Read Online Arsenic and Old Cake by Jacklyn Brady - Free Book Online Page A

They’re mostly friends from way back. Nice enough, for the most part. But don’t let them bother you none. They give you any trouble at all, you let me or Hyacinth know.” She stopped, tilted her head to one side, and corrected herself. “Let me know. Hyacinth doesn’t like to be bothered with such things.” She sobered slightly and asked, “That’s not a problem, is it? Should I tell them to stay away?”
    “Of course not,” I said quickly. “They live here, and I’m sure we’ll enjoy meeting them.”
    I was intrigued by the idea of a group of old coots living in the inn. Was Monroe one of the Love Nest’s longtime residents, or was he on staff? Maybe Primrose and Hyacinth knew about his connection to Old Dog Leg. Were the three of them working together to scam him?
    Primrose let out a little sigh and moved on again. “I think Hyacinth told you about breakfast. If you have any special dietary needs, let one of us know and we’ll do our best to accommodate. We have parking for guests behind the house, and you’re welcome to spend time in the garden if you’d like. Not that we expect to see much of you while you’re here. We all understand. We were all young once.”
    I stood, uncomfortable on that bed in the wake of Primrose’s insinuations. “I do have one question,” I said to her. “Where’s the TV?”
    She looked aghast. “There isn’t one, of course. What would be the point?”
    Right. No point whatsoever.
    “If you really need a television,” she said, her voice clouded with disapproval, “you’re welcome to use the community set in the parlor. We turn it on at six in the morning, and it goes off at eleven every night. But people around here have their routines, so you may have to watch what they’re watching.”
    Old reruns of Bonanza or Kojak ?No thanks.
    Gabriel came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m sure we can find some way to entertain ourselves.” He nuzzled my neck, making me seriously reconsider my commitment to the whole platonic thing.
    Primrose giggled like a young girl and turned toward the door. “You’re a lucky woman, Mrs. Broussard.”
    Yeah. Wasn’t I, though? “Call me Rita. Please.”
    “Of course. If there’s anything else the two of you need, just press zero on the house phone,” Primrose said. “One of us will bring it right up.”
    Yeah. Like I was going to have those old ladies running up and down the stairs on my account.
    She finally let herself out into the hallway and closed the door with a soft click .
    I waited until I heard her footsteps recede before I wriggled out of Gabriel’s embrace. “She’s gone,” I said, keeping my voice low just in case. “We can stop playacting now.”
    Gabriel pretended to be disappointed. “Wouldn’t it be better to stay in character while we’re here? I wouldn’t want to slip up.”
    I stuck out my tongue. “Nice try . . . but no.” I walked into the bathroom, determined to put some distance between us. I could still hear him laughing, even after I closed and locked the door behind me.

Seven
    Gabriel and I were no closer to an agreement on how to proceed when we left our room at five o’clock to go to the cocktail party. He practically skipped down the stairs, eagerly anticipating an adventure. I followed more slowly, unsure about whether we’d be able to plug all the holes in our story and nervous about having to lie. When I was a kid, my aunt Yolanda and uncle Nestor had drilled into me and my cousins the importance of telling the truth. I’d taken the lessons to heart—mostly. Oh, sure, I could omit unnecessary information without hesitation if the occasion demanded. And I was pretty good at justifying those omissions using shades of gray. But outright lying shot straight out of the gray area and into the sin zone, which made me more than a little uncomfortable.
    My mind raced with questions I couldn’t answer. What would we say when we met the man who called himself