Free Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch by Darlene Franklin Page B

enjoying the meal.
    “Officer Waller asked me to come to the police station again in the morning.” Dina said after she ate the last bite of biscuit and pushed back her plate. “Why do they want to talk with me again? I’ve already told them everything I know.” She glanced at me. “And before you say anything, I’ve asked our lawyer to go with me.”
    Uh-oh . Audie and I exchanged glances. “We might know something about that. We ran into the police after the concert.”
    “They said you made a threat against Penn when he turned you down for an internship at the Herald ,” Audie said bluntly. “And Cici says it’s true.”
    “What threat?” Dina thought for a moment and her face reddened. “But. . .” She spluttered. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I mean, I got a job at the Sequoian instead, and it’s much better. Mr. Gaynor lets me a do a lot more things.”
    Five forks poised in midair over partially eaten salads. Three pairs of eyes stared accusingly at Audie, then me.
    “Not to worry.” Audie grinned. “If people committed murder every time they lost a gig, I’d be a murderer several times over.”

7
     
    August 30, 1891
    Dearest Mary,
    I am thankful for your godly advice. We must trust God to protect us and our land, after He guides us to the place He has chosen for us. Pardon my loving concern. I continue to seek the perfect place, and I believe I have found it.
    I rode out in the Sac and Fox Nation yesterday. Patches crested a hill and a piece of Eden spread out before me. A clear river cuts through the center of a verdant valley. The soil is a rich red clay, and every kind of tree grows on the river banks. Your peach and apple orchards will thrive. Small game of rabbits and squirrel abound. It is not quite a valley, more of a gulch, really, nestled between two hills.
    God willing, the land will be included in the next run.
    Your loving fiancé,
    Robert Grace
     
    ~
     
    Sunday, September 22
     
    Lost a gig? Murder? The idea was so ridiculous that I joined the others in relieved laughter. Trust Audie to know the right thing to say.
    “That’s why I like being my own boss.” Maybe I was babbling. I was trying to reassure my younger sister that I understood her feelings. I called Dina “sister” for convenience. I would do anything to protect the dear girl, even if she was now a grown-up nineteen and proud of the fact. But Audie’s comments diverted my attention. He had opened a door to his past—something he rarely did—and I wanted to find out more. “So you’ve lost a lot of gigs?” I waggled my eyebrows at Audie. “Do tell.”
    “It’s the nature of acting.” Audie took the last bite of meat and crossed his knife and fork on his plate. “No one has a job for life.”
    “He’s being overly modest.” Dina took a biscuit and buttered it. “Mrs. Mallory told us all about him when she introduced him to the cast. Plays, commercials, even some films. You were a pretty much a bigwig in Chicago.” She shook her finger at Audie.
    “Well, I had some success.” A blush spread across his pale cheeks.
    “I want to hear all about it.” Dad’s voice swung between interested host and a father interrogating a teenage boy on his daughter’s first date. “But first I want a slice of pecan pie.”
    Every year we spent hours shelling twenty pounds of nuts from the pecan harvest, which Dina turned into delicious pies and toppings and cakes. She surprised us all by taking home economics and becoming the best baker in the family. I poured cups of coffee—nothing goes better with dessert than hot, black coffee—and we retired to the living room, bringing the coffee pot with us. “Who wants ice cream with the pie?” I asked. Audie and Jenna said yes. Although she bought organic vegetables when possible, Jenna liked her comfort foods.
    I wondered how our lived-in parlor looked to a sophisticated man like Audie. Our sleeper sofa, bought for Jenna’s occasional trips home while she