Free A Catered Fourth of July by Isis Crawford

me a headache. I think we’re going to need a flowchart.”
    â€œI think you may be be right. I’ll tell you one thing. These people have way too much free time.”
    Bernie poured some heavy cream into her coffee and watched the swirls the cream made as it turned the black liquid a pleasing shade of tan. It was so much better than adding skimmed milk to coffee. The skimmed milk turned the coffee an unappetizing shade of gray. Really. In the scheme of things what did fifty calories matter? It was worth it for the taste it imparted.
    â€œSo what about Gail?” Libby asked, getting back to her original question. “Do we like her for Devlin’s murder?”
    â€œAre we calling it murder now?”
    â€œYes, we are.”
    â€œLast night you said you weren’t sure.”
    â€œI didn’t say that.”
    Bernie snorted. “You most certainly did.”
    â€œI was just exploring possibilities,” Libby retorted. “But the more I think about it the more I think that, for once, the DA is right.”
    â€œMe, too.” Bernie tapped her nails on the counter. “So let’s talk about Gail, Rick Evans’ charming wife.” She took another sip of her coffee, put the cup down, finished pouring the batter into the cups, and put the muffin tins in the oven. She carried the empty bowl over to the sink and rinsed it out so she could make the bittersweet chocolate frosting she was going to top the cupcakes with.
    â€œYeah, she is a piece of work.” Libby remembered the time she’d seen Gail lash out at the checkout girl in the local hardware store when the store didn’t have what she’d needed.
    â€œShe does not take losing well,” Bernie said slowly. “Not well at all. Remember when she lost the school election for class president and put a snake in Patti Jensen’s locker and Patti fainted? Gail claimed it was an accident. Like that snake just happened to find its way in there. Like the musket just happened to explode.”
    â€œI’ll never forget that one,” Libby exclaimed. “I had the locker two doors down.”
    Bernie smiled. “That was all you talked about for weeks. Somehow I don’t think Gail’s changed. I think she’s just gotten better at hiding it.”
    â€œAs do we all. One thing is for sure. She can’t have taken it well. Losing Devlin to Juno, I mean.”
    Bernie snorted. “Now that’s an understatement if I ever heard one. Gail has hated Juno ever since she was crowned Miss Apple Queen at the Longely Apple Festival.”
    Libby wrinkled her nose. “But Gail had to know Devlin was a well–known philanderer.”
    â€œMaybe that was part of Devlin’s appeal. Philanderer.” Bernie rolled the word around in her mouth. “The word reminds me of the word philatelist . Stamp collector,” she explained, seeing Libby’s puzzled expression. “One collects women while the other collects stamps. One has a black book and the other has an album.”
    Libby shook her head. Sometimes she didn’t understand her sister. “Surely, given his reputation, Gail couldn’t have been surprised when Devlin went off with someone else.”
    Bernie dried the mixing bowl, set it on its stand, and started measuring out the ingredients for the frosting. “You know what they say about denial being a river in Egypt. Anyway, knowing Gail, she would have thought she was so wonderful that Jack would stay with her forever. Or at least until she threw him out.”
    â€œYes. She’d definitely want to be the one doing the leaving,” Libby agreed.
    â€œDon’t we all.” Bernie took the butter out of the cooler so it would have time to soften then got out the sugar, vanilla, dark chocolate, and coffee extract.
    â€œYes, we do. But some of us feel more of a need than others.”
    Bernie put her hands on her lower back and stretched. She’d