Free A Catered Thanksgiving by Isis Crawford Page B

at the moment, she thought as she watched Perceval take out his phone and call the police.

Chapter 9
    â€œI wish I hadn’t given up smoking,” Bernie said as she brushed the snow off her pants.
    â€œI wish I had started,” Libby told her as she did likewise.
    â€œWell, one thing is clear. We’re not getting out of here now,” Bernie said, gloomily surveying the van’s wheels, which were buried under the snow.
    â€œNot without a snowplow and snowshoes we’re not,” Libby agreed, amazed at how much effort it took to walk in snow up to her knees.
    Bernie studied the blizzard raging in front of them. She figured the wind was gusting at a good forty miles an hour, making visibility impossible. They couldn’t see the road they’d come up on, much less the fireworks bunker near the house.
    The moment Libby and Bernie had gone outside, they’d known they weren’t going anywhere, but they’d cleared the snow off the van and started it up, anyway. It had been a futile gesture. The wheels had spun around, digging deeper into the snow, and the windshield wipers hadn’t been able to keep up with the onslaught.
    Then they’d called Brandon and found out that even if they could get the van out and make it down the hill to the highway—which was extremely doubtful—there would be no place to go. A state of emergency had been declared for Westchester. All the roads were closed, and people were being told to stay off of them.
    â€œWe’re stuck,” Libby said, stating the obvious.
    â€œNo kidding,” Bernie replied.
    â€œThis is not good.”
    â€œWhy?” Bernie asked. “Just because we’re stuck in the house with a corpse and the person who made him one?”
    â€œThere’s that and the fact that whoever killed him is trying to pin the murders on us,” Libby countered.
    â€œI say it’s the entire family. Witness Perceval’s and Ralph’s whole ‘Oh my god, you’ve killed Monty’ scene and Lexus’s ‘Oh, the horror of it all’ after she revived.” Bernie bracketed the word revived with her fingers.
    Libby grimaced. “Yes. That was some of the worst acting I’ve seen since the Longely Playhouse rendition of Our Town . I mean, if you’re going to do something, do it right.”
    â€œWell, they did it right with Monty. I’ll give them that.”
    â€œMaybe they all killed him,” Libby said.
    â€œAn attractive thought, but I don’t think they trust each other enough to be able to coordinate something like that.”
    â€œAny chance it could have been an accident?” Libby asked.
    Bernie looked at her. “Yes, someone just happened to lose an explosive device, and by some quirk of fate, it ended up in the turkey. It happens every day.”
    â€œMaybe it was supposed to be a joke.”
    â€œIn other circumstances, I’d say that might be the case, but not in this one. All these people work with explosives. They know what they can do. If they wanted it to be a joke, they would have put something small in the turkey, not something that would blow off Field’s head.” Bernie stamped her feet up and down to keep the circulation going. “Just thinking about it makes me want a drink.”
    â€œMe too,” Libby said. “I bet Monty kept a really good liquor cabinet.”
    Bernie gave a wistful sigh. “A shot of decent brandy would be incredibly nice right now.”
    â€œYes, it would be,” Libby agreed, despite the fact that she usually didn’t drink. However, she was willing to make an exception in this case.
    Suddenly Bernie’s cell phone rang. Both women jumped at the noise. Bernie took it out of her pocket and looked at who was calling. She frowned.
    â€œIt’s Dad,” she said.
    â€œThat’s bad,” Libby replied. Their dad rarely made calls on his cell unless it was an emergency.
    Bernie