Eggs in a Casket (A Cackleberry Club Mystery) Read Free Page A

quickly cut to a more abridged version. “We were delivering flowers for the Sesquicentennial Celebration and just happened to find him that way.”
    “It’s Lester Drummond,” said Doogie. “Right?”
    “It certainly looks like him,” responded Draper. He inadvertently kicked a clod of earth with his toe and Suzanne flinched as it tumbled into the hole.
    “You’re positive Drummond’s dead?” asked Doogie. “He’s not drunk or doped or anything?”
    The notion startled Suzanne. “I think he’s dead. But I never . . .” She hesitated as a wave of guilt swept over her. Should she have done more?
Could
she have done more? Should she have clambered down into that grave and checked his respiration or pulse? Done CPR or chest compressions or something? It hadn’t occurred to her until this very second. Still, the notion of dropping down into that dank hole chilled her to the bone.
    “He’s deceased,” said Draper. He spoke with authority as he stepped closer to the grave and pointed. “You see how one side of his face is dark, almost a purplish red? That’s lividity.”
    “Lividity,” Doogie repeated. “That means his blood has settled. That it’s no longer circulating.”
    Draper bobbed his head, pleased that Doogie understood. “Correct. It’s a general indication that a person has been deceased for a number of hours.”
    “How many hours would you think in this case?” asked Doogie.
    Draper shrugged. “I’d be making a guesstimate, since I don’t have liver temp or anything. But I’d say at least two or three.”
    “I wonder if that’s what scared Missy away,” said Toni.
    Sheriff Doogie’s head jerked sideways, as if he’d been touched with a hot wire. “What’d you say?”
    Oh boy
, thought Suzanne.
Here we go.
She drew a deep breath for what
she knew was coming.
    Toni looked sheepish now, as if she wished she could take back her words.
    But Doogie wasn’t about to let it go. “Explain, please,” he said, waggling his fingers.
    Toni tried to piece together their story. “When Suzanne and I were driving into the cemetery . . . um, to deliver the flowers, we saw Missy Langston driving out. She was in an awful rush. Fact is, she almost smacked into us. So now I’m thinking she might have, you know, seen this?”
    “Is that true?” Doogie stared directly at Suzanne.
    “Yes,” said Suzanne. She knew she had to fess up, too. “We saw Missy back at that turn.” She made a quick gesture over her shoulder. “Where the stone sundial is nestled in those cedar trees. Missy practically sideswiped my car.” Suzanne fervently wished she had a reasonable explanation for why Missy had been fleeing the cemetery. Because, suddenly, their story seemed to be pointing toward Missy having some sort of involvement in Drummond’s death!
    “So she was in a rush,” said Doogie. “I wonder why?” He rocked back on his heels and stared off into the nearby woods, allowing his thoughts to percolate. Then he said, “Didn’t Missy and Lester Drummond go on a few dates together? Weren’t they kind of sweet on each other?”
    “No,” Suzanne said in a firm voice. “No way. Drummond kept making passes at Missy, asking her out. But she was definitely not interested.”
    “You’re sure about that?” asked Doogie.
    “Absolutely positive,” said Suzanne. And she was. She knew Missy had pretty much loathed Drummond. It wasn’t a particularly Christian attitude, to be sure. But Missy had confessed to her that Drummond made her skin crawl. Actually, he’d made Suzanne’s own skin crawl. There was just something about the man . . .
    Doogie gazed thoughtfully into the grave. “Well, something pretty nasty went down out here. Something or someone killed Drummond. And, from the way you describe your near-collision, whatever it was must have scared the pants off Missy, too.” He continued to mull over the strange circumstances. “I don’t think it takes a genius to assume an incident took