were both puzzled as to what was being sent.”
    “You didn’t notice an extra box or padded envelope sitting around?” I asked.
    “There was nothing in the public rooms or with the cupcake stuff in the pantry.” Ronni shrugged. “But I wouldn’t know if there was anything in the guests’ rooms.” She glanced at her watch. “We can ask Kizzy and Lee when we see them later at dinner.”
    “Let’s remember to do that.” I turned to go. “See you at six.”
    After leaving the B & B, I drove to the dime store and delivered the sandwiches and cookies to Dad and Hannah. The shop was busy and I took over at the register to give Dad a breather. Then once he returned, I manned the soda fountain so Hannah could have a rest. We had a nice steady stream of customers, and when we closed up at four, an hour earlier than our usual time, my cash drawer was stuffed with money, checks, and credit card receipts.
    Arriving home to change clothes, I found the place empty. I thought my father would be there, but he must have had after-work plans. I had no idea where he was or what those plans might be, as he and I hadn’t gotten back to the place in our relationship where we kept each other informed about our activities.
    Not that I thought we should return to that status. We were both adults and didn’t need to check in with each other. Still, I wondered where he was and if he was okay, since he didn’t leave the property much except to go to work.
    As always, he’d driven his own car to the store. While my mother had taken the family Lexus when she hightailed it out of town a few days after my father was convicted, my grandmother had made sure her son’s Grand Cherokee was ready for his return. I’d never realized that Gran hadn’t sold the fourteen-year-old Jeep, but when Dad came home and started driving the SUV, she’d informed me that she’d kept it tuned up and running, parked in an old barn sitting on the edge of our property.
    I knew that my grandmother had already gone to St. Saggy’s to set up for the dinner. She and her friend Frieda were members of the church’s Martha Society, a volunteer group that prepared the meals for the funerals and fund-raisers of the parish. Gran and the other ladies had been making side dishes and desserts for several days, but they would fry up the chicken just