Free Sight Shot (Imogene Museum Mystery #3) by Jerusha Jones

buffet line.
    At the door, I stopped and peered into the darkness beyond the docks. A bright white light bobbed on what I supposed was a corner of the fireworks barge. Every once in a while, a form would pass in front of the light, blocking it. The guys must be making final adjustments. Pete would have moved his tug out of the way, probably moored at the Port of Platts Landing pilings, and the firefighters would come and go from the anchored barge via someone’s private fishing boat.
    I stepped into the humid warmth of the Burger Basket.
    “Meredith, good to see you.” Pastor Mort’s face was shiny with perspiration. “You’re my cue to start shuttling in the cookies.”
    “ Need help?”
    “ Nope. I have my orders.” He smiled toward Sally then whispered. “I get to do the heavy lifting while you ladies do the arranging. Just set aside a couple of Mary Hardy’s peanut butter crispy bars for me.”
    I chuckled. “Will do.”
    I helped Sally spread tablecloths until Mort arrived with the first delivery of cookies loaded in a giant Red Flyer wagon. He had several containers tucked under his arm, too.
    “What’d I tell you? Heavy lifting.”
    “ Genius.” I took the containers from him, and he piled the wagon’s contents on a table.
    Mort left for a second load.
    While Sally and I were popping open lids and arranging cookies on platters, I asked, “Did you know Spence Snead?”
    “ Oh, goodness, yes. But it’s been a while since — one of the hardest funerals Mort’s ever done.” She cocked her head. “You’re asking for a reason.”
    “ I met Wade a few days ago and got a little of the story from Sheriff Marge. You know how she keeps everything bottled up. I can’t imagine — but it was clear she really cared about Spence, and about Big John’s friendship with Spence.”
    “ Yes.” Sally straightened and pressed an empty container to her middle, her arms crossed over it. “It was very hard for everyone, but they were especially close. Big John was a Vietnam vet too, saw action in some of the same places as Spence but at different times. Big John was devastated when Spence died, and I don’t use that word lightly. No one thought — no one expected that Spence was so close to — was considering suicide. I’m not even sure Spence knew. It might have been a spontaneous decision. He was depressed, despondent — often.”
    “ Did he have hobbies?” What a lame question, but I was curious.
    “ Hunting, fishing — the usual.” Sally shook her head. “I don’t know. He kept his cabin in good repair, so I expect he had carpentry skills.”
    “ Gardening?”
    Sally ’s brow wrinkled. “Just about everyone around here with enough land dabbles in gardening, but I don’t recall anything particular in that vein.” She gave me a half-smile. “What’re you working on, Meredith?”
    “ I don’t know. Wade brought me some family documents, and I think he’s looking for things of historical or maybe collectible value. They seem rather ordinary, but I think I’m missing something.”
    “ Hmmm. The family’s not wealthy, at least they never lived like it. Not poor, either — just modest, average.”
    A terrific metallic crash came from the kitchen.
    “Finney,” Sally answered my surprised look. “He’s starting both commercial coffee pots. No sense in messing around with twenty-cuppers when Finney has the equipment necessary to satisfy hordes of fishermen — and fireworks-watchers up past their bedtime.”
    In all, there were four wagon-loads of cookies, creating an amazing spread. Mort insisted I join him in a pre-event tasting of peanut butter crispy bars. I am now addicted. Sally assured me the recipe is in the coming-soon community cookbook.
    Frankie was one of the first viewers to arrive. She was swaddled up to her eyeballs. I guessed she knew how to dress for the cold if she survived Pennsylvania winters. “Oh, isn’t this marvelous.” She clasped her gloved hands together.