Cake and Taxes: A Yellow Rose Cozy Mystery (Yellow Rose Mystery Series Book 2) Read Free Page B
Author: K. P. Hilton
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Animals, cozy, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Amateur Sleuths
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clicking various menu selections on the web site. “Maybe we can find out why these figures have risen so much in the past three years.”
Betty shook her head again. “That's confidential information. Only Ned and the appraisal district know the specifics.”
Martin arched an eyebrow at Betty.
“I know. I could ask Ned directly and he might tell me. But I'm not sure I want to go that route since I've already made a statement that could tie him to Marge's death.”
“Point taken,” Martin replied.
“I'm worried about Tom, though. I went over and visited him yesterday.”
“How'd that go?”
“Overall okay, all things considered. He was quiet and withdrawn. Someone came by to discuss funeral arrangements so I didn't stay long. I'm guessing he's still in shock. He said something about taking a trip which made no sense. Also...”
“Yes?” Martin prompted.
Betty rubbed her temples. “Well, I hate to jump to conclusions. But in murder investigations, the person the police usually start with is the husband.”
“So you think Tom may be thinking about leaving town to avoid talking with them?”
“No. Something else is going on. Tom's a kind and gentle soul. I can't believe he'd ever harm anyone, including Marge. Much less kill her.”
“He could have hired someone else do it.”
Betty shook her head. “Not Tom. I just can't see it.”
“Who do you think might have done it, then?”
“Almost anyone who owned a business here in the county, I suppose. Appraisers and tax collectors aren't the most popular people in the word. Especially in a soft economy.” Betty sighed. “It's a mystery.”
Martin checked his watch. “Have to go. Got a report to finish for a client. Need to email it by this evening.”
Betty stood as Martin repacked his laptop. “Thanks for the help, Martin. I'll give you a call later after we close.”
“Looking forward to it,” Martin replied.
Betty walked over to the refrigerator. “Hey, I pulled out a pair of cupcakes earlier but now one's gone. What happened to the other one?”
“It's a mystery,” Martin said, heading out and nibbling on his second snack of the day.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Martin was working on the daily crossword puzzle from his newspaper when his phone rang. Like Betty, he kept a land line telephone in his home in case of emergencies such as a lost cell phone or a local cell tower outage.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Martin Lane speaking, can I help you?” he asked, trying to get the person on the other line to commit to a conversation or at least a greeting.
“You don’t fool me for a second. People like me can sniff an outsider like you from miles away.”
“Yeah, I’m a regular fish out of water,” Martin said. “Who is this?”
The man on the other end paused again.
“Meet me,” the husky voice exhaled. “Find me in Yellow Rose Park. You can’t afford to avoid me any longer, Martin Lane.”
Avoid him? Martin thought. He hadn't the slightest clue who the guy was. A second later, the line went dead, leaving him with a decision to make.
* * *
The morning heat bore down on Martin's back. Betty didn’t understand why he insisted on wearing collared polo shirts and slacks in this brutal unrelenting swelter. A part of it he chocked up to shame. Shame in his dirt poor lower working class upbringing. Martin's father didn’t wear a collar to work, and he didn’t want to be anything like his old man. Had grown his hair long, too. Couldn’t stand the thought of looking like a working class stiff. It was less noticeable to most anyone else, and he buzzed down most of it when he'd enlisted in the Army. The last thing he wanted was someone walking on egg shells on his account.
Martin's eyes panned across the freshly manicured grass and well maintained pathways crowded with small children. A hundred feet
Betty shook her head again. “That's confidential information. Only Ned and the appraisal district know the specifics.”
Martin arched an eyebrow at Betty.
“I know. I could ask Ned directly and he might tell me. But I'm not sure I want to go that route since I've already made a statement that could tie him to Marge's death.”
“Point taken,” Martin replied.
“I'm worried about Tom, though. I went over and visited him yesterday.”
“How'd that go?”
“Overall okay, all things considered. He was quiet and withdrawn. Someone came by to discuss funeral arrangements so I didn't stay long. I'm guessing he's still in shock. He said something about taking a trip which made no sense. Also...”
“Yes?” Martin prompted.
Betty rubbed her temples. “Well, I hate to jump to conclusions. But in murder investigations, the person the police usually start with is the husband.”
“So you think Tom may be thinking about leaving town to avoid talking with them?”
“No. Something else is going on. Tom's a kind and gentle soul. I can't believe he'd ever harm anyone, including Marge. Much less kill her.”
“He could have hired someone else do it.”
Betty shook her head. “Not Tom. I just can't see it.”
“Who do you think might have done it, then?”
“Almost anyone who owned a business here in the county, I suppose. Appraisers and tax collectors aren't the most popular people in the word. Especially in a soft economy.” Betty sighed. “It's a mystery.”
Martin checked his watch. “Have to go. Got a report to finish for a client. Need to email it by this evening.”
Betty stood as Martin repacked his laptop. “Thanks for the help, Martin. I'll give you a call later after we close.”
“Looking forward to it,” Martin replied.
Betty walked over to the refrigerator. “Hey, I pulled out a pair of cupcakes earlier but now one's gone. What happened to the other one?”
“It's a mystery,” Martin said, heading out and nibbling on his second snack of the day.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Martin was working on the daily crossword puzzle from his newspaper when his phone rang. Like Betty, he kept a land line telephone in his home in case of emergencies such as a lost cell phone or a local cell tower outage.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Martin Lane speaking, can I help you?” he asked, trying to get the person on the other line to commit to a conversation or at least a greeting.
“You don’t fool me for a second. People like me can sniff an outsider like you from miles away.”
“Yeah, I’m a regular fish out of water,” Martin said. “Who is this?”
The man on the other end paused again.
“Meet me,” the husky voice exhaled. “Find me in Yellow Rose Park. You can’t afford to avoid me any longer, Martin Lane.”
Avoid him? Martin thought. He hadn't the slightest clue who the guy was. A second later, the line went dead, leaving him with a decision to make.
* * *
The morning heat bore down on Martin's back. Betty didn’t understand why he insisted on wearing collared polo shirts and slacks in this brutal unrelenting swelter. A part of it he chocked up to shame. Shame in his dirt poor lower working class upbringing. Martin's father didn’t wear a collar to work, and he didn’t want to be anything like his old man. Had grown his hair long, too. Couldn’t stand the thought of looking like a working class stiff. It was less noticeable to most anyone else, and he buzzed down most of it when he'd enlisted in the Army. The last thing he wanted was someone walking on egg shells on his account.
Martin's eyes panned across the freshly manicured grass and well maintained pathways crowded with small children. A hundred feet
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