A Catered Christmas Cookie Exchange (A Mystery With Recipes) by Isis Crawford Page A

anything, and after five minutes they abandoned the attempt.
    “Whoever did this could have just used one rope,” Bernie said as she took out her phone and snapped a picture of the rope they’d found.
    “I’m not disagreeing with you,” Brandon said as he squatted down and took another look at the rope. “I’m guessing from the rope’s color and condition that it hasn’t been here that long. In fact, the rope looks pretty new.” He got up and brushed a few pieces of gravel off the knees of his pants. “But I think you’re still skating on pretty thin ice. This whole scenario you’ve conjured up . . .”
    “Conjured?” Bernie squawked.
    “As in dreamed up.”
    “I know what ‘conjured’ means, thank you very much, and I haven’t dreamed up anything,” Bernie replied indignantly.
    “I’ll be interested to hear what your dad has to say when he hears about this,” Brandon said to Bernie.
    “He’ll agree with me.” Bernie was about to explain why when Libby beeped the van’s horn.
    Bernie and Brandon both jumped at the sound.
    “We have to go,” Libby yelled to Bernie as she rolled down the van’s window. “Amber just called. Millie’s, and she wants to talk to us.”
    “About what?” Bernie called back.
    “I don’t know,” Libby replied. “Amber didn’t say.”
    “Good,” Brandon said. He began walking to his car. “Now maybe I can go back to sleep.”
    “Is Marvin around?” Bernie asked Libby after she’d climbed back into their van and brushed the particles of sleet off her bangs. Brandon’s last comment had given her an idea.
    “Yeah. Why?”
    “I figure if he isn’t busy, he and Dad can drive over and see the target and the rope. Four eyes . . .”
    “In this case eight . . .”
    “Whatever . . . being better than two, or four.”
    Libby nodded. She had to admit it was a good idea. “I’ll call and ask.”
    “Good.” Bernie rubbed her arms with her hands in an effort to take off the chill. “Can’t you get the heat in this thing up any higher? My comforter is warmer than this.”
    “Then maybe you should have brought it along,” Libby told her as she punched in Marvin’s number on her speed dial.
    At least, Bernie thought as she settled back in her seat, the hospital would be warm.

Chapter 6
    T he rain was falling harder now, coating the roadway and the trees with ice, so it took Bernie and Libby longer than usual to get to Longely General Hospital.
    “You know you can go over twenty miles an hour,” Bernie said to Libby as they turned onto Route 42.
    “I would if our tires were in better shape,” Libby shot back. Her hands clenched the steering wheel. She hated driving under circumstances like these, but she was damned if she was going to admit that to Bernie.
    “They’re not that bad,” Bernie said.
    “They’re not that good either,” Libby countered through gritted teeth. If they’d left a half hour ago, as she had wanted to, they wouldn’t be driving through this mess now.
    “Do you want me to drive?” Bernie asked Libby.
    Libby shook her head. “I’m fine,” she lied.
    “You are so not, Libby.”
    “I would be if you would stop asking me how I was every five minutes, Bernie.”
    Bernie grimaced. “You blame me for this, don’t you?”
    “What’s this?” Libby asked, feigning innocence.
    “This being the fact that we’re on the road now.”
    “Not at all,” Libby told her, lying again.
    Bernie shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it.”
    “It is.”
    “Fine. Just remember I offered to drive.”
    “Thanks, but I prefer to get there in one piece.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean, Libby?”
    “Exactly what you think it does, Bernie,”
    “Let’s take a time out from each other,” Bernie suggested.
    “Works for me,” Libby answered.
    Bernie turned her head and gazed out at the passing scene, while Libby leaned over and clicked on the radio. The sound of Aretha filled the air. The sisters didn’t talk until ten minutes