Read Online Murder at Moot Point by Marlys Millhiser - Free Book Online

refined sugar or meat. Bird lady Clara thinks Frank walked the beach clear to Chinook to eat hot beef sandwiches with mashed potatoes and gravy. Jack thinks he did it to ogle sweet young things. Clara doesn’t like Michael. His pictures are strange. He’s definitely a Grape-Nut. Georgette hated him.”
    â€œWait a minute.” His full attention returned to her from the sports news. “Who told you this?”
    â€œGladys from the Scandia. But she didn’t tell me why. But Paige said that Georgie was a busybody and got on some people’s nerves. Maybe Michael’s. Maybe Paige’s.”
    â€œHold it right there.” He came around to her side of the table and switched off the TV. Standing behind her chair, he rocked on his feet so hard the floor shook. “Paige Magill didn’t tell me that about Mrs. Glick. And Gladys Bergkvist didn’t even mention this Michael. Not to me.”
    â€œNobody’s going to offer up information to you, you’re the law. You’re the sheriff investigating a murder in their tiny village. They’re confused and scared. Don’t know what they might say that could incriminate them even if they’re innocent.”
    â€œI’ve known most of them for years. Most of them voted for me.”
    â€œThat was before a little old lady was shot to death practically in their front yards. Get real.”
    â€œYou’re talking to me. And you’re a stranger.”
    â€œDid you wine them and dine them and console them? You admit you think they’re all Grape-Nuts.” Why was he playing dumb with her?
    â€œI have to feed you, you don’t have a car. Now I want to hear everything you learned today, lady. I don’t want you withholding one stray thought. You listening to me?”
    Charlie gave him a second-by-second re-creation of her afternoon leaving out no detail and making it as boring as possible. She even included the wonderful messages on the T-shirts Jack offered for sale at the Earth Spirit.
    The sheriff had taken the chair beside her and was showing signs of drowsiness when she, lifting the wine bottle they’d emptied between them, wrapped up her discourse with, “What’s all the gunk left on the bottom of the bottle? Wait, I know, don’t tell me, that’s the—”
    â€œStructure. See, our vineyards are young, our vintners still learning the soil and climate. But more and more often now you pick up a bottle of the local stuff and it blows you aaa-way.”
    He leaned too close and Charlie drew back. “How many wives have you gone through, Wes?”
    â€œThree too many. And three divorces. And never again do I get into that.”
    â€œGood plan. Just cooking for you would be an experience.”
    He grunted. “Would you believe my last wife wouldn’t even cook? Big-deal career woman.”
    â€œI can believe. How many kids, three?”
    â€œHow’d you know? One by the first, two by the second. But no more. Cops shouldn’t marry.”
    He was leaning again. When this man leaned it was like Mount St. Helens about to tip over. Charlie slid out the other side of her chair. “How did Frank explain his wife’s riding her bike at night?”
    â€œThey had a fight.”
    â€œYour kids live with their mothers?”
    â€œI pay support for two of them. Oldest, I can’t deal with.”
    â€œWell, I deal with and support one. If you’ll excuse me,” Charlie grabbed the last of the cherries and headed for the telephone.
    â€œWhat’s going on down there? I told Grandma you’d better have that cat in the shelter by now.” Charlie could hear a rattling sound in the background. “Is that the cat or Doug?”
    â€œOh, Mom, you should see him. He’s cracking me up. He’s sticking his cold wet little nose into my neck.” She squealed and the rattle deepened. That was the cat.
    â€œTell her you and the cat