Free Murder Takes the Cake Text by Gayle Trent Page B

have a happy Thanksgiving.”
    “You, too, darling. Give everybody our love and tell ‘em we’ll see them soon.”
    “I’ll do that, Aunt Nancy.”
    As I hung up, Aunt Nancy’s words replayed in my mind. He’s been there since this past weekend.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    I awoke Thursday morning with dread pinning me to the bed like a three-hundred-pound wrestler. I wondered what time it was but was afraid to look at the clock. It might be later than I thought. I might not have time to lie here and visualize every possible scenario that could take place at Violet’s house today . . . none of them pleasant.
    I burrowed deeper beneath the covers. I’d slept fitfully last night. I wondered about Uncle Hal being in town. It was deer season, so it was plausible that he’d spent the past few days hunting with friends. But I hadn’t known he was here, and Violet hadn’t mentioned anything about it either.
    Was it possible there was something more damning about Uncle Hal in Mrs. Watson’s book? Something I’d overlooked? Something he’d kill to avoid having revealed?
    I gave myself a mental shake. Now I was being ridiculous. Even if Uncle Hal had been involved in Vern March’s accident, that took place a long time ago. What difference could it possibly make after all these years? A tiny voice inside my brain whispered, “There is no statute of limitations on murder.”
    I bolted upright. I had to get up and get over these foolish imaginings. Uncle Hal was not a murderer. I’d always seen him as a big, strong teddy bear . . . a protector . . . a guardian angel who’d never let anyone hurt me. Why, when he’d heard that Todd had taken a shot at me, he threatened to . . . to kill him. Of course, that was anger talking. If anyone hurt Leslie or Lucas, I’d be out for blood myself. That doesn’t mean I’d actually take someone’s life. Right?
    I said a quick prayer for strength and got out of bed.
     
    *
     
    I had dressed cautiously, choosing black silk pants, a maroon satin shirt, black flats and a string of grey pearls. I felt comfortable but knew . . . okay, hoped . . . I looked nice enough to pass Mom’s scrutiny.
    I carefully took the cake I’d brought from the passenger side of the car. Thankfully, it was gloriously sunny so I didn’t have to worry about rain. I bumped the car door shut with my hip and walked slowly up Violet’s walk.
    Lucas and Leslie, their blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight, flung open the door. They’d apparently been watching for me.
    “We’re so glad you’re here!” Lucas shouted. “We’ve been waiting for you all day!” He appeared ready for the day’s football games in a Virginia Tech jersey and running pants.
    I laughed. “But I’m early. It’s not even eleven o’clock.”
    “We know,” Leslie said, looking like a miniature pop star in her flared jeans and lacy top. “But it seemed like forever . Can we see the cake?”
    “Yes. Come on, and I’ll put it on your mom’s cake plate.” I glanced around the living room and saw Dad sitting in Vi’s plush blue rocker watching the parade. In his tan cardigan and brown slacks, he looked alone and sad and pitiful . . . even though he broke into a huge grin upon seeing me. Okay, he actually looks like normal; but knowing what I know makes him appear sad and pitiful to me. “Hi, Dad.”
    “Hi, honey. You look like best-in-show at the county fair. Whatcha got there?”
    “It’s a chocolate cake with white icing.”
    “Hmph. I might have my dessert first then.”
    “Plus, this cake is gorgeous , Grandpa,” Leslie gushed.
    I smiled. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”
    “Still, I know it’ll look as great as it tastes.”
    “Nuh-uh.” Lucas shook his head. “I think it’ll look good, Aunt Daphne, but it’ll taste best.”
    “Well, stop arguing over it and give me a hunk of it,” Dad said. “I’m starving.”
    “Oh, you are not,” Mom told him, coming out of the kitchen. She looked at