Read Online 7 Madness in Miniature by Margaret Grace - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Grace
Tags: Mystery Fiction, amateur sleuth, cozy mysteries, Grandparenting, crafting miniatures, San Francisco peninsula, craft store, miniaturists
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beginning to get uncomfortable, calling up disturbing memories. “Jeanine used to baby-sit a lot for Maddie. She just graduated high school and is going for her community college degree at night.”
My rude nephew made no comment other than to give me a nod that said, yes, he did remember Jeanine, followed by raised eyebrows that asked why it mattered and why I was interrupting him.
“What was the meeting about?” Skip asked, returning to his straight-on face-to-face position with Catherine.
“Just business stuff. The Grand Opening celebration coming up, various sales and specials.”
“So you helped Jeanine for how long?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“And the other three were still there when you left?”
“I…I’m not sure. I never went back to the meeting room.”
“And where did you go when you left the building? Around six was it?”
“Yes, Jeanine left first and I left soon after.”
“To go…?” Skip asked.
“It was still kind of warm so I walked around for a while, down by the library.”
“So, you left the meeting with Mr. Palmer at about five, left the store at about six, then walked around?”
“Maybe it wasn’t that late, maybe I left earlier. What does it matter?”
“Okay, but in any case, you were back at the hotel by six thirty-two?”
“Excuse me?” Catherine said.
“Six thirty-two. That’s when the earthquake hit, and you said you were in your hotel room when it hit. Where did you say you were staying again?”
Catherine hadn’t said, and Skip knew it. She looked rattled, as if there’d been another quake, which is how I was feeling also. She folded her arms across her chest, adjusted her shawl, and fidgeted in her chair. And why wouldn’t she be flustered? She was being interrogated by a homicide detective. Why? I wondered. Craig Palmer had been hit by a falling object in an earthquake. Hadn’t he?
“More tea, anyone?” I asked. “I can cut a fresh lemon.”
Catherine looked at her watch. “I really should get going. I’ve kept you up long enough already, Gerry.” She stood and brushed invisible specks from her pants, and picked up her tote. She seemed annoyed enough to ask for her wine back. “Nice to meet you, Skip. Good luck with the reports,” she said, with an insincerity that I could taste.
Skip reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. I winced. I’d hoped he wouldn’t do that. “Take this, please, Catherine. And call me if you think of anything else.”
Catherine plucked the card from Skip’s hand, and without looking at it, dropped it into her tote. She gave me a small wave and headed for the door. I joined her in the short walk past the ficus.
“I’m so sorry if we made you uncomfortable,” I said, assuming part of the blame, for not interrupting Skip sooner.
Catherine shook her head. “I’m just tired,” she said. “Thanks for…” She seemed to be struggling to think of something to be grateful for.
“Call me or come by any time,” I said. I heard no response.
As soon as the lock clicked into place, I turned to my nephew.
“Speak,” I said.
“What?”
“What, indeed. What was that about? You were grilling her as if she were a suspect in one of your murder investigations.”
Skip raised his eyebrows and bit his upper lip, a sure sign of pressure. He spread his palms, as if to say…
And I finally saw it. I drew in my breath. “Craig Palmer was murdered, wasn’t he?”
A slow nod and a sigh were all I needed for a reply. I put on more water, for coffee this time. The day was getting longer and longer.
Chapter 5
Skip indulged me with an explanation of his behavior toward my guest. He’d just learned that Craig Palmer’s death wasn’t caused by the three-point-one, though his killer apparently hoped that would be the assumption. Once Skip realized I might know the victim, he’d come by to tell me, though he claimed he wouldn’t have awakened me if my house had been dark.
“But when I saw the car
My rude nephew made no comment other than to give me a nod that said, yes, he did remember Jeanine, followed by raised eyebrows that asked why it mattered and why I was interrupting him.
“What was the meeting about?” Skip asked, returning to his straight-on face-to-face position with Catherine.
“Just business stuff. The Grand Opening celebration coming up, various sales and specials.”
“So you helped Jeanine for how long?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“And the other three were still there when you left?”
“I…I’m not sure. I never went back to the meeting room.”
“And where did you go when you left the building? Around six was it?”
“Yes, Jeanine left first and I left soon after.”
“To go…?” Skip asked.
“It was still kind of warm so I walked around for a while, down by the library.”
“So, you left the meeting with Mr. Palmer at about five, left the store at about six, then walked around?”
“Maybe it wasn’t that late, maybe I left earlier. What does it matter?”
“Okay, but in any case, you were back at the hotel by six thirty-two?”
“Excuse me?” Catherine said.
“Six thirty-two. That’s when the earthquake hit, and you said you were in your hotel room when it hit. Where did you say you were staying again?”
Catherine hadn’t said, and Skip knew it. She looked rattled, as if there’d been another quake, which is how I was feeling also. She folded her arms across her chest, adjusted her shawl, and fidgeted in her chair. And why wouldn’t she be flustered? She was being interrogated by a homicide detective. Why? I wondered. Craig Palmer had been hit by a falling object in an earthquake. Hadn’t he?
“More tea, anyone?” I asked. “I can cut a fresh lemon.”
Catherine looked at her watch. “I really should get going. I’ve kept you up long enough already, Gerry.” She stood and brushed invisible specks from her pants, and picked up her tote. She seemed annoyed enough to ask for her wine back. “Nice to meet you, Skip. Good luck with the reports,” she said, with an insincerity that I could taste.
Skip reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. I winced. I’d hoped he wouldn’t do that. “Take this, please, Catherine. And call me if you think of anything else.”
Catherine plucked the card from Skip’s hand, and without looking at it, dropped it into her tote. She gave me a small wave and headed for the door. I joined her in the short walk past the ficus.
“I’m so sorry if we made you uncomfortable,” I said, assuming part of the blame, for not interrupting Skip sooner.
Catherine shook her head. “I’m just tired,” she said. “Thanks for…” She seemed to be struggling to think of something to be grateful for.
“Call me or come by any time,” I said. I heard no response.
As soon as the lock clicked into place, I turned to my nephew.
“Speak,” I said.
“What?”
“What, indeed. What was that about? You were grilling her as if she were a suspect in one of your murder investigations.”
Skip raised his eyebrows and bit his upper lip, a sure sign of pressure. He spread his palms, as if to say…
And I finally saw it. I drew in my breath. “Craig Palmer was murdered, wasn’t he?”
A slow nod and a sigh were all I needed for a reply. I put on more water, for coffee this time. The day was getting longer and longer.
Chapter 5
Skip indulged me with an explanation of his behavior toward my guest. He’d just learned that Craig Palmer’s death wasn’t caused by the three-point-one, though his killer apparently hoped that would be the assumption. Once Skip realized I might know the victim, he’d come by to tell me, though he claimed he wouldn’t have awakened me if my house had been dark.
“But when I saw the car
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