The Chocolate Castle Clue by JoAnna Carl

was chattering away, speaking to Hazel, who was clutching her jacket around her, looking annoyed and ignoring Ruby. Kathy Street, naturally, was crying—softly, this time—and Margo Street had her arm around her sister.
    Joe and I went straight to Aunt Nettie, and she greeted us effusively. She and Julie Hensley listened as Joe quietly explained that the patrolman who investigated the accident would be forced to tell Hogan about it.
    â€œIf you don’t want Hogan to come home,” he said, “your best bet is to call him yourself, explain just what happened, and assure him you have the situation under control.”
    â€œI’ll do that, of course,” Aunt Nettie said. “He’s presenting the opening session of the workshop tomorrow, and he’s involved all week. He’s worked hard on it, and I don’t want him to drop it.”
    â€œIf no one’s hurt, I don’t think he’ll feel that he has to,” Joe said. “You’ve already called the cops?”
    Julie Hensley nodded. “We called. The dispatcher said there was only one patrol car on duty, and he was tied up for fifteen or twenty minutes. So we’re waiting.”
    Joe grinned. “Welcome to small-town America.”
    Mrs. Hensley gave a derisive snort. “Small-town America indeed! I can’t believe this happened in my old hometown. It was a hit-and-run!”
    â€œHit-and-run?” Joe sounded incredulous.
    â€œYes! We were driving slowly past Nettie’s shop—all taking a good look at it—and this car came up behind us. I’ll swear it deliberately rammed us! It wasn’t going too fast, or someone would have had whiplash. Then the car backed up, swung out to the left, and passed us. After it got around us, it speeded up, turned left at the corner, and disappeared.”
    â€œDid you get its license number?”
    Mrs. Hensley shook her head. “No, but the car was unmistakable. It was a bright red Buick, a real antique. I’d guess it was at least forty years old!”
    Joe looked at Aunt Nettie, and she nodded miserably. “Yes, Joe,” she said. “It was Verna Rice in her old red Buick.”

Chapter 6

    I was still taking that in when the sound of a siren cut loose. The patrolman had apparently waited until he was within a block of the accident to turn it on, because it immediately was so loud that it drowned out all conversation.
    Joe and I stepped aside, and I thought about all this.
    Verna Rice had deliberately collided with Julie Hensley’s fancy limo? Why on earth would she do that?
    It had a sort of twisted logic. If Mrs. Rice was angry with the Pier-O-Ettes, then saw them driving by in a limo, maybe the impulse to hit them simply hit her. Whammo.
    It would have been a stupid thing to do, but Verna Rice didn’t seem to operate on the rules of common sense.
    But how would she have known the six old friends were in the limo? I looked it over carefully. The windows of the passenger section were heavily tinted. Mrs. Rice couldn’t have seen inside it. But she could have seen the driver. I quickly asked Aunt Nettie if Julie had been alone in the driver’s seat.
    Aunt Nettie shook her head. “I was sitting up front with her,” she said.
    So Mrs. Rice might have seen Aunt Nettie.
    Jerry Cherry, the Warner Pier patrolman, took down the information from Julie Hensley and assured her he would talk to Mrs. Rice immediately.
    â€œI don’t want her arrested or anything,” Mrs. Hensley said. “I knew her—more than forty years ago. I guess she has some sort of grudge against us—the six of us. But I swear I never deliberately did anything to harm her.”
    The others chimed in, all denying any ill feeling toward Mrs. Rice. They sounded a little defensive.
    Mrs. Hensley went on. “But she can’t just hit somebody with her car. This is going to cost something for repairs. And someone could have been