Read Online Bartholomew 02 - How to Marry a Ghost by Hope McIntyre - Free Book Online Page A

and some of her lipstick came off on Eliza’s forehead as the woman raised her and kissed her briefly.
    “You’re a little treasure, aren’t you?” She snapped her fingers at the package of baby wipes my clumsy fingers were trying to open. She plucked several from the wad and went to work, expertly wiping all around Eliza’s little pink bottom. “You’re a little darling, yes you are.What are you, six months? Maybe eight?”
    She turned to me and I said quickly, “Oh, she’s not mine. She’s Franny’s.”
    “And you’re English,” said the woman. “Here, take this.” She handed me the dirty diaper. “Take it outside and bury it or something.”
    I found a garbage can around the back of the store. When I

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    returned, Eliza was sitting on the edge of the counter in just her fresh diaper, banging her little heels against the side and chortling as the woman held her hands and brought them together as if to clap.
    Suddenly I noticed that the urn was no longer where it had been. The woman had moved it to stand beside her purse.
    “You’re Angela Marriott,” I blurted out, and then, because I had to say something: “I’m so sorry about your son.”
    “So am I,” she said and choked. I noticed tears were running down her face below the dark glasses. “This baby—when Sean was a baby, he was so”—she took a deep breath—“adorable.
    Here, you take her now. I’m going to crack up completely if I spend much more time with her. So who are you, anyway?”
    Her tone was a little abrupt but it was understandable under the circumstances. I felt at a disadvantage because I couldn’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses. I couldn’t read her expression or how she was reacting to me but I knew I had to grab this opportunity with Shotgun Marriott’s ex-wife. I’d have to wing it a little because I knew next to nothing about her.They’d been separated for about fourteen years and the press clippings on Shotgun that I’d studied in a tearing rush before leaving London had focused mostly on his career rather than his personal life. Even so, there was something oddly familiar about her and I had the distinct feeling that maybe I’d met her somewhere before.
    “I’m Lee Bartholomew. I’m minding the store for Franny—
    and the baby, as you can see. And I can’t thank you enough for rescuing me there. Actually, it’s a bit of a coincidence meeting you like this because I’m in America to work with your ex-husband.”
    She took off her glasses and stared at me for a few seconds.
    “What are you doing with Kip?”
    “Kip?”

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    “Well, you don’t think he was born ‘Shotgun,’ do you? His name’s Christopher. ‘Kip’ for short. But I think probably only his family calls him that.”
    “Oh. I’m going to be helping him with his autobiography. I’m a ghostwriter.”
    “Are—you—really?” She said it slowly and she leaned forward as if to take a closer look at me. “You’re going to take over from the woman who was murdered?”
    Eliza reacted at the sudden sharpness of Angela Marriott’s tone and her little face puckered. There was a pause while we waited to see if she would cry.When she didn’t, Angela repeated in a whisper, “Murdered. Just like my son.”
    “What?” I couldn’t believe what she’d just said. “I thought he drowned—that it was an accident.” I saw her mouth begin to crumple. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t want to put you through this.”
    She had gone white and she was shaking but she managed a faint smile.
    “It’s okay. I need to talk about it. Yes, you’re right, his body was pulled out of the water but before that he was shot and his killer cleaned him up, dressed him in a wedding dress, and threw him in the bay. Underneath that dress there was a gaping hole the size of a dinner plate in his chest. Have you any idea what a shotgun can do to you?”
    I shook my head and I was pretty thrown by her question. Did