Read Online A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) by Keeley Bates - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Keeley Bates
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mistaken them for brother and sister as children. They both had the same blue eyes with gold flecks and chestnut-colored hair. His younger sister, Arabella, favored her mother whereas Crispin and Kit shared Winthrop physical traits.
He handed her the vodka tonic. “Your mother said you might show. I bet Huntley twenty dollars that you wouldn’t.”
“It was a last minute decision,” Kit admitted, not wanting to say anything else on the subject.
Crispin owned the local newspaper, the Westdale Gazette. As a general rule, he was the last person she’d confide in. Not to mention he’d been a first class tattletale from the time he could talk. He’d gotten Kit into trouble on many occasions, especially during their teen years. They hadn’t even attended the same high school — she’d gone to the Shiphay School, an all girls’ school, and he’d gone the neighboring all boys’ school — yet he’d still managed to sink her sneaky ship whenever the opportunity had presented itself. Crispin Winthrop was a world-class snitch. Still, she loved him like a brother.
“Shall I get you another drink?” Crispin asked Rebecca, nodding toward her empty glass.
“Just lemonade for me,” she said. “I’m driving and I need to be on my toes for my father.”
They joined Crispin at the bar so he could order the lemonade. “My mother said that your father is ill,” Kit remarked.
Rebecca nodded. “Cancer. It hit him hard and fast. I’ve taken a semester off from medical school to spend time with him.”
“What about your mother?” Kit asked.
“Mother?” Rebecca blinked. “She died when I was ten. Father remarried last year, but, with my medical training, we felt that I was better suited to look after him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Kit could tell there was more to the story than Rebecca was admitting, but she didn’t push the issue. Rebecca was obviously a devoted and loving daughter, just what her father needed.
Kit surveyed the room, trying to decide how to dig for information without offering too much of her own. This would prove more difficult than she’d anticipated. In that moment, she realized that she never had to think as Ellie Gold, her thoughts and actions had been dictated for her, not unlike her childhood.
Her gaze wandered back to Cecilia Musgrove. She’d had a private conversation with Chief Riley on the subject. Maybe there was a reason for that.
“Shall we rejoin Cecelia and my mother?” Kit proposed.
Crispin eyed her curiously. “You are voluntarily returning to your mother’s side?” He grabbed her drink and took a sip. “Nope, no drugs in there.”
“Hey, that reminds me. Why haven’t you reported on the skeleton in my house? I would think that’s big news in Westdale.”
Crispin swilled his own drink. “And tip people off that you’re living alone on Thornhill Road?” he queried. “I love you too much to do that to you. You’d have paparazzi and weirdos pitching tents on your front lawn in no time. The neighbors will hate you.”
Despite the sweetness of the sentiment, Kit didn’t buy it for a second. For one thing, the Crispin she knew would rat her out in a heartbeat if it meant a good story. The real tipoff, however, was Crispin’s demeanor. His eyes were focused anywhere except on her. In her experience with the Winthrop branch of her family, that meant he was lying. But why?
Kit immediately spotted Romeo in a booth at the back of the room. He didn’t glance up from the menu until she slid into the seat across from him. He was dressed in what she assumed was part of his summer casual collection — neatly pressed khakis and a red shirt.
“Where’s your suit?” she asked. “I hardly recognized you in costume.”
“I’m trying to blend,” he said.
“People in Westdale wear suits,” Kit objected.
“Not in the pancake joint at ten o’clock at night,” he replied. He handed her a menu. “So what’d you find out?”
“My mother can
He handed her the vodka tonic. “Your mother said you might show. I bet Huntley twenty dollars that you wouldn’t.”
“It was a last minute decision,” Kit admitted, not wanting to say anything else on the subject.
Crispin owned the local newspaper, the Westdale Gazette. As a general rule, he was the last person she’d confide in. Not to mention he’d been a first class tattletale from the time he could talk. He’d gotten Kit into trouble on many occasions, especially during their teen years. They hadn’t even attended the same high school — she’d gone to the Shiphay School, an all girls’ school, and he’d gone the neighboring all boys’ school — yet he’d still managed to sink her sneaky ship whenever the opportunity had presented itself. Crispin Winthrop was a world-class snitch. Still, she loved him like a brother.
“Shall I get you another drink?” Crispin asked Rebecca, nodding toward her empty glass.
“Just lemonade for me,” she said. “I’m driving and I need to be on my toes for my father.”
They joined Crispin at the bar so he could order the lemonade. “My mother said that your father is ill,” Kit remarked.
Rebecca nodded. “Cancer. It hit him hard and fast. I’ve taken a semester off from medical school to spend time with him.”
“What about your mother?” Kit asked.
“Mother?” Rebecca blinked. “She died when I was ten. Father remarried last year, but, with my medical training, we felt that I was better suited to look after him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Kit could tell there was more to the story than Rebecca was admitting, but she didn’t push the issue. Rebecca was obviously a devoted and loving daughter, just what her father needed.
Kit surveyed the room, trying to decide how to dig for information without offering too much of her own. This would prove more difficult than she’d anticipated. In that moment, she realized that she never had to think as Ellie Gold, her thoughts and actions had been dictated for her, not unlike her childhood.
Her gaze wandered back to Cecilia Musgrove. She’d had a private conversation with Chief Riley on the subject. Maybe there was a reason for that.
“Shall we rejoin Cecelia and my mother?” Kit proposed.
Crispin eyed her curiously. “You are voluntarily returning to your mother’s side?” He grabbed her drink and took a sip. “Nope, no drugs in there.”
“Hey, that reminds me. Why haven’t you reported on the skeleton in my house? I would think that’s big news in Westdale.”
Crispin swilled his own drink. “And tip people off that you’re living alone on Thornhill Road?” he queried. “I love you too much to do that to you. You’d have paparazzi and weirdos pitching tents on your front lawn in no time. The neighbors will hate you.”
Despite the sweetness of the sentiment, Kit didn’t buy it for a second. For one thing, the Crispin she knew would rat her out in a heartbeat if it meant a good story. The real tipoff, however, was Crispin’s demeanor. His eyes were focused anywhere except on her. In her experience with the Winthrop branch of her family, that meant he was lying. But why?
Kit immediately spotted Romeo in a booth at the back of the room. He didn’t glance up from the menu until she slid into the seat across from him. He was dressed in what she assumed was part of his summer casual collection — neatly pressed khakis and a red shirt.
“Where’s your suit?” she asked. “I hardly recognized you in costume.”
“I’m trying to blend,” he said.
“People in Westdale wear suits,” Kit objected.
“Not in the pancake joint at ten o’clock at night,” he replied. He handed her a menu. “So what’d you find out?”
“My mother can
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