Fear of Frying

impatiently.
    The deputy leaned down, whispering to Taylor.
    Taylor walked away with him for a minute.
    “Jane, will you stop that scratching?“ Shelley said irritably.
    “Sorry, it’s like yawning. I see someone yawn and it makes me yawn.”
    Taylor came back and sat down at the table drumming his fingers for a few seconds, then waved the deputy off, saying, “I’ll be right there.“
    “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?“ Jane said.
    “Yes, you could say that,“ Taylor said mournfully. “They’ve found Henry McCoy. Dead.”

Twenty-one

    Jane and Shelley watched the sheriff leave with the deputy.
    “I want to go home right now. This minute,“ Jane said quietly through gritted teeth.
    “Try telling that to the law,“ Shelley said. “What a mess this is! Who in the world would want to kill this Henry person?“
    “Somebody who meant to kill him in the first place?“ Jane said. “Shelley, maybe that’s it! Maybe Henry McCoy was the intended victim in the first place and somebody mistook Sam for him. Could we have been looking at this backwards?“
    “But nobody knew about Henry.“
    “Nobody admits to knowing about Henry. There’s a whopping big difference,“ Jane said.
    “That pretty well leaves us with John Claypool or Marge. And John, who might have had a good financial motive, just destroyed it by admitting he’s only an employee of the car dealership,“ Shelley reminded her. “He didn’t stand to gain anything from Sam’s death.“
    “He could have other motives,“ Jane said halfheartedly.
    “Like what?“ Shelley said. “I’ll admit I’ve tried to think of some and can’t. If John Claypool had a gripe with his brother, I think he’d broadcast it far and wide. But Marge is looking like a better suspect every minute. If she and Henry plotted to bump off Sam, and then she decided the partnership wasn’t such a good idea—“
    “She’s got a good alibi,“ Jane said. “Having been under police guard most of the day.“
    “But not all day. Remember when Eileen said she was looking for John and stopped at Marge’s cabin and found her in her robe in the middle of the day? She was alone then.“
    “Had Henry, still masquerading as Sam, gone missing by that time?“ Jane asked.
    “I have no idea, but I’ll bet the sheriff is drawing up a time line.”
    Al and Liz had come back from their errand of mercy and were filling their own plates. Bob Rycraft was eating with John Claypool. They’d given up any pretense of conversation. Bob was looking like he might nod off right into his food, and John was staring into space and taking an occasional bite of food. Benson and Edna were talking with one of the kitchen kids, and Allison was “circulating,“ visiting with the guests. It didn’t look like anybody else knew about the latest body, and without even discussing it, Jane and Shelley were in agreement that they weren’t going to mention it.
    “I wish Sheriff Taylor luck with a time line,“ Jane said. “I’m glad it’s his problem, not ours, and I’m going to eat dinner before some new catastrophe catches up with this place.”
    They both tried to force themselves to concentrate on food instead of murder. Tonight’s dinner was “home style.“ Pork chops, meat loaf, fried potatoes, scalloped cauliflower, Boston lettuce with choice of bottled dressings, cucumber sticks, Jell-O salad. Good food, but plain.
    As they sat down, the sheriff came back into the dining room with Marge and Eileen in tow. Marge was sobbing; Eileen was trying to comfort her sister-in-law and shooting looks of pure loathing at Sheriff Taylor at the same time. Taylor was ignoring her.
    “I’m eating my dinner, no matter what!“ Jane said quietly to Shelley.
    Taylor came to the middle of the room and rapped sharply on an empty table for attention. This was unnecessary as everyone but Jane and Shelley was already staring at him.
    “You should all know,“ he announced, “that the body of Henry McCoy, who was passing himself off as Sam Claypool, has been found in the woods. He was stabbed to death.”
    Somebody gasped.
    Marge let out a low, shuddering wail of grief. Eileen said, “This is barbaric!“
    “Yes,“ Taylor said. “It is. And we’re going to get to the bottom of it. Nobody is leaving this room until I say so. My deputy is going to give you pencils and paper and you’re all going to account for your day. I want times, places, who was with you, who else you saw, what you