Stuck on Murder Read Free Page B

without a broader client base?”
    Brenna opened her mouth to protest, but the mayor spoke over her. “Now, here’s what you need to tell him. He should consider selling half of his property around the lake to the town, at market value, of course. Then if he would consent to spearheading the campaign to bring tourists and new homeowners to Morse Point, why, that would be the cherry on top. He’s our biggest celebrity, after all; he could bring them in by the busload.”
    “Spearhead the campaign?” Brenna repeated dully. “Have you discussed this with Nate?”
    Mayor Ripley gave her a pained look, and Brenna gathered that he had and it had not gone well.
    “You can do this,” the mayor insisted. “It’s quite simple; just tell him what I told you. Now, I’ll be back tomorrow to hear about your progress.”
    “Tomorrow?” Brenna repeated. “But I haven’t—”
    “Time is money,” he said, interrupting her again. “Speaking of which, your class is waiting for you.”
    Brenna looked through the window and saw her class still watching them. The Porter sisters were craning their necks, each trying to be taller than the other without actually rising out of her seat, while Cynthia Ripley was glaring at her. Lovely.
    When she turned back, Mayor Ripley was gone, leaving her feeling as flattened as a decoupage cutout under a brayer.
     
     
    Brenna spent the rest of the class distracted and under the scrutinizing eye of Cynthia Ripley. She hoped Mayor Ripley had told his wife why he wanted to talk to her; otherwise she could only imagine what Cynthia must be thinking. Judging by her scowl, the mayor had not enlightened her.
    The Porter sisters had tried to find out what the mayor wanted, but Brenna dodged their queries by giving a long-winded monologue on how important it was to use a sharp pair of cutting scissors. She showed them how to check that the points matched up, and by the time she’d finished her cutting demonstration, most of the class wore glazed expressions and seemed quite happy to call it a night.
    “I can’t believe he asked you to do that.” Tenley was indignant on her behalf.
    Brenna shrugged. She put the half-finished birdhouses on a shelf to dry while Tenley packed up the scissors, brayers, and glue.
    “What are you going to do?” Tenley asked.
    “I don’t know,” she said. “You know the mayor better than I do. How annoying will he be if I don’t do this?”
    Tenley rolled her eyes.
    “That bad?” Brenna asked.
    She nodded. “Let’s put it this way: He was elected mayor because he literally went door to door and badg ered everyone to vote for him. Frankly, we elected him to shut him up.”
    “Wonderful. So, I have to choose between alienating the mayor or my landlord.” She gathered up the paper cutouts and stored them in a box for the next class.
    “Looks like it,” Tenley agreed.
    “Well, there’s only one way to settle it,” Brenna said. She fished a coin out of her jean pocket and said, “Heads, I talk to Nate. Tails, I blow off the mayor.”
    “The coin toss!” Tenley laughed. “I haven’t thought of that in years. We used to use that to decide whether to date someone or not.”
    “It worked then,” Brenna pointed out. “Remember that cute frat boy who asked you out and you couldn’t decide? The coin said tails and you said no, and then we found out he had a pregnant girlfriend.”
    “Oh yeah, what a creep,” Tenley said with a shudder. “And when you flipped it, it said heads and you dated James for four years.” Brenna made a face and Tenley said, “Oh, bad example. Sorry.”
    Brenna put the quarter on her thumb and flipped it. It landed on the table with a thunk and a spin and finally wobbled onto its side.
    Tenley leaned over it. “Heads. Looks like you have a date.”

Chapter 3

    Late in his life, modern artist Henri Matisse made paper cuttings an integral part of his work.
    Brenna had not done any baking since she’d felt the need for a batch of