Free A Lonely Way to Die: A Utah O'Brien Mystery Novel (Minnesota Mysteries Series Book 2) by Jonni Good Page B

change in tone startled me.
    “When is Gavril Constantin coming to pick up the kids? You’re going to bring him over here, aren’t you?”
    She was acting like a school girl with overpriced tickets for the latest boy band.
    “His wife just died,” I reminded her.
    “So? That doesn’t mean I can’t look, does it? Besides, they’re getting a divorce. Everybody knows that. And did you see those tats? He sings like the devil—but I probably shouldn’t say that, what with all the gospel songs. Say—you don’t think he did it, do you?”
    “What? Kill his wife? He couldn’t. He was in Europe all week. He was on a plane, flying home, when the sheriff called him. I think that’s a pretty good alibi.”
    “Yeah, I guess. Conrad was here yesterday, too. Maybe he did it.”
    I smiled, and shook my head. “Did anything else happen that was unusual, maybe even earlier in the day?”
    Angie looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, remembering. “We did get a customer that I never saw before. He had real money, and tried to order an Elmerburger, but I don’t keep the Limburger cheese on hand anymore. There just aren’t enough orders for Elmerburgers, since the economy tanked.”
    I waited to see if she had anything more about the stranger that might pertain to my case, but she wandered off and started to polish the counter with her rag.
     
    I turned to Pete and said, “You’re one of the volunteers who help out with school athletics, aren’t you?”
    “Sure.”
    “Do you know Carol Kramer’s husband? Harold Kramer? I only see him when we go to the high school ballgames. He’s pretty active with the school sports, isn’t he?”
    Pete looked down at his coffee and shook his head. “Don’t know much about the man. He’s nuts about hockey, I do know that. My Marcia got pretty close to Carol Kramer, from being on church committees. She didn’t think much of the man.”
    “Is he abusive?”
    “Not to the kids, as far as I can tell, but the wife—he wouldn’t hit her, I don’t think. He’s a small man, in more ways than one, but he does know how to use that mouth of his. He came to the church picnic out in the park last year, just so he could tell his wife how stupid she was in front of her friends. I was surprised she stayed, but I suppose she’s used to it. It’s not the way to treat somebody, in my opinion. My Rita was there, she could tell you.”
    Angie said. “I can’t imagine putting up with that.”
    “Maybe she puts up with it for her two sons,” I said, but I couldn’t understand it, either.
    She said, “You don’t think Harold did it, do you? Why would he kill that author lady?”
    I hadn’t actually considered that possibility. “No, I don’t suppose. From what Pete was saying, it doesn’t sound like Harold’s style, anyway.” I turned towards Pete and said, “Do you remember when Carol Kramer got mad at Gwyneth Price?”
    “I do, actually, and I was plumb happy about it. Carol would go off to the city and come back with all these stories about what new thing Gwyneth Price had in her house, what kind of fancy restaurant Gwyneth Price took her to. She’d tell all the ladies at church, and then my Marcia would come home and want all that stuff in our house, too. When Carol stopped visiting Gwyneth, it saved me a lot of money.”
    “Did she say what caused the rift?”
    He shrugged and shook his head.
    “Did she ever tell you that Gwyneth was writing books?”
    He shook his head again.
    “Do you remember when Carol Kramer’s little brother died? Was there ever any talk around town about it being anything other than an accident?”
    He was shocked by the idea. “Of course not. Losing that little boy just about killed Carol’s mother, from the grief. And poor little Emma, she was there, too, but she was too young to know what was happening. The kids were only about three or four years old. Mildred was next door and heard the screams. She told my Marcia about the accident so