Free Murder Of A Snake In The Grass by Denise Swanson

he’ll pick them up within the next hour or so.”
    “Great,” Skye said. “I really want them out of my house.”
    “Yeah, I really want ‘the stuffed animal’ out of my house, too. See you later.” Simon hung up.
    Skye stirred her tea. Too bad she didn’t use the loose kind. Maybe the leaves could have told her what she should do.
    She could do nothing about Luc right now. Justin and Frannie’s welfare came first. She put her cup in the sink and found the local newspaper. The entire front page of the
Scumble River Star
was filled with the schedule of the bicentennial events. The Pancake Race Breakfast was being held at nine o’clock in the high school parking lot.
    It was already eight fifteen, too late to get to the beach for her morning swim, but still early enough that she might snag a decent parking spot at the Pancake Race Breakfast if she left right away. With the school’s lot being used for the event, street spaces would be at a premium, and the Bel Air could not be slipped into any old small opening.
    She slid her feet into a pair of sandals, buckled a fanny pack around her waist, and put on some mascara and lipstick. It was supposed to be another hot day, so any additional makeup would be a waste of time.
    After putting the bags of toys on her front step, she headed for her car. Last spring, her father and Uncle Charliehad surprised her with the gift of a 1957 Chevy Bel Air convertible that Charlie had discovered rusting away in an old barn. Jed had spent the winter restoring it.
    The aqua monstrosity was hardly the vehicle that Skye had envisioned herself driving around town in, but there had been no way to turn down such a labor of love from the two men—even if the car did lack air conditioning, required the driver to manually raise and lower the top, and sported fins bigger than those on the shark in
Jaws
.
    People were just starting to arrive for the Pancake Race Breakfast when Skye parked the Bel Air on the street in front of Scumble River High. She got out, leaving the top down. As she had pointed out to Simon, there was really no use locking a convertible as old as this one.
    The school’s parking lot was set up as if for a track meet, but within the inner circle were tables and chairs. Along the left side, in the grass, serving stations had been set up. Each one had a cook, a griddle, and someone to take the ticket and hand over the plate of food.
    Along the right side, on the sidewalk in front of the building, were booths where bets could be placed on the various racing teams. There were six squads made up of four contestants each. The object of the competition was to carry a pancake on a spatula around the track without dropping it. If the racer dropped the flapjack, he had to eat it before starting over. If he made a successful circuit, the pancake was handed over to the next team member, who repeated the process. The first squad whose racers all completed the course would win.
    Skye shaded her eyes with her hand and inspected the various clusters of people milling around the asphalt. She didn’t think Frannie and Justin would be members of any of the race teams, and it surprised her to see them behind one of the food stations. They didn’t tend to be joiners.
    In the few minutes it had taken her to locate the teens, the crowd had swollen, and lines were already forming. Frannieand Justin’s station was swamped. There was no way she could talk to them until the rush died down.
    The last thing she wanted was something to eat, but since she had to hang around anyway, it would probably look less conspicuous if she placed a few bets. She opened her fanny pack and took out her wallet. All she had was a five and seven singles. Spending that twenty on those bullies yesterday had used up most of her cash. She would need to stop by the bank sometime this morning before it closed at one o’clock.
    “Skye, over here.”
    She walked toward the familiar voice. “Trixie, where are