The Icing on the Corpse by Liz Mugavero

highlights. In addition to her position as executive director of the museum, Oliver worked at the Frog Ledge Historical Society two days per week, and was champion of the town’s efforts to digitize all paper records. She was also a long-time volunteer at the town’s historical War Office.
    She is predeceased by her first husband, state Senator Benjamin Miller, and her second husband, Henry Oliver. Oliver leaves behind two children: daughter Sarah Oliver and son Frog Ledge Town Councilman Donald Miller; daughter-in-law Carla Miller; two grandchildren, Donald Junior and Derek; longtime companion Gerry Ricci, also of Frog Ledge; and countless friends and extended family who will greatly miss her.
    Arrangements have not yet been made public. A celebration of Oliver’s life is being planned on and around the town green within the week.

    Cyril Pierce didn’t disappoint. The story offered everything there was to know about Helga’s death. Everything except Betty’s theories about a murder, thank goodness.
    Reading about Helga’s accomplishments made Stan feel melancholy. This woman had contributed so much to the town, and now she was gone. Just like that. Even at her well-lived age, Stan still found it immensely sad. The only condolence was that her work would live on.
    Stan flipped the Holler over to read below the fold. The story was about the postponement of an upcoming historical walking tour Helga was supposed to host. She wondered if Dale Hatmaker would try to worm his way into the job. She tossed the paper on her kitchen table.
    The dogs were barking outside, and she needed to get moving. Lots to do today. She and Amara were walking up to Izzy’s for their weekly planning meeting. Somehow, Stan had been “voluntold” into helping Amara with her grand opening well past preparing treats and meals. She didn’t mind, really. The new clinic and shelter would be a huge advantage for the town, and it would promote healthier pets than practices that only catered to traditional medicine. The time commitment was worth it.
    She went to the back door to check on the dogs. Henry and Scruffy were standing at the fence, probably waiting for a glimpse of their cow friends from the Happy Cow Dairy Farm farther down the street. They loved to watch the cows, although they mostly stayed in their enclosure this time of year.
    â€œI think it’s too cold for the cows!” she called, opening the door a crack. “Want to come in?”
    Both dogs’ heads swiveled to look at her, then went back to watching through the fence. “I guess not,” Stan said, and closed the door.
    Nutty jumped up on the windowsill next to her and watched the dogs, wistfully, it seemed. He still had a touch of that stray cat blood in him.
    â€œYou don’t want to go back outside,” she told him. “Remember all the bad things that happened out there?”
    Nutty swished his tail, leaving it standing in a tall plume. He didn’t look at her.
    â€œBesides, you wouldn’t get any home-cooked meals out there. Or homemade treats. And I’m sure that wouldn’t work for you.”
    That got his attention. He fixed his blankest stare on her. The one he gave her when he thought she was being extra stupid.
    â€œFine. You know the truth. I’d miss you.” She leaned over and kissed his head. He gave in and nuzzled against her. “We have to cook up the venison today. You’ll get to try some. That’s the benefit of living in the pet food chef’s house.”
    That perked him up. He hopped off the windowsill and headed for the kitchen, as if to say, Well, come on then, what are you waiting for, lady?
    She followed him into the kitchen, letting the dogs stay outside a few minutes longer for some exercise and fresh, albeit cold, air. She wouldn’t be able to bring them with her to Izzy’s this morning. It became too distracting when they were trying to work. And