Murder at Morningside by Sandra Bretting Page A

he’s going to have to cut that apron string.”
    Charles handed me a menu as I slipped into the seat. “Sounds like they need him.”
    â€œMust be.” Since Charles and I were the only two people in the restaurant, perhaps now would be the perfect time to chat. “Has everyone recovered from yesterday?” While Trinity’s body had surfaced only the day before, these people still had a business to run.
    â€œGuess so. It would’ve been a lot worse if we’d known her better. I mean, I never met the girl until last week.”
    â€œReally?”
    He offered a basket of rolls as round as pond stones and lightly glazed.
    â€œStill, it must have come as a terrible shock when they found her body so close by,” I said.
    â€œThat’s true. Kind of creepy, when you put it like that.”
    â€œI should think so.” Daintily, I placed a roll on my plate. “Where do you think they took the body?” While this wasn’t the best mealtime conversation, Charles would have the inside scoop.
    â€œThere’s only one funeral parlor in town. It’s right next to the Baptist church.” He set down the rolls and hovered over me, as if waiting for me to look at my menu. He should have known by now he’d have to wait a bit longer.
    â€œThat must make it very convenient. Back in Bleu Bayou, the funeral parlor is way across town.”
    â€œRiversbend is much smaller, so our church pastor works at both places.”
    â€œDo you go to church there?” I asked.
    â€œYeah, when I’m not working.”
    I glanced around the empty restaurant. I was probably the only person within a ten-mile radius sitting down to breakfast instead of sitting in a pew at the Baptist church. Shame on me for forgetting today was the Sabbath.
    â€œWhere did you say the church is?” There was no telling how much longer Ambrose would be away, and I was wearing my favorite hat. It could be interesting to see how the people around here worshipped, especially if it meant being closer to the place where they’d taken Trinity. Might be downright fascinating.
    â€œHalf a mile down the road, on your left. You can probably make the morning service if you leave right now.”
    I glanced out the window. Bright sunshine and a few wispy clouds. Perfect weather for a stroll. And I could always use some fresh air to get over my encounter in the hall the night before. “Say, Charles, I think I saw something outside my room last night. Or some one. Wearing a uniform, of all things.”
    â€œThat right? Must have spooked you with all that talk of ghosts yesterday. You know there’s no real evidence.”
    â€œOf course.” When he put it like that, it did sound silly. “I’ll tell you what. You get me some coffee to go and I’ll head over to the church and put that nonsense about ghosts and such out of my head.”
    â€œYou got it.” Charles left, which gave me a moment to slip a breakfast roll into my purse. I could always repay the hotel later with a big supper order. After a minute or two, he returned with a Styrofoam cup filled to the brim with something black and steaming .
    â€œIt might be fun to visit a new church,” I said. “Want me to say hello to anyone for you while I’m there?”
    His face softened a bit. “If you see Beatrice, tell her hey.”
    â€œI’ll do that. If I see her.” Now that I had a plan, I slid out of the seat, renewed by our little chat. If I was ever going to help sweet Ivy Solomon, there was no time like the present. And there was no telling how long until Lance got an official police report. By then, whoever killed Trinity could be miles and miles away, and it didn’t seem right to be so close to the person doing the investigating—my old neighbor, Lance LaPorte, all grown up—without helping if I could.
    Coffee in hand, I left the plantation. The only other souls out on