Sacrifice of Buntings by Christine Goff Page B

isn’t the murder of Paul Becker enough?”
    The truth hit home. Rachel’s cheeks started to heat, and then guilt set in. Her friend was really worried about this man. Setting down her cup, she reached for Dorothy’s hand. “I’m sorry. So what could Becker have discovered that could possibly be big enough to kill him over?”
    Neither of them could think of a thing.

CHAPTER 7
    Before they could take up the subject again, the hotel room door swung open and Lark and Cecilia burst into the room.
    “With all the excitement over there, how could you leave?” The sweat gleaming on Lark’s forehead was the only indication she had run up the stairs. “Or maybe you didn’t hear. Somebody killed Becker.”
    Rachel nodded. “We know.”
    “We found him,” Dorothy announced.
    Lark and Cecilia gasped.
    Cecilia hurried over and fluttered around her sister. “Oh my, oh, Dot.”
    “Are you two okay?” Lark asked.
    “We’re fine,” Dorothy said, batting Cecilia away. “But the cops have Guy. They took him downtown and everything.”
    Cecilia pulled up a chair and patted her sister’s thigh. “That’s what everyone was saying, so when we couldn’t find you, of course we thought…” She let her sentence dangle, but Dorothy jumped to the bait.
    “You thought they had dragged us off too?”
    “Of course not.” Cecilia sounded indignant. “We thought you might have gone with him.”
    That seemed to mollify Dorothy. “They did question us. I talked with a very nice young man. I suppose he was the good cop. I guess Rachel got the bad cop. She got the same one who dragged Guy away.”
    “Guy went willingly, and the detective, he was okay,” Rachel said. “He kept asking me the same questions over and over, but that’s his job. He was nice about it.”
    “Give us details,” Lark said. “We want to hear everything that happened.”
    With the detective’s admonition to keep quiet playing in her head, Rachel gave her rendition of the story, then Dorothy gave hers.
    “It fits,” Lark said. “The buzz at the festival is that Saxby is the main suspect.”
    “Rubbish.” Dorothy looked pointedly at each of them. “He’s innocent, and we plan to prove it.”
    “How?” Cecilia asked.
    Rachel wondered the same thing.
    “Why?” Lark asked.
    “Because I know he’s innocent, and the police think he’s guilty because of us. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t solved a murder before.”
    “No, we’ve solved three,” Cecilia said.
    “Or two, in my case,” Rachel said. She had been in Elk Park for the murder of Esther Mills, Lark’s late partner in the coffee company, and for the murder of the reporter from Birds of a Feather magazine, who was doing the exposé on her aunt’s late husband. That one had struck too close to home.
    “So far we have the Andersons on our list,” Dorothy said. “Can you think of anyone else who might want Becker dead?”
    “What about his wife?” Cecilia asked.
    Dorothy frowned. “Why would she want to kill him?”
    “Because most murders are crimes of passion, committed by someone close to the victim,” Cecilia replied. “Usually someone from the immediate family.”
    She’d been watching too much CSI .
    “I knew that,” Dorothy said.
    “Did you ever want to kill Roger?” Lark asked.
    Rachel looked up sharply. She met Lark’s stare and had to admit the thought had crossed her mind. “Before or after the divorce?”
    They all laughed at her joke, but Rachel wasn’t laughing too hard.
    “I need to get out of here,” she said, rising to her feet. “Anyone up for a walk on the beach?”
    “I’ll go,” Lark said.
    Cecilia looked at Dorothy, who hedged. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait here.”
     
    Cecilia stayed behind with Dorothy. Lark and Rachel took the car. Lark drove, honking and waving merrily at the protestors as they sped out the gate. The dark-haired hippie type smiled and waved back.
    Lark parked the car at the soccer fields, at the north