Free A Shattering Crime by Jennifer McAndrews Page A

another principal pretending to be interested. But the scene through the bakery window dispelled those visions from my past.
    Rozelle kept only two small tables inside the bakery with a total of six chairs between them. She was seated at one. Detective Nolan was standing beside her.
    â€œHim,” my mother said as I suffered a figurative punch in the gut at the sight of the CLOSED sign hung on the door and reached for the handle. “That’s the man who was asking for you.”
    I turned back to face her. “What were you doing down here anyway? You were supposed to meet me at Grace’s.”
    â€œHow was I supposed to know the bakery was closed? I wanted to get some fresh bread for your grandfather,” she said. “He likes the rye.”
    I almost said I know, that I always kept a spare loaf in the freezer in case of emergencies requiring toast or roastbeef, but before I could get the words out, Detective Nolan called my name.
    â€œCome on in,” he said once he had my attention.
    I waved my mother ahead through the door and followed her inside. As predictable as sunrise, the gorgeous aroma of fresh-baked breads and sweet cakes filled my senses, making my mouth water and my belly protest its need of a treat. The misbehaved voice in the back of my mind tried to make me believe since I had to leave my beloved cat at the vet that I deserved something highly fattening to ease the upset. But the display cases filled with Rozelle’s amazing baked goods stretched along the right side of the shop, and Detective Nolan stood on the left, hands in his pockets and elbows holding open his suit jacket. I had a feeling the pose was calculated to show off the gleaming detective’s shield clipped to his belt.
    â€œI heard you were looking for me,” I said, looking away from Nolan and instead searching the shop for Diana. Rozelle remained seated at the little table, hands clasped tightly in her lap, gaze locked on the display counter, and a single uniformed officer stood admiring the cups and saucers that decorated the far wall. Diana was nowhere to be found. “Or someone was anyway. Where’s Diana?”
    Detective Nolan tipped his head toward the back ovens. “Working,” he said. In two long strides he stood before us, extended his hand to my mother. “We didn’t meet properly. I’m Detective Nolan, Pace County Police Department.”
    â€œJoanne Sutter.” My mother laid the tips of her fingers against his palm, as though she was far too old-fashioned to shake hands with a man.
    If Detective Nolan was at all surprised to hear my mother refer to herself as Sutter while my last name was Kelly, it did nothing to disturb his impassive cop face. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mrs. Sutter? I’d like to talk to Georgia for just a few minutes.”
    Mom looked from Nolan to me and back again. “What business do you have with my daughter, Detective? Don’t tell me she’s in some kind of trouble,” she said over a laugh.
    Nolan treated her to a lightning strike of a smile—a brilliant flash that was gone as fast as it came. “Not that I’m aware of,” he said.
    I knew he was kidding. I knew I hadn’t done anything to warrant suspicion from the police. So why did my stomach knot? What was my conscience guilty of?
    â€œYou know when she was a teenager, she had a bad habit of driving without a license,” my mother offered.
    â€œOnce.” I folded my arms. “Once I drove without a license. Once does not create a habit.”
    Mom gave me an indulgent smile before renewing her efforts at charming Detective Nolan. “She’s never been one to follow orders.”
    His smile then was slyer, almost mischievous, and directed at me. “I never would have guessed.”
    â€œOh, the stories I could tell you,” Mom said.
    â€œI’d love to hear them sometime, Mrs. Sutter.” He gestured toward the