Death of a Batty Genius (Stormy Day Mystery #3) Read Online Free Page A

Catfish.” She offered a gloved hand and gave me a surprisingly strong handshake. I leaned down to give her Pekingese, Miss Molly, a pat goodbye, then set off toward the house again. I took Olivia Catfish’s good advice and pulled out my phone to put a call through to the police department’s non-emergency line.
    A gruff voice came through the small speaker. “Misty Falls police department. Captain Milano speaking.”
    “Tony Baloney,” I replied with fake enthusiasm. “So nice to hear your voice. Shouldn’t there be a receptionist answering this line?”
    “Yes, usually. Stormy? Why are you calling the main line and not my direct number?”
    “Because you’ve gotten all cranky lately, and every time I talk to you, we’re one step closer to one of us getting smacked.”
    “And whose fault is that?” He sighed. “Don’t answer, I don’t need the aggravation. Why are you calling, and how many ambulances should I dispatch?”
    “None, unless—”
    “What’s going on with you? I just got back from the restaurant where you had dinner and put on a show. Is it true you started a brawl? I talked the owner out of pressing charges.”
    “Pressing charges? On me?”
    Icily, he said, “No charges, and you’re welcome. Hang on.” His voice was muffled while he spoke to someone else. He came back with, “We can talk about you and your restaurant hijinks tomorrow. I’m busy now.”
    “Tony,” I said, but the call had already been terminated.
    I was back at the house again. I hurried inside and did a hopeful search for Jessica, but she still wasn’t there.
    Jessica was an adult, so the police might not take her disappearance as seriously as I did, but I wasn’t giving up on getting help.
    I would hit redial on my phone, but first I needed to know more about what I was calling in to report. I examined the evidence on the counter. The empty smoothie glasses smelled pleasant, like malt and cherries. According to the instructions on the empty bag, it held a powdered mix for two servings, equal to a full meal for each person. The dry residue in the bag reminded me of boxed cake mix.
    The packaging itself was premium quality, an opaque white zipper-seal bag, full-color print on both sides, with a background of illustrated jungle foliage and a colorful group of four exotic tree frogs. The artwork looked expensive, drawn by someone with talent, yet slightly off balance. I knew from my research into packaging design that objects were more visually pleasing when found in odd numbers, such as three or five. Four tree frogs were an unconventional choice, but I couldn’t let myself get hung up on such a minor detail.
    The company logo, BIGGS, was one I recognized. I’d read about Biggs Foods in the local paper, because the owner, Benjamin Biggs, was from Misty Falls. He’d graduated from high school a decade before me, so we hadn’t crossed social paths, but I’d felt a kinship with the man, and had enjoyed the article in the Misty Falls Mirror, the way all residents do when one of our own does something interesting in the world.
    “Benjamin Biggs,” I mused. “You were one of the town’s rising stars, and now you’ve gone and poisoned us with your Rainforest Delight .”

Chapter 4
 
    When you want help, you need to ask. If they don’t hear you, ask again. Louder.
    The second time I called the Misty Falls Police Department, they hung up on me.
    I called a third time.
    An irritated female voice came through. “Wiggles.”
    “Officer Peggy Wiggles? It’s me, Stormy Day.”
    “Tell me something I don’t know.”
    I sucked in air between my teeth. Peggy Wiggles, the department’s new fifty-something rookie, had been warming up to me lately, but right now she sounded as though she wanted to test their new taser equipment on my buttocks.
    Jeffrey, my mischievous and gray feline roommate, jumped onto the table and playfully swatted my hand for attention. Petting his soft fur gave me an idea.
    “Officer Wiggles,