The Candy Cane Cupcake Killer Read Free

and she was glad to have it there. She wasn’t that fond of crowds.
    They had gone only a couple of steps when Sam’s hand suddenly tightened on Phyllis’s arm, as if something were wrong. She glanced over at him and saw alarm on his rugged face.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked as her hands gripped tighter on the plastic container. She wasn’t sure why she did that. Instinct, she supposed. It wasn’t like somebody was going to come along and try to rip the cupcakes out of her hands.
    â€œSomething’s wrong with Barney,” Sam said.
    Phyllis looked at the carriage and saw that Barney McCrory was doubled over in the driver’s seat. He crouched there, bending forward for a couple of seconds, and then let go of the reins and crumpled into a heap, half on the seat and half on the floorboard of the driver’s box.
    Without Barney’s firm hand to control them, the already skittish horses lunged toward the marching band.
    People in the crowd began to scream, which just spooked the team that much more.
    The tubas were bringing up the rear in the band, as usual, and the high school boys playing them must have realized something had gone wrong behind them. Several of the instruments let out strident blats as boys scrambled to get out of the way. More screams filled the air as the music stopped and the band members began to scatter.
    With his hand still clasped around her arm, Sam swung Phyllis around and said, “Come on!”
    She had no choice but to go with him as he ran toward the parking lot where they had left the pickup.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
    Sam had fished his keys out of his blue-jeans pocket with his other hand and pushed the button on the attached fob to unlock the pickup’s doors. As he threw the driver’s-side door open, he told Phyllis, “Get behind the wheel and go after that carriage!” He pressed the keys into her hand.
    â€œWhat?!”
    â€œWe’ve got to stop it before somebody gets hurt!” Sam said as he ran to the back of the truck. He climbed into the bed and added, “Come on, Phyllis!”
    Though it seemed crazy to her, she knew he was right about one thing: Somebody was going to get hurt if that runaway carriage wasn’t stopped. She slid the container of cupcakes across the seat and pulled herself behind the wheel.
    She wasn’t sure what Sam had in mind, but she cranked the pickup’s engine to life, threw it in gear, and wheeled out of the parking lot. The carriage was a block away, and the horses were picking up speed now that the marching band had cleared the street. The team weaved around one of the floats, causing the carriage to sway back and forth dangerously.
    â€œRun over those cones!” Sam shouted through the pickup’s back window.
    Phyllis stopped thinking about it and acted. She pushed the gas pedal down and the pickup leaped forward, crushing the plastic traffic cones under its wheels.

Chapter 2

    A few of the uniformed band members had started to come out into the middle of the street again to stare wide-eyed after the carriage that had nearly run over them. But they scurried out of the way again as Phyllis drove toward them.
    Actually, she wasn’t going very fast yet, but the pace already seemed breakneck to her. I’m not some . . . some Hollywood stunt driver, she thought. What sort of lunacy was going through Sam’s mind right now?
    She honked the horn to warn the drivers of the floats to pull over to the side of the street as much as they could. The pickup flew past them.
    Phyllis’s pulse pounded. She hoped she wouldn’t have a heart attack right here and now.
    A sharp rapping on the window beside her made her jump a little. Sam was trying to get her attention. She rolled the window down and called, “What?”
    He leaned down and said through the open window, “Pull up beside those horses and get as close as you