Chapter 8
Ruth sat on the sugar box in the pantry with the door wide open as John rambled on about the rumors surrounding Vincent Von Hemmingsly’s death. He didn’t know the full story yet—like how it had been deemed a murder. No one knew except for the people who had been inside the pantry with Officer Humphrey—and the murderer, of course—and Ruth didn’t feel like talking about it at the moment. In fact, she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to talk about it anyway. So instead, she sat there, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, watching Loretta on the other side of the kitchen. Her back was turned toward her, and her arms were crossed. She looked like a bulldog ready to bolt out as soon as they were released. Ruth couldn’t blame her; she was beginning to feel a little antsy hersel
