Cadbury Creme Murder by Susan Gillard

Chapter 1
     
    “Wow,”
Heather said in a hushed voice.  Standing on her front porch, she surveyed a sodden
lawn littered with leaves and branches that, until very recently, had belonged
to the huge oak that spread its branches overhead.
     
    One
particularly large branch rested on her roof, attached to the trunk of the tree
by mere splinters.  Stepping over to the edge of the porch, her friend Amy
glanced up at it.  “You’re going to have to have your roof checked,” she said. 
“And that branch cut off.”
     
    Heather
nodded.  Walking slowly down the front sidewalk, she saw a few of her neighbors
doing the same thing in their own yards.  Now that the tornado had passed,
everyone had come out to assess the damage.
     
    Most
of the yards on the block looked like hers—littered with branches and leaves,
but no real damage done.  Thank God for that, at least.
     
    “Everybody
okay at your place?” her next door neighbor, Harold Jackson, called to her.
     
    “We’re
fine,” she called back.  “Rode out the storm in my hall closet.  You guys
okay?”
    “We’re
all right.  Me and my wife got in the tub and just sat there hoping the roof
didn’t crash in on us.  Guess it didn’t.  We’re thankful for that.”
     
    “Could
have been a lot worse,” she said.
     
    “Yep. 
That, it could have.  Well, glad everything’s okay over there.  You let me know
if you need any help cleaning up.”
     
    “Will
do,” she said.  “And thanks.”
     
    Jackson
raised a hand in a friendly wave and turned back to surveying his own property.
     
    “Doesn’t
look too bad out here,” Heather said to Amy.  “Let’s check the back yard.”
     
    As
they passed through the house on the way to the back door, Dave, her little,
fluffy white mixed-breed dog, scampered around their feet anxiously.  “You know
something’s wrong, don’t you?” she asked.  “But it’s okay now.  Everything’s
okay.”
     
    Dave
followed them to the back yard and came outside with them as Heather took
inventory of what had been damaged.  Fortunately, there didn’t appear to be any
major damage—just leaves and branches everywhere, and one dent on the hood of
her car where something must have fallen on it and then slid to the ground.
     
    She
circled the car, checking for further damage, but there wasn’t any.  “Looks
like you got off pretty light,” Amy said.  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to run
home and see how everything looks at my place.”
     
    “Go,”
Heather said.  “Do you want me to come with you?”
     
    “That’s
okay.  I’ll call you if I need you.”
     
    When
Amy had backed her car out of the driveway, Heather went back inside to grab a
couple of trash bags.  Might as well start cleaning up.
     
    She
spent the next hour going through both the front and the back yard to pick up
larger pieces of debris, then going back through both with a rake to gather the
leaves into piles.  Once she had stuffed armloads of them into the bags, tied
the bags shut, and lined them up beside her garage until the City of Hillside
got around to deciding when storm pickup would be, she went back inside,
flopped down on the couch, and patted the cushion next to her.
     
    Dave
jumped up beside her, snuggled next to her leg, then rolled over, showing her
his belly and begging for her to scratch it.  Which she did, until her cell
phone rang a few seconds later.
     
    She
jumped to her feet—“Sorry, Dave!”—listened for the direction the sound was
coming from, and found the device on her kitchen counter.  Ryan Shepherd ,
the screen read.  She smiled and slid her thumb across the screen to accept the
call.  “Hey there.”
     
    “Are
you okay?” he asked.
     
    “I’m
fine.  There’s one branch from the tree in my front yard that is resting on the
roof, but other than that, no significant damage.”
     
    “Good. 
I tried to call you an hour ago, but you didn’t answer.”
     
    “Sorry. 
I was