Free Death Dangles a Participle (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series) by E. E. Kennedy Page A

following me to the station house?”
    Vern pointed at me. “Well, I was taking her home, but it’s all the way out on the lake shore—”
    “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s important. Maybe the lady can take the car and drive herself home.”
    “I—I, uh, I can’t a drive stick shift, officer,” I piped up shakily.
    “Look—can I take her to Chez Prentice over on Jury Street, then meet you? Won’t take a second.”
    The officer nodded. “That should be fine, sir. Just don’t take too long, please.” He turned and ambled back to his car.
    I could tell Vern was unnerved by the way he drove. The gearshift made an appalling grinding noise as we pulled back into traffic. He swore under his breath.
    I didn’t know what to say. We traveled the few blocks to Chez Prentice in an uncomfortable silence.
    “Sorry about this,” Vern said as he braked at the curb. “I’ll come back and get you after—um, the, whatever, or maybe you can call Gil—”
    “I’ll be fine. Are you all right? What do you think it’s all about?”
    “Hey, I don’t know. Maybe my taxi license is expired or something.” He took a deep breath and turned a half-grin on me. “I’m kidding, okay? Hey, Amelia, don’t look so worried. You’ll be the person I contact with my one phone call.”
“Vern, don’t—”
    He looked at me. “Come on, cut it out. I’ll be fine. Les gendarmes are our friends.” He reached across the stick shift and gave me a clumsy, one-armed hug. “Now cheer up and get out of here.”
    I opened the car door, scowling fiercely to prevent a burgeoning flow of anxious tears, and stood on the curb watching until the little car turned the corner in the direction of the police station. One tear, then another, escaped and trickled down my cheek.
    I retrieved a tissue from my pocket and hastily wiped them away. When had I become such a crybaby? More to the point, should I call a lawyer or someone? The only one I knew at all well was, ironically, our distinguished district attorney, Elm DeWitt.
    What could I do?
    The realization came suddenly.
    Gil.
    I would call Gil and tell him all about it. He’d know what to do.
    Oh, it was good to be married and have somebody else to worry with you! I turned and trudged up the walk toward the familiar front porch.

CHAPTER NINE

    Gil wasn’t at the newspaper office when I called. “He’s running down this lake murder story. Try him on his cell phone,” suggested Wendy, the secretary/receptionist.
    I did, and a deep electronic voice suggested I leave a message, which meant he either had turned the thing off or the line was busy.
    “You okay?” Marie LeBow asked as she entered the B&B office, bearing a small tray with two steaming mugs.
    “I’m sorry. I’m in your chair.”
    She waved a hand. “Sit back down. I’ll ask you to move when I need to do some work.” She set down the tray. “I brought you some coffee, real cream like you like it.”
    She set the cup before me on the desk pad. The strong fragrance filled my nostrils. It was strange, and slightly offensive, dishwater-like.
    “Is this some kind of flavored coffee?” I asked. “Hazelnut or something?” I wasn’t fond of hazelnut.
    “Nope, it’s premium brand regular beans, fresh ground, fresh made.”
    I picked up the mug, then set it down. “You know, Marie, I don’t think I want coffee right now.” I got up. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go fix myself a piece of toast.”
    Suddenly, the simplicity of it sounded heavenly. My mouth watered.
    Marie smiled indulgently. “Well, I do need to get back to work. I’ll drink the other cup myself.”
    Back in the kitchen, Hester wouldn’t let me lift a finger. She insisted on toasting some new bread, freshly delivered from her sister in Vermont.
    “Got whole wheat in it, and nuts and stuff. Etienne says it’s what people want these days.” She dropped two slices in the toaster slots. “Two pieces all you want? Where’s that nephew of yours, Vern?