Free A Catered Fourth of July by Isis Crawford Page A

slept wrong the night before and her lower back was killing her. “Maybe Rick and Gail Evans worked together to kill Jack. Each of them does have a motive.”
    Libby raised an eyebrow. “Interesting theory. The family that kills together, stays together? An exercise in family bonding?”
    â€œWell, it is possible. It has been known to happen. Look at Bonnie and Clyde.”
    â€œI don’t think they were married.”
    â€œThe Macbeths?”
    Libby groaned. “Just stop.”
    â€œAll I’m saying is that what I suggested is within the realm of possibility.”
    â€œAgreed. However there is one small glitch. Gail wasn’t there.”
    â€œA mere detail,” Bernie said.
    â€œHowever, Rick Evans was there, putting on quite the performance, accusing Marvin the way he did.”
    â€œIndeed he did. It’s like he wanted people to forget that he was the person who developed the idea for the reenactment. He was the person who knew all about the arrangements.”
    â€œAnd he was the person who arranged for the costumes,” Libby said.
    Bernie went over to the counter and turned on the radio. Music helped her focus. “We should talk to Rick and Gail.”
    â€œWhy both of them?” Libby asked as the timer went off for the pies.
    â€œBecause maybe Gail knows something.”
    Libby snorted. “She’s not going to tell us.”
    â€œShe might if she’s approached in a low-key informal way.”
    Libby got up, turned the oven off, took the pie crusts out of the oven, and lined them up on the cooling racks. “Perfect,” she said, looking at the golden, flaky crusts.
    â€œYes, they are.” Bernie inhaled their aroma. “And they smell wonderful. You know, I have an idea.”
    â€œDon’t tell me.”
    â€œYou’ll like this. Okay you won’t like it, but I think I have a way to get Gail to talk. She has a standing appointment for a mani-pedi at La Dolce Vita at eleven every Tuesday . . . and today is Tuesday.”
    â€œYou’re telling me this, why?” Libby asked.
    Bernie grinned. “Because I think you should go. It would be the perfect opportunity to chat her up.”
    â€œWhy can’t you go?” Libby demanded. “Excessive grooming is your specialty.”
    Bernie raised an eyebrow. “Excessive grooming? I think I’m going to ignore that.”
    â€œSeriously, why do I have to go?”
    â€œBecause while you’re talking to Gail, I’m going to be poking around in the Evans’s house.”
    â€œWhy?” Libby asked.
    â€œYou said it yourself. Rick seems way too anxious to point a finger at Marvin. I want to find out why.”
    â€œWhat are you looking for?”
    â€œEvidence.”
    Libby rolled her eyes. “Could you be a little more specific?”
    â€œNo.”
    Libby sniffed. “That’s because you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
    â€œUntrue,” Bernie shot back.
    â€œHere’s what I think. I think I should search the place and you should get the mani-pedi.” Libby stared at her sister. “How’s that?”
    Bernie shook her head. “Sorry, but that won’t work.”
    â€œWhy in heavens not?” Libby protested.
    â€œBecause, Libby, for openers, you’re Marvin’s girlfriend and I am not.”
    â€œSo what?”
    â€œSo Gail will be more likely to talk to you.”
    â€œHow do you come up with that? I’d think it would be just the opposite.”
    Bernie flicked a speck of flour off of her tank top. “And you would be wrong. It’s called bonding.”
    â€œBonding?” Libby repeated.
    â€œYeah. In a manner of speaking. You’re going to tell Gail how upset you are that Marvin did what he did and how upset he is about the incident. You’re going to talk about what a terrible accident it was and how you’re going to miss Jack Devlin. Poke in