High Stakes, a Hetty Fox Short: a Hetty Fox Short Story (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 3) Read Online Free

think I could make it that far.”
    “Okay,” he said, relenting, “come in and sit in the hall for a minute.”
    “Thank you. You’re terribly kind.” I wobbled forward into a large central hall and took up my seat on the small settee he pointed me toward. I glanced up at him. “Do you think I might have some water?”
    I half expected him to charge me for the use of the glass. But he surprised me.
    “Stay put and don’t touch anything.” Scowling, he padded off into the depths of the house.
    The hall I sat in was panelled with a lovely dark wood. The floor was made of  large squares of white tile, their edges trimmed by small black bits. A lovely chandelier hung overhead. A couple of tables hugging the walls sported vases that probably cost nearly as much as my house.
    I gripped my handbag and wondered how long it would be before I could leave. I wasn’t frightened so much as offended. The man had the manners of a goat. Although, I admitted to myself grudgingly, he got two points for fetching me water.
    It was several minutes before he returned bearing a glass. I wondered if he’d been pokey about it in hopes he might find me gone when he returned?
    “Thank you,” I said, accepting the water. I sipped, lowered the glass, and sighed. “It’s been such an awful day. I think that’s the problem.”
    “Really? Mine hasn’t been that good, either.”
    I ignored his comment. “I found a dead body this morning.”
    “Where?”
    “In the front lawn of a house on the other side of the river.”
    He harrumphed. “This town isn’t what it once was. Kids have no respect for anything today. You're telling me there’s been a dead body found on a front lawn in our town?”
    “Yes, the man’s name was Calvin Mazor. Did you know him?”
    This man’s watery eyes stared into the distance. “Can’t say I did.”
    Right then, I began to doubt that this man was the killer. He seemed too calm, too self assured.
    His glance drifted back at me. “Guess that’s bad luck for you, finding a corpse. What were you doing over on that side of town, anyway?”
    I explained about Hugh and his gerbil.
    “A gerbil,” he snorted. “In my day, nobody ever kept gerbils. Dogs maybe. Cats sometimes. But gerbils?” He lowered his gaze to the glass in my hand. I raised it to my lips and took a second sip.
    “Feeling better?” he asked.
    “Yes. Yes. I think this water is just what I needed.”
    Suddenly Andrew  whispered in my ear, telling me the house was clear and that we could leave.
    I rose from my seat, took a third sip of water, handed the glass back. “Thank you so much. You’ve been terribly kind. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to donate to the library?”
    In response that that question, he nearly slammed the door on me before I got through it.
    “Well,” I said, stepping down onto the sidewalk, “isn’t he a peach?”
    Andrew’s spoke while remaining hidden from view. “Maybe, but he isn’t a killer. Not only did he not have a fancy pair of tennis shoes in his closet, he didn’t have any tennis shoes at all. And there wasn’t a gun to be found anyplace, either. Believe me, I looked.”
    “He could have thrown the shoes out and the gun, too. Or maybe they’re in his house, but  they’re hidden.”
    “Either way, we’re not going to find them.”
     
    ***
     
    Back home, I pulled the bowls of chopped chicken and a jar of mayo from the fridge. “What do we do next?” I muttered. I deposited the bowls and jar on the counter and grabbed a large mixing spoon.
    At that moment, Blackie raced into the kitchen and pulled to an abrupt halt next to my feet. He sat,  gazed up at me, and mewed.
    “Oh, you poor thing,” I said, bending over and petting him. “You must be starving.”
    “Please,” Andrew folded his arms over his chest. “That cat is the most spoiled creature I’ve ever seen. Skipping a meal would do him no harm at all.”
    Blackie twisted his head to glance at Andrew and pushed his ears