Free A Broth of Betrayal by Connie Archer Page A

reached up to see if a hanging string might turn on a light. She stopped
     and stood still for a moment, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. A thin sliver
     of daylight was visible at the other end of the cellar. It was the opening of a hatch
     to the backyard. Next to that she could make out the shape of a rough workbench.
    “Maggie. Please. Where are you?” She took the last step and reached the bottom. The
     air moved near her cheek. Instinctively she knew someone was close by. Elizabeth turned
     her head. A cloth was pressed forcefully against her face. She struggled to breathe.
     Terrified, her heart racing, she lashed out to free herself from the firm hands gripping
     her. She was falling. Her brain was going numb. She felt her body weaken and collapse
     as she finally lost consciousness.
    * * * 
    T HE NEWS OF Harry’s death had spread like wildfire throughout Snowflake. It seemed appropriate
     that everyone, not just those involved with Harry and the demonstration, but all the
     restaurant’s regulars and concerned citizens, should gather at the Spoonful throughout
     the day. Unlike the anger and excitement of the demonstration, this was a quiet group,
     shocked and numb, confused that anyone could have wanted to hurt Harry Hodges.
    Barry and Hank, both very upset, had held court all day, as townspeople stopped by,
     stayed for a time then quietly left. Jack joined them occasionally, while Lucky, Janie
     and Meg handled customers. As far as Lucky could tell, the summer visitors appeared
     oblivious to what had happened in their midst. From experience, she knew this wouldn’t
     last long.
    Finally she decided to close the Spoonful an hour earlier than usual and sent Janie
     and Meg home. Hank and Barry remained at their table. Jack seemed to be stronger now,
     but she thought that giving him an excuse to go home early and get some rest after
     his shock was the best thing to do. She had riffled through a stack of CDs and found
     a harp instrumental. She plugged it in hoping it might soothe their spirits.
    A loud knock came at the front door and everyone turned. Nate Edgerton stood outside
     on the threshold. Lucky walked over and unlocked the door for him. Nate entered without
     a word and sat at the table with the men. Without asking, Lucky poured an iced tea
     with a slice of lemon and brought it over to Nate.
    He looked up. “You read my mind. Thanks.”
    Everyone at the table looked expectantly at Nate as if he could explain Harry’s death
     to them. Nate shook his head. “There’s not much I can tell any of you. In fact, I’m
     here to ask a few questions myself.”
    “Now, Jack.” Nate pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. “I’m sorry to put you
     through this.” Nate was being very gentle with Jack. He had always looked up to the
     older man. “I’m just hoping there might be some little detail that would help me out.”
    “Not much to tell.” Jack shrugged. “I went over to see if my car was ready—that was
     right around one bell.”
    Nate paused with his pen over the notebook and looked at Lucky.
    “He means eight thirty,” Lucky offered.
    “The place was locked up, which was strange, ’cause Harry starts his day early. I
     banged on the door, thinking he might be in the office, but nobody came. So then I
     went down the alley. I figured I’d take my car and leave Harry a note. Maybe he had
     just stepped out for a minute. I knew he wouldn’t mind if I paid him later.”
    “Was that back window unlocked?”
    “Closed, but not locked. I wouldn’t have gone in like that, through the window, but
     I needed my car to drive over to Lincoln Falls. Had to get some supplies for the Spoonful.”
     Jack rubbed his forehead and took a shaky breath. “Harry had told me the car would
     be ready. I thought I could just grab my keys and catch up with him later to pay him.”
    “When did you talk to him?”
    “Oh, let’s see . . . musta been the day before the