Read Online Angora Alibi by Sally Goldenbaum - Free Book Online Page B

and old leather chairs near the stone fireplace. The casement
     windows above the window seat were open wide, bringing in gusts of salty air that
     ruffled napkins and sent Izzy over to close them partway. “There’s a storm coming
     in,” she said, looking up at a parade of clouds racing across the sky.
    “Not a serious one. Just some nice rain for the flowers,” Birdie said. “Harold’s arthritic
     bones are the best weather predictor in the world. He says this will pass over with
     little damage, but we might want to bring the trash cans inside.”
    “A groundskeeper with telepathic bones,” Cass said. “Only Birdie could have found
     such a man.”
    Before anyone else had a chance to chime in on Birdie’s amazing household staff, a
     booming noise from the alley sent a framed print of Gloucester Harbor falling to the
     floor.
    “My Homer Winslow print,” Izzy cried, pushing herself up from the chair.
    “Thunder?” Cass wondered.
    But it was coming from the alley, not the sky.
    Izzy reached the side door first and flung it open. A distraught Janie Levin stood
     in the alley, staring at the ground. Behind her, packed full of boxes and chairs and
     knickknacks, was Tommy’s pickup truck.
    But it was what was in front of her that caused Izzy to rush over to her side. “Janie!
     Are you okay? What happened?”
    Inches from where she stood, the remains of a large packing box, mangled and open,
     lay on the ground. And scattered as far as the eye could see were shards of colorful
     pottery.
    In answer to Izzy’s question, Janie looked up the steps leading to her new apartment.
    Standing at the top of the outdoor staircase, just outside the apartment door, was
     Justin Dorsey, a torn flap of cardboard dangling from one hand.
    “It slipped,” he said. “I was trying to open the door.”
    Janie fought hard for composure. “I’m sorry for the mess, Izzy. Tommy let me use his
     truck to move some things into the apartment. Justin showed up to help, and then . . .”
     Her voice broke.
    “What lovely pottery,” Birdie said, bending over and picking up a hand-painted piece.
    Janie bent down beside Birdie and began scooping up the larger pieces, placing them
     in an empty box. She held one in her hand, looking at it as if imagining it whole.
     “I’ll make a mural with the pieces. A coffee table or mirror, maybe,” she murmured,
     more to herself than those around her. Then she looked up from the mess and pushed
     a smile in place. “Everything is from garage sales. Nothing matched. It’ll be okay.”
    “The real problem would have been if the box had landed on you,” Nell said. Her frown
     was aimed up at Justin. “That wouldn’t have been okay.”
    Justin looked sheepish and took a few steps down. “I’ll buy you more, Janie. Promise.
     And no more garage sale stuff. You deserve better. Quality stuff . . .” He pointed
     to a patch of alleyway nearly hidden by the Dumpster. A shiny motorcycle leaned against
     it. “Like that.”
    Janie looked over and frowned. “What’s that?”
    “It’s a Honda. A used one, but so, like, cool. Like it? I’m trying it out. Gotta get
     it back tomorrow.”
    “Trying it out?” Janie asked, the mountain of broken pottery forgotten. She stared
     at the bike.
    The question was answered with a shrug, and Nell watched Janie’s frown deepen as her
     look passed from the bike to Justin and back again.
    Cass walked over and looked at it. “I’m not an expert, but it looks like a nice bike,
     Justin. Not cheap, but very cool.”
    Justin reached the bottom of the stairs and stood with his hands shoved into the pockets
     of his jeans. He beamed at Cass’ words. “Yeah, I think I might buy it.”
    “Hey, folks.” Tommy Porter walked down the alley and wrapped an arm around Janie’s
     shoulders, pulling her close and missing the look of consternation on her face. “Got
     here as soon as I could, babe. Crazy day at the station, and I had to change