Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6)

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

Book: Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) Read Free
Author: Teresa Trent
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himself off the wall and turned towards me.
    "How are you feeling today darlin’?"
    "I’m hot, but I guess I’ll survive." Though the thermometer outside read 96, it felt like more than 100. Dogs that normally ran around lay panting in the cool grass. The ice cream truck kept running out of Nutty Buddies and the local pool was overflowing with splashing children.
    I shifted my gaze to Rocky. "So, you have a big assignment for me?"
    "I had myself an epiphany of inspiration, and you are the woman for the job. I want to put you on it." I began to wonder if Rocky realized I would be taking some time off for the baby.
    "An epiphany of inspiration? Isn’t that redundant?" Nicholas looked up from his keyboard, one eyebrow raised.
    "Your daddy is the media," my father told Nicholas. "Redundancy is his business."
    Rocky scowled at him and then turned his attention back to me. "I suppose you’ve heard about the open seat on the city council?"
    "I saw it in the paper."
    "It’s a true blessing to our readership. Here we are in the middle of a dull and boring news season, and we fall upon a closely contested city council race. If we’re lucky, there’ll be some mudslinging going on."
    "And somehow this involves me?" I asked, my hand resting on my now moving belly.
    "Why yes, it does, my Happy Hinter. We’re going to have ourselves a political grill-off. Everybody knows that you can really judge a man by how he grills, and what he grills. It’s a perfect combination of summertime tradition and hard-hitting politics."
    "So, you want me to grill the candidates on grilling?" I asked. My father let out a laugh.
    "Yes!" Rocky replied. "Get everything you can—secret recipes, as well as any grilling techniques you can pry out of them. Emphasize that this is their opportunity to serve their future constituents. Why, this could be the decision-maker for the voters of Pecan Bayou. I can’t think of a more perfect way to rate our candidates. I mean seriously, would you vote for a man who chooses to grill some sort of namby-pamby health conscious chicken? Or would you vote for a man who will grill up a beefy ribeye and not give a hoot about that nasty ol' cholesterol?"
    I was pretty sure the heat had infiltrated Rocky’s thought processes.
    "I don’t know Rocky. I planned on wrapping up the column for a couple of months…"
    "I know. You’re having a baby. Just this one last writing assignment before you go. Once you have the recipes, you could knock it out in ten minutes. Just email that sucker over here to me at the Gazette and you can go off and put your feet in the stirrups and have that baby." Such a polite thing to say.
    "I think it’s a great idea," my father chimed in, even though nobody asked his opinion. Of course, that never stopped him before.
    "What do you think, Nicholas?" Rocky asked.
    Nicholas kept typing, his gaze never leaving the screen. "Huh?" Clearly, Nicholas was no longer part of the conversation.
    I sighed, picked up a file off the desk next to me and started fanning myself. Why did it feel like the heat was on wherever I went?
    "Come on Betsy. It’ll help get your mind off the baby," Rocky said. As if that could happen.
    I rolled my eyes and then gave in. "Okay, okay I’ll do it, but then that’s it. I am on maternity leave."
    I slapped down the file and pulled myself up out of the chair. I wobbled slightly and felt Rocky and my dad’s hands at my elbows. I shook them off. "I’m fine." They let go and stepped back out of hitting range. "So who are the two candidates?"
    "The first man to put his hat in the ring is the one and only Baxter Digby," Rocky offered.
    
   
Baxter Digby was one of Pecan Bayou’s most successful real estate agents. Half the houses on our pecan tree lined streets had been sold by him. His smiling face was on so many front yard signs that small children could recognize him in the supermarket.
    Somehow, the man always struck me as being just a little too good-looking. I

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