Read Online Blown To Pieces (PTO Murder Club Mystery Book 2) by Katie Graykowski - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katie Graykowski
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wobbled, but he held onto it. “Monica...so good to see you.”
He walked to her with his hand out ready for shaking.
“Is it...really...good to see me?” She pumped his hand once and dropped it.
Be bitchy from the start and set the tone—Monica was in it to win it.
“Yes.” He squatted down to Landon. “Hey, big guy.”
“Is it true?” Landon grinned. “Two kinds of cake?”
Man after my own heart.
“You bet.” Ben came to stand by me. He looked like he was debating about whether to hug me hello.
I took a step back, and his face fell. Did he really think we were going to pick up where we’d left off?
Ben turned to Max. “So glad you came over. I’ve got the Xbox all warmed up and ready.”
“Cool.” Max grinned, but I could tell he was faking it. Of course I hadn’t told Max our house had been bugged, but he knew something was wrong between Ben and me.
Kids always know.
Ben was so eager to impress. “And I’ve been learning Minecraft. Maybe you could give me some pointers?”
Max’s face lit up for real, and he leaned forward as if Minecraft were magnetically pulling him closer to the house.
“You have Minecraft?” Landon forgot all about his mother and headed toward the front door. Apparently, Minecraft was a kid tractor beam. In fact, it beat out Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny for best thing in the world. Sorry, EB, but you’ve got to do better than some crappy old eggs to compete with Minecraft.
“By all means, come in.” Ben gestured grandly to the open front door.
We all played Frogger—jumping from limestone slab to limestone slab—to get to the front door. What happened to plain old concrete sidewalks? Clearly, the rich like aesthetically pleasing disconnected walkways.
Inside the chrome front doors, there was nothing but perfectly decorated house. Lots of the white limestone used outside had made it inside as well. The living room was all clean lines, off-white furniture, and wood—but nothing standard like oak or maple. I was willing to bet the wooden slats on the ceiling and floors were something exotic, expensive, and endangered. Thanks to Ben’s architect, somewhere there was a treeshrew without a tree to shrew in.
This was a room that was all about being photographed instead of lived in. No one with children had off-white furniture. Well, no one with kids had off-white furniture for long. At the back of the living room, floor-to-ceiling windows framed a stark, rectilinear pool surrounded by lush grass. I’d always liked swimming pools that fit into the landscape. This one just looked like a blue hole in the ground...still, it was better than the pool I owned—which was to say that I didn’t own one. I did force myself to use the year-round heated one at Astrid’s, but I counted that as hazard pay since usually I had to share it with her.
We walked into a huge kitchen full of stainless steel and windows overlooking Lake Travis.
“Wow. This is nice.” Monica’s bitch was slipping. I was disappointed; she’s better than that. “Is that a Viking TVR4806BSS?” From the tone of her voice, I was expecting either the Shroud of Turin or Elvis’s bejeweled white jumpsuit.
I followed her line of sight. The Viking Whatever was a stove—with burners and knobs, just like every other stove. Maybe this one was robotic and did the cooking? Personally, I’m holding out for one of those food replicators from Star Trek . NASA really needed to stop sending probes out and get on that.
All eyes turned to me. Apparently, I wasn’t oohing and aahing enough about the kitchen. “It’s um...” What was I supposed to say? “Very um...clean and you have um...” I looked around for something to comment on. “...A very big refrigerator.”
Nice save, if I do say so myself.
“You have to excuse Mustang. She’s a terrible cook. She stores clean sheets and towels in her kitchen cabinets.” Monica didn’t just throw me under the bus, she jumped into the
He walked to her with his hand out ready for shaking.
“Is it...really...good to see me?” She pumped his hand once and dropped it.
Be bitchy from the start and set the tone—Monica was in it to win it.
“Yes.” He squatted down to Landon. “Hey, big guy.”
“Is it true?” Landon grinned. “Two kinds of cake?”
Man after my own heart.
“You bet.” Ben came to stand by me. He looked like he was debating about whether to hug me hello.
I took a step back, and his face fell. Did he really think we were going to pick up where we’d left off?
Ben turned to Max. “So glad you came over. I’ve got the Xbox all warmed up and ready.”
“Cool.” Max grinned, but I could tell he was faking it. Of course I hadn’t told Max our house had been bugged, but he knew something was wrong between Ben and me.
Kids always know.
Ben was so eager to impress. “And I’ve been learning Minecraft. Maybe you could give me some pointers?”
Max’s face lit up for real, and he leaned forward as if Minecraft were magnetically pulling him closer to the house.
“You have Minecraft?” Landon forgot all about his mother and headed toward the front door. Apparently, Minecraft was a kid tractor beam. In fact, it beat out Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny for best thing in the world. Sorry, EB, but you’ve got to do better than some crappy old eggs to compete with Minecraft.
“By all means, come in.” Ben gestured grandly to the open front door.
We all played Frogger—jumping from limestone slab to limestone slab—to get to the front door. What happened to plain old concrete sidewalks? Clearly, the rich like aesthetically pleasing disconnected walkways.
Inside the chrome front doors, there was nothing but perfectly decorated house. Lots of the white limestone used outside had made it inside as well. The living room was all clean lines, off-white furniture, and wood—but nothing standard like oak or maple. I was willing to bet the wooden slats on the ceiling and floors were something exotic, expensive, and endangered. Thanks to Ben’s architect, somewhere there was a treeshrew without a tree to shrew in.
This was a room that was all about being photographed instead of lived in. No one with children had off-white furniture. Well, no one with kids had off-white furniture for long. At the back of the living room, floor-to-ceiling windows framed a stark, rectilinear pool surrounded by lush grass. I’d always liked swimming pools that fit into the landscape. This one just looked like a blue hole in the ground...still, it was better than the pool I owned—which was to say that I didn’t own one. I did force myself to use the year-round heated one at Astrid’s, but I counted that as hazard pay since usually I had to share it with her.
We walked into a huge kitchen full of stainless steel and windows overlooking Lake Travis.
“Wow. This is nice.” Monica’s bitch was slipping. I was disappointed; she’s better than that. “Is that a Viking TVR4806BSS?” From the tone of her voice, I was expecting either the Shroud of Turin or Elvis’s bejeweled white jumpsuit.
I followed her line of sight. The Viking Whatever was a stove—with burners and knobs, just like every other stove. Maybe this one was robotic and did the cooking? Personally, I’m holding out for one of those food replicators from Star Trek . NASA really needed to stop sending probes out and get on that.
All eyes turned to me. Apparently, I wasn’t oohing and aahing enough about the kitchen. “It’s um...” What was I supposed to say? “Very um...clean and you have um...” I looked around for something to comment on. “...A very big refrigerator.”
Nice save, if I do say so myself.
“You have to excuse Mustang. She’s a terrible cook. She stores clean sheets and towels in her kitchen cabinets.” Monica didn’t just throw me under the bus, she jumped into the
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