Free A GRAVE CONCERN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 8) by Chloe Kendrick Page A

have to tell me. And no, we don’t have much. The ME put the time as sometime between the time you saw him in the park and 24 hours later. That’s a hell of a time to ask for alibis. No one would be covered for that entire time period.”
    I nodded, but I felt cold inside, thinking that perhaps I’d seen the murderer that night. I wanted to spread the word that I hadn’t seen anyone clearly. I didn’t want the killer to come after me next, thinking that I had seen his or her face.
    My face must have given away my nervousness. “Don’t worry. Today’s papers will specifically say that you couldn’t tell anything about the other person in the park, other than that there was another person. That lets you off the hook.”
    I breathed a sigh of relief. That was one less thing I had to worry about with this case. I didn’t want to solve it, because I was looking down the barrel of the killer’s gun or looking at the blunt weapon coming down on my head. I’d much rather be the armchair detective solving the case from the comfort of my own home.
    ***
    Apparently today was also a day for candidates to press the flesh on Government Square. A few signs bounced around a tall dark-haired man. He was attractive in that prep-school way, and the signs announced that he was Stan Chesterfield, one of the other candidates for city council. I wanted to hear about the man’s plans for his campaign, now that one of his competitors had died under suspicious circumstances.
    I tried to stand on the outskirts of the small crowd, but he soon spotted me and encouraged me to move closer. “Come on up, young lady,” he said to me, sounding like he was 50, though he was barely older than 30. He was tall, thin, and had a scruffy beard that suggested he wasn’t old enough to grow a proper one.
    I inched my way up, only because I wanted a chance to talk to him. The police had ignored the angle of a competitor for city council killing Hamilton Preston. The idea didn’t appeal to them because that motive would immediately bring in authorities other than the Capital City Police. Detective Danvers pouted for ages when I solved a crime, even when he got the credit for it. I couldn’t imagine how he would react to the federal government interfering. Even if Chesterfield were responsible, a family member had been engaged to Milton Preston, so the motive could remain personal.
    I stood and listened to Chesterfield as he droned on about what he would do for the city. Most of the promises were the same ones that politicians had made since time began. I wasn’t particularly impressed. Preston had picked on the easy targets, like the homeless, but he’d at least bothered to be specific. These promises were generic to the point where they could have been used in any election in any city across the country. My mind wandered as I listened to him.
    I had to admit that I didn’t see him as much of a potential suspect, unless he could bore a man to death. The candidate went on for another ten minutes before he stopped talking and moved out into the dwindling crowd to meet the people. He stopped by me, flashing a smile and shaking my hand for a few seconds too long.
    “I haven’t seen you before. Thanks for coming,” he said, finally letting go of my hand.
    “I was at the rally two nights ago,” I said, giving the date when I’d seen Hamilton Preston in the park. “I remember it well. You did a great job there.”
    His brow wrinkled as he looked at me. “Two nights ago, I was home. I took a rest from the campaign to spend an evening with my family. You must mean the night before that?” he said, making it sound like a question.
    I cursed under my breath. I had wanted to exclude this angle from the investigation, but apparently it would still be open if Mr. Chesterfield didn’t have a solid alibi for the evening. That would be Detective Danvers’s problem if the federal agents became involved with a possible tampering of the election. I figured