The llamas never talk…

How’s the weekend, y’all? I’m having fun in Dead End. This story is wild, gang. Did you preorder?

Here’s Tess talking to Sheriff Susan:

I ran a finger over the beautifully carved cherry-wood antique base and then blinked when a thought occurred. “Are you authorized to shoot people in Ohio? Your jurisdiction—”

She threw up her hands. “Of course not. But it’s not like they wouldn’t have deserved it. I also caught Cousin Aloysius in the library stuffing silver candlesticks and knick-knacks into the massive tote bag he uses as a man bag. You’d think somebody who’d only gotten out of jail three days before would have been more careful.”

“Which one just got out of jail?” I might need to take notes to keep track of her felonious relatives.

“Also, Cousin Aloysius in the library with a candlestick sounds like a bizarre game of Clue.”

“Right? Aloysius is the felon. He claims he was innocent, and nobody knows what happened to the rhubarb. The llama wasn’t talking, of course.”

(Author’s note: Because llamas NEVER talk. They’re not rats.)


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