Fiona Silk Mysteries 2-Book Bundle. Mary Jane Maffini

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Fiona Silk Mysteries 2-Book Bundle - Mary Jane Maffini A Fiona Silk Mystery

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never seen a fatal collision before. The weird thing is, I feel responsible somehow.”

      He narrowed his eyes. “Why should you feel responsible?”

      “I swore at him.”

      “That’s it?”

      “Well, it’s not like me.”

      He chuckled.

      I said, “I’m not that kind of person.”

      He nodded. “Don’t worry about it. You’re probably okay under the Criminal Code on that one.”

      “Funny.“

      Sarrazin met my eyes. “Did you know him?”

      I shook my head.

      “Think about it.”

      I said, “I didn’t know him.”

      “Take your time.”

      I stared. “I just told you I didn’t know him.”

      “You want to close your eyes and relive the scene? You might recognize him then.”

      “I really don’t want to relive that scene.”

      “Take your time. Break it down into frames. Maybe it will come to you.”

      “Why? Who was he?”

      “Sorry, madame. We will not be able to release the name until the family has been notified.”

      “Oh. But...”

      “Is there a particular reason you want to know, madame?”

      “Because you are asking me about him, even though I keep telling you I didn’t recognize him. And, all right, I’ll admit there was something familiar about him. I just don’t know who he was. And everybody looks familiar lately. But what happened to the woman?”

      “What woman?”

      “His passenger.”

      Sarrazin frowned. “There was no passenger.”

      “Sure there was.”

      He blinked first. “I am certain of it. There was only one body found in the vehicle.”

      “Maybe she was destroyed by the fire. Maybe her body was...”

      “It doesn’t work that way. If there had been another person in that Escalade, we would have known.”

      “But I saw a woman. I’m positive that—” I stopped myself. “Well, I sure don’t want to hope that someone else was in that crash.”

      “You were under stress from the hospital.”

      “You knew I was at the hospital?”

      “I am a police officer. Everyone in the village knows that you visit Marc-André Paradis several times a week.”

      “They do?”

      “People think it’s nice. They know he’s in bad shape. They know what happened to him. They hope that he gets better. Anyway, it must have been difficult for you, that particular visit.”

      “Surely that hospital aide didn’t...”

      “No madame. Just...”

      “Gossip?”

      “We call it intelligence. Anyway, you were rattled, the way the guy intimidated you. He gave you the finger. He was driving aggressively. Most people would find that upsetting.”

      I nodded.

      He said, “So, it would be easy to be mistaken about seeing someone else.”

      I cast my mind back to the scene. “I hope you’re right.”

      But I knew he was wrong.

       Spotted Dick Canadian Style

       Contributed by Woody Quirke of L’Épicerie 1749

       ⅓ cup butter

       ⅓ cup white sugar

       2 eggs

       1½ cups self raising flour

       1 teaspoon baking powder

       Pinch of salt

       ⅓ cup milk

       1 tablespoon water

       ½ cup sweetened dried cranberries

       Grated zest of one large lemon

      Cream together the butter and the sugar, before gradually adding the eggs, while beating. Carefully add the flour in small amounts, along with the baking powder and salt. Beat in the water, followed by milk to get a smooth creamy consistency. You may need to add a bit more milk.

      Stir in the cranberries and the lemon zest. Transfer the mixture to a greased pudding bowl, approximately 2 pint capacity. Cover with double layer of waxed paper tied with string (or a shoelace) around the outside of the bowl and place in a large Dutch oven or similar pot with enough water to reach halfway up the exterior of the bowl. Simmer for 2½ hours, covered.

      Serve with custard sauce:

       3 egg yolks

       ¼ cup sugar

       Pinch of salt

       2 cups scalded milk

       1 teaspoon vanilla extract

      Beat egg yolks, then add the sugar and salt. Add scalded milk slowly while stirring constantly. Cook in a double boiler until thickened slightly and the mixture coats a spoon.

      Five

      Later I wondered why one of the enquêteurs, as we call detectives here in St. Aubaine, would waste his time dropping by to ask me about a traffic accident. What had he really wanted? Why had he kept asking me if I knew the driver? I needed an activity to take my mind off that.

      I picked up the phone and dialed. “I know you’re there, Philip.” It still seemed sort of weird to be saying that, since I’ve spent years ignoring his calls. I left a message. “We need to finish up this settlement business. You know that as well as I do. Let’s just get it

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