Free A Shattering Crime by Jennifer McAndrews Page B

empty chair opposite Rozelle. “But right now, if you wouldn’t mind . . .”
    Mom finally acquiesced. She joined Rozelle at the little round table, immediately launching into a conversation about Grandy’s fondness for fresh-baked rye bread, while Detective Nolan tipped his head toward the front door.
    I preceded him out onto the sidewalk, surprised to find that after leaving the sweet, yeasty aroma of the bakery, the early autumn air carried a delicious fragrance all its own, a crisp, clean scent as refreshing as a soft breeze over new snow.
    Turning my face to the sky, I took a deep breath, let my eyes slip closed. One deep breath to keep thoughts of my cat and my mother and the question of who had sharper claws from intruding on my thoughts and making it tough to focus on whatever it was Nolan wanted to talk to me about this time. One deep breath to help me face the good detective, just the two of us, for the first time in months.
    â€œSo that’s your mother, huh?” Nolan asked once the door had shut behind him.
    â€œAccording to all reliable accounts,” I said. “Maybe some unreliable ones, too. It’s possible.”
    I don’t know why I expected him to look somehow different since the last time I had seen him. A couple of months would not have changed his appearance, yet I found myself peering close, looking for a few more laugh lines around his eyes, a wider swath of gray at his temples, but neither were there.
    â€œWhat, um, what did you need to talk to me about?” I asked. Again I folded my arms across my chest, somehow bracing myself.
    He met my gaze, eyes locked on mine as seconds ticked away. I nearly shivered with the feeling he was trying to see inside me something I wasn’t willing to show. One breath before the situation went from awkward to uncomfortable, he finally spoke. “According to Rozelle, you entered the reception tent early yesterday.”
    I nodded. “I went to see if she needed any help setting up.”
    â€œYou want to walk me through that?”
    I didn’t think there could be anything illuminating in my story of heading for the tent before the speeches were over and offering to put napkins on tables, but for Nolan’s sake, I went back through it, step by step, as best I could recall.
    â€œSo I helped the girl, Nicole, put cookies out on tables,” I finished. “Chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin.”
    â€œAnd what was Rozelle doing while you were doing that? Do you recall?”
    The door to the bakery swung open and Diana stepped out onto the sidewalk, a cardboard box with filled bags labeled EVIDENCE tucked under her arm. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with both me and the detective.
    I watched her for moments only before turning back to Detective Nolan. “You don’t honestly believe that man opposed to building the promenade was poisoned, do you?”
    He set his hands on his hips, hung his head as he sighed. “That’s the preliminary cause of death. It’s my job to investigate based on that finding.”
    â€œOkay, sure, I understand that part. But . . . Rozelle?Seriously? Come on. Rozelle runs a little bakery that closes by five. What possible motive would she have for poisoning David Rayburn? You’d do better to look for someone who stands to benefit from the promenade. Like someone in building or construction,” I said.
    Detective Nolan’s brows rose high.
    Oh, crap. “Pretend I didn’t say that last part.”
    â€œGeorgia, just tell me what Rozelle was doing while you and Nicole were putting out cookies.”
    â€œShe was directing,” I said. “Or overseeing or whatever else you want to call it. Making sure we separated the cookies and put them on each table.”
    â€œThat’s all she was doing? Giving orders while you did all the work?” Nolan sounded doubtful, as though he couldn’t quite believe