Read Online A Zest for Murder (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 5) by Mary Maxwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Maxwell
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he was thinking about taking up
skeet shooting.”
“Didn’t he take out the neighbor’s
kitchen window the day he bought his equipment?”
She chuckled at the memory. “My
point entirely. Not to mention that we’ve already booked the plane tickets.”
“I didn’t know you guys were going
to California.”
“I planned to tell you kids,” my
mother said. “But then your father started going on about bocce ball and
Rosemary Beach and how I’m denying him the opportunity to learn something new
at his age.”
“He’s not that old.”
“You’re preaching to the choir
there, Katie. I tell him the same thing every morning when he’s drinking his
laxative and taking his baby aspirin and—”
“Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Can I ask you a question about
something?”
“Does it involve bocce ball?”
I laughed. “No, I wanted to ask you
about the Flanagans. They’re the family that used to live in that house on
Hanover that my friend Tipper bought about three years ago.”
“Dell and Hannah?”
“Yes,” I said. “And they had two
boys, right?”
“Well, I’d say one boy and one
hellion. That Dermot was always getting into trouble—at school, at church,
during summer camp. I remember one time when you were maybe eight or nine; it
was the year that your sister broke her leg ice skating. Anyway, Dermot took a
can of lighter fluid and a box of matches out to the shed in their backyard. He
threatened to burn it down if his parents didn’t buy him a new skateboard like
his best friend had.”
“What happened?”
My mother snickered. “What do you
think happened? He was grounded for a week.”
“So…no skateboard?”
She laughed again. “Not until he
stole one from Anderson’s.”
“He really was a hellion,” I said.
“Still is, according to Hannah’s
last email. He’s been living in Albuquerque, shacked up with some girl and
barely holding down a job for more than a couple of weeks. His brother had to
fly in from Boston to bail Dermot out of jail about three months ago.”
“For what?”
“Assault and disturbing the peace,”
my mother said. “He ate forty-two dollars worth of food at a diner and then
left without paying the bill. When the manager followed him into the parking
lot, Dermot took a swing and knocked out the poor guy’s front teeth.”
“That’s horrible,” I said.
“I agree. And who knew that one
person could eat forty-two dollars worth of anything at a diner?”
“You’d be surprised, mother. A
truck driver came into Sky High a couple of days ago and ate four omelets, two
muffins and a slice of Nana Reed’s Perfectly Peachy Blueberry Pie.”
“Oh, was it Tuck Bradshaw?”
“Yep. You remember him?”
She cooed warmly again. “He was one
of my favorite customers, Katie. Sweet and funny; always telling nice stories
about his wife.”
“Ex-wife now,” I said. “And the
stories aren’t so nice anymore.”
My mother sighed. “All things must
pass. I’m sorry to hear that Tuck’s a single guy again.”
I laughed. “He’s not single, mom.
They’re still together. It’s just that Jeannie decided she—”
“Hang on, Katie! Your father’s
hollering from the other room.”
While I waited for my mother to
return, I checked my list. I still needed to go to the bank, buy noisemakers
for a retirement party we were catering and check in with Trent to get the
latest on Tipper.
“Sorry about that, honey,” my
mother said as she came back on the line. “I’ve got to hang up now. Your father
decided we’re going to the Olive Garden to negotiate the final decision on our
trip to California.”
“Well, good luck with that,” I
said. “Tell him I say hi, okay?”
“Of course, Katie. And I’ll also
tell him that you think we should leave our plans alone. The bocce ball thing
is an annual event; he can go next year.”
I didn’t want to engage my mother
in a discussion about using deception to get her way. We’d been down that road
enough
skeet shooting.”
“Didn’t he take out the neighbor’s
kitchen window the day he bought his equipment?”
She chuckled at the memory. “My
point entirely. Not to mention that we’ve already booked the plane tickets.”
“I didn’t know you guys were going
to California.”
“I planned to tell you kids,” my
mother said. “But then your father started going on about bocce ball and
Rosemary Beach and how I’m denying him the opportunity to learn something new
at his age.”
“He’s not that old.”
“You’re preaching to the choir
there, Katie. I tell him the same thing every morning when he’s drinking his
laxative and taking his baby aspirin and—”
“Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Can I ask you a question about
something?”
“Does it involve bocce ball?”
I laughed. “No, I wanted to ask you
about the Flanagans. They’re the family that used to live in that house on
Hanover that my friend Tipper bought about three years ago.”
“Dell and Hannah?”
“Yes,” I said. “And they had two
boys, right?”
“Well, I’d say one boy and one
hellion. That Dermot was always getting into trouble—at school, at church,
during summer camp. I remember one time when you were maybe eight or nine; it
was the year that your sister broke her leg ice skating. Anyway, Dermot took a
can of lighter fluid and a box of matches out to the shed in their backyard. He
threatened to burn it down if his parents didn’t buy him a new skateboard like
his best friend had.”
“What happened?”
My mother snickered. “What do you
think happened? He was grounded for a week.”
“So…no skateboard?”
She laughed again. “Not until he
stole one from Anderson’s.”
“He really was a hellion,” I said.
“Still is, according to Hannah’s
last email. He’s been living in Albuquerque, shacked up with some girl and
barely holding down a job for more than a couple of weeks. His brother had to
fly in from Boston to bail Dermot out of jail about three months ago.”
“For what?”
“Assault and disturbing the peace,”
my mother said. “He ate forty-two dollars worth of food at a diner and then
left without paying the bill. When the manager followed him into the parking
lot, Dermot took a swing and knocked out the poor guy’s front teeth.”
“That’s horrible,” I said.
“I agree. And who knew that one
person could eat forty-two dollars worth of anything at a diner?”
“You’d be surprised, mother. A
truck driver came into Sky High a couple of days ago and ate four omelets, two
muffins and a slice of Nana Reed’s Perfectly Peachy Blueberry Pie.”
“Oh, was it Tuck Bradshaw?”
“Yep. You remember him?”
She cooed warmly again. “He was one
of my favorite customers, Katie. Sweet and funny; always telling nice stories
about his wife.”
“Ex-wife now,” I said. “And the
stories aren’t so nice anymore.”
My mother sighed. “All things must
pass. I’m sorry to hear that Tuck’s a single guy again.”
I laughed. “He’s not single, mom.
They’re still together. It’s just that Jeannie decided she—”
“Hang on, Katie! Your father’s
hollering from the other room.”
While I waited for my mother to
return, I checked my list. I still needed to go to the bank, buy noisemakers
for a retirement party we were catering and check in with Trent to get the
latest on Tipper.
“Sorry about that, honey,” my
mother said as she came back on the line. “I’ve got to hang up now. Your father
decided we’re going to the Olive Garden to negotiate the final decision on our
trip to California.”
“Well, good luck with that,” I
said. “Tell him I say hi, okay?”
“Of course, Katie. And I’ll also
tell him that you think we should leave our plans alone. The bocce ball thing
is an annual event; he can go next year.”
I didn’t want to engage my mother
in a discussion about using deception to get her way. We’d been down that road
enough
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