Back Bake Sale Murder
Chapters (29)
  1. Cover
  2. MURDER IN THE KITCHEN
  3. Bake Sale Murder
  4. Contents
  5. Chapter 1
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Chapter 3
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Chapter 7
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Chapter 9
  14. Chapter 10
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12
  17. Chapter 13
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15
  20. Chapter 16
  21. Chapter 17
  22. Chapter 18
  23. Chapter 19
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21
  26. Chapter 22
  27. Prologue
  28. Chapter 1
  29. Copyright

“I used to be a social worker. I’ve seen this sort of thing more times than I can say.”

“What about Tommy? What’ll happen to him?” asked Lucy.

“Now that he’s out of the hospital his older brother will probably get temporary custody,” answered Bonnie.

“But Preston’s just a kid,” said Lucy. “How can he be expected to care for a mentally unstable person?”

“He’s eighteen, that makes him legally an adult.”

“Besides,” said Frankie. “Did you see Tommy? They’ve got him so drugged he could barely walk.”

“I can’t believe this,” said Lucy. She couldn’t imagine what sort of system would give an eighteen-year-old motorcycle maniac the responsibility of caring for an extremely fragile suicidal sibling. Leaving the others she walked down the street to the Stanton house and knocked on the door. Preston answered, opening the door only a few inches. He looked, she thought, meeting his dark eyes, like an animal that hadn’t decided whether to defend his den or flee.

“I just wanted you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, we’re right here. Just give me a call.”

“We’re fine.”

“Well, you never know what might come up,” said Lucy. “If you have any trouble I’ll be more than happy to help.”

“You’re that reporter, right?”

“I’m here as a neighbor, that’s all,” said Lucy. “A concerned neighbor.”

“A big nosy-body, you mean,” he said. “Well you can just mind your own business and leave us alone.”

“Okay,” said Lucy, backing away. “I was only trying to help.”

She didn’t know why she bothered to say it, she was talking to a closed door. She started down the street towards home, aware that it was getting late and she really ought to get to work. But first, she decided, since she was so close to the woods she might as well take a quick look and see if the homeless man had returned to his camp. Unwilling to trespass on the Stantons’ property she cut through the Cashmans’ yard. Nobody was out. Chris was probably giving Pear and Apple their one hundred percent organic breakfast or prepping them for one of the day’s activities.