Free Bed & Breakfast Bedlam (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 1) by Abby L. Vandiver

her elbows
on the table. “Well do you think any of that was useful information?” she asked
me.
    “Any of what?”
    “Any of what Viola Rose said. Sometimes
it’s the most innocuous things that reveal the murderer.”
    I let my eyes drift upward.
    Nothing had been revealed to me.
    “I think what happened to her happened
along the route she took to jog.”
    “What did happen to her?” I asked.
    “In due time. I’ll tell you in due time.”
    Fine. Moving on.
    “I thought we were going to make a suspect
list,” I said instead.
    “Oh, right,” she said. She pulled out her
pencil and pad.  “Who we got?” She licked the granite tip.
    “Uhm . . .” I gazed out of the window.
“The Sheriff thinks it may have been Renmar.” I shook my head. “But that was
just him.” I didn’t want to insult her by her thinking I agreed with the
sheriff that her daughter poisoned Gemma.
    She licked the tip of the pencil again, I
guessed for good measure. “Renmar Colquett.”
    “Are you putting her on our suspects
list?”
    “Sure am.”
    “Why?” I had to chuckle. “She’s your
daughter.”
    “Doesn’t mean she’s not a murderer.
Renmar’s got a mean streak in her. And she’d kill to keep her recipes secret.
You heard Viola Rose, Gemma Burke wanted Renmar’s bouillabaisse recipe.” Miss
Vivee licked her lips. “Renmar rather give up her left arm than divulge her
recipes.  And her bouillabaisse is famous. It’s won awards.”
    “Yeah, I know about her being protective.”
I laughed. “She said that if she told me what she put in her fruit bowl, she’d
have to kill me.”
    “See what I mean.”
    “I can’t believe you’d put her down.”
    “You think she’s protective about that
fruit concoction, it’s nothing compared to her bouillabaisse.”
    “But you said that the murder didn’t
happen at the Maypop.”
    “It didn’t.”
    “Wasn’t Renmar there all day?”
    “Nope.” She said. She picked up her cup of
coffee and took a sip. “She went out early. Stayed a couple of hours. Came back
with Oliver. The two of them had their heads together about something.”
    “The murder?”
    “It’s possible.”
    “They were acting strange when the Sheriff
was there.”
    “Yep. And Renmar had Oliver dump that pot
of bouillabaisse. That’s why she told Sheriff Haynes there wasn’t any.”
    “But if the bouillabaisse didn’t kill
Gemma, why would Renmar and Oliver get rid of it?”
    “I don’t know. That’s why her name is
going on the list.”
    “Then what about Oliver?” I asked. “He and
Renmar may be accomplices. He is pretty shady guy with all of his ‘lady
friends’.”
    Miss Vivee shook her head. “Not Oliver.
He’s practically family.”
    “Renmar is family and her name is
on your list.” I pointed to her “detective notebook,” every page blank save for
the lone sheet that had the name of her daughter on it.
    “I know Oliver,” she said taking another
sip of the cold coffee and swallowing. “He is a gentle soul. Wouldn’t hurt a
fly. He and Brie had a thing once upon a time. And the only mischief I’ve ever
known him to get into is what Renmar puts him up to. Then you know he and Hazel
Cobb are related and Renmar and Hazel are related. So that makes him family.
He’s not the murderer”
    “Renmar and Oliver? They’re related to
Hazel Cobb?”
    “Yes.”
    I didn’t say anything and I guess she
must’ve seen by the look on my face that I was having problems with putting
that genealogy together.
    “Oliver’s great-great-great – I hope I put
enough greats in there – grandfather is Hazel Cobb’s great-great-great
grandfather on the slavery side. And Bay’s father, Renmar’s husband, Louis, was
Hazel’s cousin.”
    “Bay’s father is Hazel’s cousin on . . .
On the slavery side?”
    “No,” she said and slowly wiped her mouth
with the napkin and then pressed it out on her lap. She met me eye to eye. “You
know, sometimes your lack of understanding is just