The Body in the Landscape (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 5) by Larissa Reinhart

all the time, just like Abel was,” muttered Desiree.
    “Friendly guy?” asked Todd, popping a bite of okra into his mouth.
    “I wouldn’t say that.” Desiree curled her lip. “If people pay and don’t cause trouble in here, I’ll serve ’em. Men like Abel and Rick keep us in business. They’re here just about every night.”
    “Rick wasn’t here last night,” piped Sheri, waving the five ones.
    Desiree snatched the money and shoved it in her back pocket. “Well, he’s here tonight, ain’t he? So stop shouting his name for everybody to hear. They’ve all got eyes and ears.”
    I noted Rick’s absence in my mental “Abel Spencer’s Suspicious Death” file. “I’m glad Abel didn’t spend his last night alone. Did he hang out with anyone last night?”
    “ That stranger was here,” said Sheri.
    I nudged Todd, who seemed too busy consuming our fried okra to mentally file anything.
    “That’s right. Guests from the lodge. That singer, Bob Bass, and his group came in for a drink.” Desiree’s tone revealed Bob Bass’s charm had not won him any favors at the Double Wide. “They couldn’t fool me. Stopped in to look down their noses at us.”
    “That’s not who I meant,” said Sheri. “Another lodge guest. The fat one. He was asking questions about Hogzilla. Talking a lot of weird stuff. I think he said he was a writer.”
    “Weird stuff?” My voice rose with my interest. “Was Abel interested in this weird stuff?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Sheri. “He’s not into that sort of thing.”
    “Abel’d rather talk about local doings,” said Desiree.
    “I heard that about him.” I kicked my heels against the stool rungs. T he Bob Bass party might have met Abel. Although it didn’t seem likely that their visit would have anything to do with his death.
    “Abel didn’t really talk to anyone. I think he was waiting for someone,” said Sheri. “And he was kind of agitated. Like Ma said, he didn’t even drink his regular. Cut out early.”
    “It’s not our business, Sheri,” said the lone male Guterson. “You’re stirring things up.”
    “I’m not,” said Sheri. “It’s not like I talked to the cops when they came by, Caleb.”
    “We don’t talk to cops.” Caleb Guterson pierced Sheri with a hard stare.
    “Nothing to tell, anyway. Just Abel all riled up. Like he gets when he’s got news to tell.”
    “Sheri didn’t say nothing to ’em, Caleb,” said Desiree. “I did. They just wanted to know when he left so as to get a time of death. But I also told ’em Abel knows those woods well enough not to get his neck broke.”
    “You sound like you don’t think Abel’s death was an accident.”
    Desiree shrugged. “Don’t know if it was or wasn’t. All I know is Abel’s been walking that path his whole life. And that ditch ain’t even on the path. I can’t believe they found him there.”
    “He left the path? I didn’t think that looked like a path.” I pushed my beer away. “Was Abel even drunk? You said he didn’t drink his regular. He hadn’t been drinking when I met him either.”
    Desiree and Sheri looked to one another to jog their memories.
    “Maybe not,” said Desiree. “The man’s been stewing in liquor for so long, it’s hard to remember.”
    “So, Abel wandered off his path and fell into a ditch sober?” I muttered. “I wonder how long it’ll take to get the blood alcohol report back from the state lab?”
    Todd coughed. Desiree was exchanging a look with her son and daughter-in-law. Their eyes slid back to me.
    Realizing my social gaffe, I scooted off my stool. “Can I use your facilities?”
    I needed to think about how to extract more information from this group without ticking them off. And I really wanted to know if they spoke to Rookie Holt or someone else. Maybe this very information is what made Rookie Holt doubt Abel’s fall as an accident.
    Desiree jerked her chin toward the back of the trailer.
    I squeezed between picnic table