Dylan says, “Everything, including those flowers, is staying put for the moment. Admiral, will you let the mayor know he can take the show outside now?”
“Will do.” The Admiral heads to the stage, and then Dylan takes out his phone and starts taking pictures.
Pete leans down and whispers, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the sheriff because of the affair and all, but I saw some folks switch the name tags on those flowers. That’s how Tina ended up with the pink ones instead of Pattie. Probably doesn’t matter, but I figured you might notice the switch and wonder.”
The name tags are the least of my concern. “What affair are you talking about?”
“Tina’s.” Pete turns three shades of red. “I figured you knew. Tina gave him an ultimatum to leave his wife, or she was going to go public. If that isn’t a motive for attempted murder, I don’t know what is. I saw him switch the name tags too.”
My father has never married, so that’s not who Pete’s talking about. “Who was Tina having an affair with?”
Dylan reappears by my side and says, “Your Uncle Frank.”
Uncle Frank? Cheating with Tina? While she was dating Dad—until a week ago?
I turn to Dylan. “My mother once told me my aunt and uncle have a prenup with a cheating clause. If Uncle Frank cheats, my aunt gets three-quarters of everything my uncle has. I doubt he’d risk it.”
Dylan’s brows arch. “Maybe that’s why your uncle has been trying to gain control of the trust your mom left you. He’d lose a lot if Tina told your Aunt Carol everything.”
Tina telling my aunt about the affair would be a major motive for attempted murder.
Uncle Frank can be a real jerk, but could he actually try to kill someone?
Chapter 2
Dylan and his men are taking pictures backstage while I’m still rooted in my spot, processing the news about my uncle and Tina. He’s done some underhanded things to my family and me, but I can’t wrap my head around attempted murder. The thought sends a shiver up my spine.
Madge, our police dispatcher, arrives and snaps me out of my dark thoughts. Even though it’s barely November, she’s wearing one of her handmade year-round Christmas sweaters. This one has a tilted snowman on the front. Maybe Frosty had too much eggnog to drink.
The always-in-a-hurry brunette skids to a stop. “What the heck is going on? And why isn’t Dylan talking? The scanner said someone died on the way to the hospital.”
Died? Oh no. They weren’t able to save Tina after all.
My heart hurts for her family. “I don’t know what happened. One minute, Tina was helping with my dad’s trick, and the next, she was dead. Sort of.”
Madge’s forehead crumples. “Sort of?”
I quickly fill her in on Tina’s staring eyes, and then the affair. “I need to call my sister and ask about Tina’s condition, but first, I need to find my father. I want to know what Tina told him when she broke things off last week.”
Madge nods. “Yeah, Meg being a brain surgeon, she should be able to shine some light.” Madge lowers her voice. “If Frank did this, I hope he won’t find a way out of trouble like he always does, and he’ll finally get his due.”
“Me too.” My uncle makes my life so miserable sometimes. “But I wish Tina hadn’t had to die to make that happen.” Madge and I cross the backstage area, scooting around Dylan’s deputies working the scene. Would they be so busy if they thought it was a simple accident?
We’re almost to the rear door when Madge says, “Nice outfit, by the way. You should wear tight things like that more often. Might speed up whatever is happening between you and Dylan.”
I shake my head. “Dylan and I are keeping things casual for now.” Dylan would like to speed things up, but I’m still cautious with my bruised heart.
Speaking of my boyfriend, Dylan, looking cute in his uniform, appears before us and blocks the door. “Hold up, Nancy Drew and Miss Marple.” He lifts a hand. “I recognize the look in your eyes.”
Madge frowns. “Am I supposed to be Miss Marple in this scenario? She’s like eighty years old. I still qualify as middle-aged, thank you very much,” she harrumphs.
“Yeah,” I add, “and Nancy Drew is a teenager. We object to your characterization of our……characters.”
“Noted.” Dylan’s right brow pops. “What trouble are you two about to cause me?”
“We’re just looking for my father.” It’s hard to look too offended while sparkling in spandex, but I lift my chin anyway. “He’s covered in ice cream if the trick worked. Or bleeding if it didn’t work. Either way, he probably needs a towel.” I wave a hand down my body. “As you can see, I’m still on the job.”
“And yet, you don’t have a towel. I’ll join you. I’d like to ask Max a few questions too.”
Dylan is on to us. As usual.
He opens the door for us to pass by and whispers to me, “For the record, I like that outfit a lot better than your chef’s coat.” A corner of his mouth tilts.
“Noted.” I lead the way out the door while he and Madge troop behind. Dylan hates when Madge and I get involved with his cases, but this is personal. My family’s involved.
Dylan says, “Out of respect, let’s not discuss Tina’s death, ladies. We’re still trying to get ahold of her family.”
Madge and I both nod in understanding before we weave through the people surrounding a big cannon.
My father’s trick must’ve worked because he’s waving to the crowd, covered head to toe in vanilla ice cream. When he sees us, he climbs out of the plexiglass box he landed in and hurries toward us. “The mayor told me
