Read Online A Taste of Death (Maggie Olenski Series) by Mary Ellen Hughes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Ellen Hughes
Ads: Link
see a certain secretiveness appear in the woman's eyes for just a moment. Was she imagining it? This was a woman who could barely wait to spread the latest news about her neighbors, good or bad. The look vanished as quickly as it appeared, though, and the more familiar Annette answered Maggie's question with a hint of her usual all-knowing smugness. "Why, it must have been because of their affair. Elizabeth and Jack Warwick's. I'm only surprised it took the sheriff this long to get there."
<><><>
Maggie had been tossing and turning in her bed for so long that she finally gave up and threw back the tangled covers. Not wanting to wake Dyna in case she had managed to fall asleep, she found her robe in the dark and tip-toed down the winding staircase, thinking she might have some of Dyna's caffeine-free herbal tea. They had shared a somber dinner earlier, and Maggie tried with little success to work afterward.
Rob had called , and she had been happy to hear his voice and glad of the distraction. She listened to his enthusiastic descriptions of his work at the tennis camp, letting herself be lulled by what sounded like a much simpler life in the Florida sunshine. When he asked about her activities, though, she told him only of her afternoon skiing and the start of her book.
After she hung up she had a twinge of uneasiness. She hadn't been completely open with him. She tried telling herself it was only because she didn't know the whole story yet, and that it was no use telling him things in bits and pieces. But the uneasiness, along with thoughts of Elizabeth, had kept her from sleep.
Turning on just one small light in the kitchen, Maggie heated up a mugful of water in the microwave, catching the timer before it ping ed . She let the tea bag steep for a minute or two, then cradled the fragrant concoction between her hands and wandered over to the sliding glass doors. With no clouds covering it, the moon cast enough brightness on the snowy outdoors to give a clear view of the woods across the road, and Maggie gazed at them, her mind busy.
Things looked bad for Elizabeth, and when more information came out they might look worse. John Severin struck Maggie as an intelligent man. She didn't think he would make baseless decisions. He must have had good cause to search the bookstore and Elizabeth's living quarters, something other than gossip, and good reason to take Elizabeth in.
But Elizabeth wasn't a murderer. Maggie felt sure of that. Her thoughts flew back to the Elizabeth she had known so many years ago:
"Betsy, look, there's a hawk circling. I bet he's zeroing in on his prey, like Mrs. Jackson was telling us."
"Oh, I hope he doesn't get it!" Betsy had said.
"He has to eat, silly . That's how he gets his food."
"I'll feed him. I just don't want him to kill some poor little bird."
And the girls had laughed, Maggie along with them, at th e image of Betsy trying to paci fy a hungry hawk with the camp's hot dogs.
Then there was the rescue of the Daddy Longlegs that Maggie had remembered in the book shop, something Elizabeth apparently was still doing, even with spiders. Most people were revolted by spiders, especially indoors. Elizabeth hovered over them.
And Elizabeth had cared for her ailing mother, even foregoing college to do that , something that clearly was a sacrifice. Could someone this selfless be a murderer?
Elizabeth had been flustered when Maggie brought up Jack Warwick, but that might have been only because of their past relationship - if they truly had an affair - and not necessarily guilt over his murder. Maggie suspected that Elizabeth was one of those people who agonized over things that others could rationalize away, things much less portentous than murder.
As far as the affair that Annette seemed so sure of, Maggie thought, from her impression of Jack Warwick, that if there had been one, he must have been the pursuer, possibly at a vulnerable time surrounding her mother's death. Elizabeth would
<><><>
Maggie had been tossing and turning in her bed for so long that she finally gave up and threw back the tangled covers. Not wanting to wake Dyna in case she had managed to fall asleep, she found her robe in the dark and tip-toed down the winding staircase, thinking she might have some of Dyna's caffeine-free herbal tea. They had shared a somber dinner earlier, and Maggie tried with little success to work afterward.
Rob had called , and she had been happy to hear his voice and glad of the distraction. She listened to his enthusiastic descriptions of his work at the tennis camp, letting herself be lulled by what sounded like a much simpler life in the Florida sunshine. When he asked about her activities, though, she told him only of her afternoon skiing and the start of her book.
After she hung up she had a twinge of uneasiness. She hadn't been completely open with him. She tried telling herself it was only because she didn't know the whole story yet, and that it was no use telling him things in bits and pieces. But the uneasiness, along with thoughts of Elizabeth, had kept her from sleep.
Turning on just one small light in the kitchen, Maggie heated up a mugful of water in the microwave, catching the timer before it ping ed . She let the tea bag steep for a minute or two, then cradled the fragrant concoction between her hands and wandered over to the sliding glass doors. With no clouds covering it, the moon cast enough brightness on the snowy outdoors to give a clear view of the woods across the road, and Maggie gazed at them, her mind busy.
Things looked bad for Elizabeth, and when more information came out they might look worse. John Severin struck Maggie as an intelligent man. She didn't think he would make baseless decisions. He must have had good cause to search the bookstore and Elizabeth's living quarters, something other than gossip, and good reason to take Elizabeth in.
But Elizabeth wasn't a murderer. Maggie felt sure of that. Her thoughts flew back to the Elizabeth she had known so many years ago:
"Betsy, look, there's a hawk circling. I bet he's zeroing in on his prey, like Mrs. Jackson was telling us."
"Oh, I hope he doesn't get it!" Betsy had said.
"He has to eat, silly . That's how he gets his food."
"I'll feed him. I just don't want him to kill some poor little bird."
And the girls had laughed, Maggie along with them, at th e image of Betsy trying to paci fy a hungry hawk with the camp's hot dogs.
Then there was the rescue of the Daddy Longlegs that Maggie had remembered in the book shop, something Elizabeth apparently was still doing, even with spiders. Most people were revolted by spiders, especially indoors. Elizabeth hovered over them.
And Elizabeth had cared for her ailing mother, even foregoing college to do that , something that clearly was a sacrifice. Could someone this selfless be a murderer?
Elizabeth had been flustered when Maggie brought up Jack Warwick, but that might have been only because of their past relationship - if they truly had an affair - and not necessarily guilt over his murder. Maggie suspected that Elizabeth was one of those people who agonized over things that others could rationalize away, things much less portentous than murder.
As far as the affair that Annette seemed so sure of, Maggie thought, from her impression of Jack Warwick, that if there had been one, he must have been the pursuer, possibly at a vulnerable time surrounding her mother's death. Elizabeth would
Similar Books
