Comic Sans Murder
Page 24
“Tell me what he’s up to.”
“Not now, but let’s just say Eloise MacPherson’s death is more of a mystery than Creighton wants us to think.”
“Sarah made up the séance, right?”
“Of course, but still . . .”
“I want to hear more.”
“I’ll let you know if I can let you know. Hey, I’m sorry you were hurt, but you really did solve the murders. You called me, but next time, you need to wait for me.”
“I understand. I really do. So, Dillon and Brenda can go back to Nebraska? They’ll be glad,” I said.
“Yes, to leave the beauty of our mountains and starry skies for Nebraska is everyone’s dream,” Jodie said.
I tried not to smile because it hurt too much.
“Take care of yourself, Clare,” Jodie said.
“You too.” I motioned with my head toward the station. Adal was also inside, waiting for Jodie.
“Will do,” she said.
“Jodie, did you have any idea that Sarah was the killer?” I asked.
“I suspected everybody, but . . . Well, I just should have remembered high school personalities more. Sure, we’ve grown up, but Sarah hasn’t changed all that much. Image, money, those things are still important to her. I didn’t realize how important or how she hadn’t matured past that yet, apparently.”
“Maybe none of us really changes,” I said.
Jodie blinked at me. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
A flash of light behind the station’s doors caught my attention. Creighton stood there, looking out, watching us—or watching something. When he saw me see him, he turned away and walked back inside. I wondered what was going to happen to him now.
I was sure Jodie would tell me. Tomorrow. Or the next day.
“Maybe he’s a good cop, just like everyone always thought he would be,” I said.
“Maybe. Good night, Clare.” She turned and walked toward the station.
I walked toward Nathan, Chester, Seth, and Marion as Sarah’s words rang in my head. She had mocked me for never doing anything with my career other than working at The Rescued Word.
“She who gets the last mock . . . ,” I said under my breath as I walked toward the people who made my life almost too perfect to care.
It didn’t matter that in high school I’d never been voted “most likely” to do anything. I had succeeded. I loved my job, my friends, my family. It was good to live and work amid good, kind people, some of whom also rescued words. It was very good.
Maybe, even, it was the best.
Afterword
I made up the letter from Bob Hope. However, it was based on a letter I found online that’d he’d written to Colonel Tom Parker. I also discovered that Mr. Hope might have owned one of the original Hoovens. Maybe my fictional letter wasn’t too much of a stretch. Thanks for the memories, Mr. Hope.
Photo © 2009 Charlie Ferrell
Paige Shelton is the New York Times bestselling author of Bookman Dead Style and To Helvetica and Back in the Dangerous Type Mystery series. She also pens the Farmers’ Market Mysteries, including Bushel Full of Murder and Merry Market Murder, and the Country Cooking School Mysteries, including If Onions Could Spring Leeks and If Catfish Had Nine Lives. Paige Shelton has lived in a bunch of places but currently resides in Arizona with her husband. For more information, see her Web site: paigeshelton.com.
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