Stake & Eggs Read Free Page B

smoldering tire fire behind Cragun’s Auto.”
    “We’ve got a dead guy here,” Suzanne blurted out. “My dead guy trumps your jackknife
     and everything else.”
    There was a sharp intake of breath. “Seriously?” said Molly.
    “Ben Busacker pitched off his snowmobile,” Suzanne explained. “Behind the Cackleberry
     Club.”
    “And lost his head,” Toni muttered, her voice constricted, her eyes wide with fright.
    “What was that?” Molly asked. “I didn’t quite…”
    “Never mind,” said Suzanne. “Just send Sheriff Doogie over here as fast as you possibly
     can.” She hung up the phone and gazed into the stunned faces of Toni and Petra. Before
     they could say anything more, she sat down hard in a chair and touched a hand to her
     stomach. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around what she’d seen out there in the
     blizzard.
    “Honey, are you okay?” asked Petra. Concern lit her face as she bent down toward Suzanne.
    “No,” said Suzanne. “Not really.”
    “It must have been an awful sight,” said Petra. “I can’t imagine. Can I get you some
     tea or anything? Water?”
    “No, thanks,” said Suzanne.
    Petra straightened up and exchanged glances with Tony. They both knew that Suzanne
     tended to take on too much. And took it all to heart. On the other hand, they also
     knew what a tough cookie their friend was.
    “Now what?” asked Petra.
    “Well,” said Suzanne slowly, “we can’t exactly pack up and go home.”
    “I don’t know if this is appropriate right now,” said Toni, “given the…” She crooked
     her head toward the back door. “You know, what happened out there and all. But we’ve
     got corn chowder and blueberry muffins left over,” she added slowly. “Maybe we could
     warm everything up and wait for Doogie in the Knitting Nest?”
    “Cozy in,” suggested Petra.
    Suzanne cocked an eye at them. After what she’d just seen, cozy didn’t quite cut it.
    Petra looked suddenly sheepish. “I mean…as cozy as we can get with a dead guy lying
     out back?”
    Toni peered nervously out the window. “A dead guy who’s probably turning into a popsicle
     even as we speak.”
    “Let’s do that,” said Suzanne, making a decision. “Let’s stay calm and hunker down
     in the Knitting Nest.” The Knitting Nest was a small shop adjacent to the Cackleberry
     Club café, right next to their Book Nook. The Knitting Nest was best because it boasted
     comfy rump-sprung chairs and a space heater. It was also cheery, with hundreds of
     skeins of gorgeous yarn tucked into virtually every corner, plus Petra’s shawls, wraps,
     and sweaters displayed on the walls.
    “I’ll heat the soup,” Petra offered, grabbing a sauce pan from her overhead rack.
    “Thank you,” said Suzanne. She suddenly thought of herdogs, Baxter and Scruff, who’d need tending to. She’d have to make a quick call to
     her neighbor, Mrs. Wendorf, and ask her to feed her pups and let them out into the
     backyard.
    Toni remained glued to the kitchen window, eyes darting nervously. “You don’t suppose…”
    “Don’t say it,” said Suzanne. She knew how Toni’s mind worked.
    “Don’t say what?” asked Petra.
    “Coyotes,” Toni said in a stage whisper.
    “There,” said Suzanne, throwing up her hands, “she said it.”
    “What if they come sneaking around?” asked Toni. “The little pests have been all over
     the place this winter.”
    “They won’t,” Suzanne promised.
They better not.
    But Toni had a one-track mind and a fascination with the macabre. “I heard this awful
     story about an old lady who died all by herself at home. And her…”
    “Not the cat story!” Petra shrieked.
    “Yes!” said Toni. “The cat! And it…”
    “Never happened,” Suzanne interrupted. “That tale’s an urban myth. Just like the choking
     Doberman story.” But deep inside, she couldn’t help but give a little shudder.
    T HEY were halfway through their fairly somber meal of chowder and