Free To Brew or Not to Brew by Joyce Tremel Page A

convinced myself. Almost.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    â€œT he football players today are a bunch of babies,” Elmer Fairbanks said. “Back in my day, they didn’t have all the fancy pads and hard helmets like they do now. Bunch of sissies, if you ask me.”
    â€œWell, we didn’t ask you,” Candy said. “And Terry Bradshaw isn’t exactly one of today’s players.”
    It had been Candy’s turn to choose the book for discussion this month, so her choice had been a biography of Terry Bradshaw, who had been a Steelers quarterback in the seventies. I hoped Candy didn’t ask me any questions, because I hadn’t read the book. I scanned the dust jacket five minutes before the meeting. The discussion had barely begun when Elmer made his comment. Every month he had some complaint about the book, except when it was his turn, of course. I’d only been with the group for a few months, but I’d heardhis picks varied between Zane Grey or Louis L’Amour and anything about World War II. I had a feeling he was a cowboy at heart. When he wasn’t wearing his 101st Airborne ball cap, he wore a Stetson.
    I liked the variety of genres. I’d been an avid reader as a child, but I’d had so much academic reading to do throughout college and grad school, I’d set pleasure reading aside. It was fun to get back to it. Ordinarily, I would have read this month’s book, even though it wasn’t a topic I was interested in. I had just gotten busy and forgotten about it until Kristie reminded me about the meeting. I was slowly learning the participants’ tastes in reading. Since I joined the group, Kristie picked the latest women’s fiction. Her mother, Pearl, liked historical fiction. Amanda, the children’s librarian, had chosen a young adult novel. It would be my turn next month—my first time—and I had no idea what to have everyone read. I did know, however, that whatever the book was, Elmer would be sure to complain.
    â€œI learned a lot, Candy,” Pearl said. “I didn’t know anything about Mr. Bradshaw before I read the book.”
    The other comments were more of the same. Needless to say, I didn’t add much to the discussion. When it seemed like we were winding down, I excused myself to use the restroom, and when I got back, Candy and Kristie were standing in the corner, deep in conversation. Everyone else was digging into the cupcakes Candy had brought. I grabbed one for myself and sat down beside Amanda.
    â€œThese are delicious,” Amanda said. “And so cute with those little footballs. I should get some of these for next week’s story time. The children would love them.”
    Elmer made a face. “In my day we weren’t allowed to eat in the library. These kids today—”
    â€œWe know, Elmer,” Candy said, returning to the table with Kristie. She shoved another cupcake at him. “Stick this in your yap. The rest of us have something important to talk about.”
    â€œWe sure do.” Kristie tapped me on the arm. “You’ve been holding out on us, Max.”
    I had no idea what she meant.
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell us Kurt was murdered?” Kristie said.
    So that’s what they’d been talking about. I’d figured Candy would spill the beans eventually. Actually, I was surprised she’d kept it to herself this long. The problem was, I didn’t want everyone in Lawrenceville to know—at least not yet. Not until I had some proof to show my dad. I put my cupcake down on my napkin. “The medical examiner said Kurt’s death was likely accidental.”
    â€œI take it you don’t believe that,” Pearl said.
    Candy spoke up. “Of course she doesn’t. Tell them what you told me, Max.”
    â€œI don’t think—”
    â€œOh, no you don’t,” Kristie said. “You’re not getting out of it now. You told me your place was