Free Chewy Chocolate Chip Murder: A Cookie Lane Cozy Mystery - Book 1 by Karen Sullivan Page A

kids when Tara
couldn’t. Tara must’ve realized that Beth had a lot of money, and then killed
her for it. Right?”
    “We can’t be sure of that yet,” Bradshaw
said, “but yeah, that’s plausible.”
    “But that leaves the question – what
did Tara need to pay off? It has to be something huge if she was willing to
kill for it? And kill an amazing human being, no less,” Cat said, she dropped
her arms to her sides.
    “I think –” Bradshaw’s cell phone rang
in his pocket, and he whipped it out. It was one of those fancy smartphones with
the big flat screen.
    The kind Lacy had nagged her to get
for the last month.
    “Bradshaw,” he said. “Uh huh. All
right. I’ll be there in ten.” Then he hung up and placed the phone back in his
pocket.
    “What’s happened?” Catherine asked,
and twiddled her fingers.
    “There’s been a report of a break-in
at the Walters residence,” he said, then paused and raised his hand. “Don’t say
a word, Miss Kelley. I’ll handle this myself.”
    “But this could be about the murder.
What if it’s not safe? I don’t want you to get hurt,” she said, then rammed her
mouth shut. What a prime time to say something that sentimental to a man she
barely knew.
    Detective Bradshaw cleared his throat
and loosened his collar. “I’ll be fine. And I’m sure everything at the
residence is fine.”
    “All right,” she said, and it came out
as a squeak.
    “I’ll be in touch, Miss Kelley,” he
said, then walked to the door, back as stiff as a rock cake. He strode down the
hall, and his boots clomped on the stairs.
    Cat resumed her pacing. She walked to
the window, ripped the curtains open, and stared down at the road, lit by the
glowing orbs on top of the wrought iron streetlamps.
    “The Walters residence,” she
whispered. “The Walters residence.”
    Detective Bradshaw appeared below. He
crossed the street, then got into his police cruiser, started the engine and
drove off.
    Cat tapped her fingers on the sides of
thighs and tension unfurled in her chest. She had to know what had happened.
And most of all, she had to know why Tara had killed Beth.
    For closure, for Beth and the future
of Walters family. Rachel was involved in this too, and first impressions
aside, she’d turned out to be a sweet girl.
    Catherine turned and rushed through to
the kitchen. She snatched her car keys off the wooden pegs next to the fridge,
then ran for the hall.

Chapter 19
    The front door to the Walters’ house
stood open. The porch light illuminated the welcome mat and a tiny semi-circle
of the wooden passage within. Jack Bradshaw’s cruiser sat across the road,
empty.
    “Oh boy,” Cat whispered. “This doesn’t
look good.”
    She had to go in and find out what’d
happened, but she didn’t want to get hurt.
    “Smart,” she said. “Come on,
Catherine. You were raised to think outside the box.”
    Then an idea flashed in her eyes and
reverberated into her brain and through to her limbs. She clunked open her car
door, got out, then closed it with her hips. Catherine scooted up the path to
the door, took a right, and circled to the bushes she’d hidden in, earlier that
week.
    “Please be in the living room, please
be in the living room,” she whispered and crossed her fingers.
    She crouched and crept along the side
of the house. Branches scraped her forearms and picked at the fabric of her
jeans. She pushed past them.
    Voices rang out from the living room.
An argument of some kind.
    Cat stopped to the left of the living
room window and shut her eyes. “Please, be in the –”
    “Everyone calm down,” Detective
Bradshaw said. She’d recognize his voice anywhere.
    Catherine peered through the window.
Four people stood in the room, arranged at opposite ends.
    Tara Walters over by the sofa. Joseph
Walters next to the piano. Jack Bradshaw in the doorway, his hand on the clip
of his holster. And Jarred Weaver, closest to the window, his back to Cat. His
loose shirt flapped in the