Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) Read Free

Tyler hadn’t been involved in the game, too?
    "I tried to get him to put the scout leader on the line and Zach hung up on me."
    "He hung up? You mean he hung up on his own mother after asking for money? "
    "Pretty much."
    "Do you think we should bring the boys home? Maybe this scout camp wasn't such a good idea. I don’t remember seeing any poker tables in the brochure."
    "I don't know, Leo."
    "We could have my mom come up early. She could watch Zach and Tyler while we are busy at the hospital."
    I stopped for a moment to consider this idea. The boys were old enough, they wouldn’t be too much work. It would work, but somehow I just felt better with our original plan.  I hated to ask Gwyn to change her plans. 
    "No, I don't want to put your mom to all that trouble."
    "No trouble at all. She'll be here for the baby anyway."
    "I know. Let me think about this for a little bit." I heard someone call to Leo in the background.
    "Betsy? I have to go now."
    "Sure."
    After making sure the pig was stable, I headed over to the town’s only newspaper, the Pecan Bayou Gazette.  I needed to talk to Rocky, the editor and my boss. I write a weekly helpful hints column for the Gazette titled The Happy Hinter . Rocky had emailed earlier telling me to come by to discuss a special assignment. Heaven knows what that would be.
    When I trudged out of the heat into the Gazette office, Rocky was leaned back in his desk chair relishing in its annoying squeak.
    "Well now, if it isn’t little Miss Ready to Pop." Rocky’s hair had been salt-and-pepper ever since I’d known him, and now it was turning to a silky shade of white. Still though, he had a full head of it which made him an object of desire among the town’s population of single women over fifty. He never got serious with any of the well-wishing casserole carriers—probably the result of three failed marriages—but he did appreciate the free food.
    Rocky’s son, Nicholas, a modern version of his father, was busy tapping away at a computer when I entered the Gazette office. Nicholas had Rocky’s good looks and did a heck of a job staying on top of the news. When Nicholas came into the family business he brought modern technology to a ticker tape newspaper office. Nicholas looked up briefly and nodded, never missing a keystroke. 
    I wasn’t surprised to see my father, Judd Kelsey, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. This was a familiar tableau, repeated over decades. The friendship between Rocky and my dad was a true love-hate relationship. They were old fishing buddies and from the same generation, but on opposite sides of the political spectrum. When it came to the local crime scene they were adversaries—my dad, a lifelong policeman, was out to arrest the bad guy, and Rocky was out to get in my dad’s way covering the story. After Rocky’s near brush with death last year, the two men, realizing time is precious, had grown even closer.
    "Have a seat, Betsy. You look hot. I was just finishing up with ol’ Clark Kent here." 
    My dad pulled out a chair for me and then turned back to Rocky. "So, you haven’t heard anything at all about the guy?"
    I gently lowered myself down into the chair feeling like a hot air balloon coming in for a landing.
    "Not a thing," Rocky answered. "I didn’t even know he was missing. Sad about him losing his wife and all. Maybe it had something to do with that. Have you checked with his mother-in-law? Is she still around?"
    "In the nursing home. I don't think she'd be much help,"  Judd said.
    Rocky scratched his head. "I thought he was retiring. What about his kids?"
    Judd nodded. "They all live out of state now and none of them have heard from him."
    "Maybe he got in his car to drive off into the sunset and forgot to charge his cell phone."
    "You’re probably right. I’m just following up for one of his old poker buddies. He probably owes him money."
    "I think we all have someone out there like that," Rocky said. My father pushed