Free Cooking Up Trouble by Joanne Pence

terrible tonight. That’s what made the noise. It was the wind through some open part of the house. Or something.” She stopped, aware she was clutching at straws.
    “Or maybe,” Patsy said, staring at her husband, “it was Finley.”
    No one replied.
    “It appears everyone’s here but the Baymans,” Paavo said, breaking the uneasy silence. “Would you get them, Miss Tay?”
    Fear crossed her face momentarily before she masked it. “You want them to wait with the rest of us for the sheriff?”
    “Everyone should be here.”
    “It might be very late before the sheriff can get through,” Moira added. “Perhaps morning. Since Miss Greer’s already dead, I see no reason for the sheriff to hurry. We’re wasting time down here for nothing.”
    “The Baymans, please, Miss Tay,” Paavo asked again.
    She paled, but left without another word.
    “You haven’t met Mr. Vane yet, Paavo,” Angie said. The two men shook hands as Angie introduced them. “Mr. Vane is another investor. He’s from British Columbia,” she explained.
    Vane’s grip was loose. His hands were pasty and smooth and, like the others’ hands, showed no marks or scratches. “Have you been down here long?” Paavo asked.
    “Miss Tay knocked on my door earlier and told me what happened to Miss Greer. I’m afraid I would have slept through all the excitement otherwise. I decided to come down to await the sheriff with the rest of you.”
    Paavo nodded.
    “Mr. Smith’s a homicide detective,” Chelsea told Reginald. “It’s good there was no foul play or we might all be suspects.”
    “You’re making way too much out of this.” Running Spirit’s voice boomed across the room. “An old lady got sick and died. What’s the problem?”
    Paavo didn’t want to go into just what the problem was. Until the sheriff arrived, he’d keep his own counsel.
    Earlier, in the kitchen, he’d used the top of his pen to push down Miss Greer’s high collar and expose her neck. Dark bruises and abrasions indicated she had been strangled. Careful examination of her hands showed the possibility of blood and skin under her fingernails, as if she had struggled with her killer.
    The kitchen, however, was neat and undisturbed, with no sign of her being taken by surprise either while workingor perhaps just getting a late snack. Deep scuff marks marred one portion of the otherwise immaculately waxed linoleum floor.
    He suspected it had been a brief but desperate struggle with a killer she had known well enough that he or she could get close to her without arousing suspicion or fear. The killer had struck before she could even cry out.
    What, though, was Miss Greer doing in the kitchen at that time of night? And why was the killer there? Could it have been a planned meeting? All of this information and speculation he’d share only with the sheriff, and perhaps Angie. Right now, in this house, there were only two people who knew how Miss Greer had died. Him and the murderer.

7
    Moira led the Baymans into the library. For two people who’d retired for the night an hour or two earlier, they appeared surprisingly awake.
    Paavo stood before the assembled group. “I had hoped the sheriff would have arrived by now. Since he hasn’t, there’s a good chance he can’t get through. All of you should understand that Miss Greer’s death coupled with Mr. Tay’s disappearance is suspicious in itself.”
    “Oh, my God,” Chelsea cried. Everyone faced her. “What if Finley Tay killed Miss Greer? And he disappeared to establish an alibi?”
    “Why don’t you stick with your horny ghosts?” Running Spirit said disgustedly. “You’ve got vapors for brains.”
    “Miss Worthington isn’t the only one who will draw conclusions,” Paavo said. “As a police officer at the scene, I need to ask each of you a few questions.”
    They grumbled loudly.
    “The sheriff’s investigation will go much faster if you cooperate with me now,” he said. “Stay here until