Read Online Cake and Taxes: A Yellow Rose Cozy Mystery (Yellow Rose Mystery Series Book 2) by K. P. Hilton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: K. P. Hilton
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Animals, cozy, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Amateur Sleuths
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of dominoes, you expand to checkers?”
Betty laughed. “That's an expansion I think I can handle.”
The storefront door opened again and two women stepped in. One was pale and immediately sat at one of the nearby tables. The other sat opposite her and repeatedly told her everything was going to be all right.
Betty and Martin looked at each other and then at the women, taken aback at the abruptness of their entrance.
A few seconds later, the second woman said, “I'm sorry for the intrusion. But my friend just received word that someone she knows was found dead in her car at work.”
“No apologies needed,” Betty said. “I'm so sorry. What happened?”
“I got a call from my friend at the appraisal district,” the first woman said. “One of the employees there, Marge Nelson, was found dead in her car.”
Betty took in a deep breath. “Oh, my goodness,” she said.
“Apparently, she was found in the district's parking lot,” Fred said. “Shot twice. Once in the head. Once in the chest.” He looked up from his cell phone to the stunned faces of the people around him.
“Umm, according to the social media site I'm reading from, anyway. Nothing official from the news sites,” he added quietly.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Betty decided to drive over to see Tom Nelson and offer her respects on the passing of his wife and see how he was holding up. Tom lived on Abbott Circle on the east side of town. Traffic was usual, meaning light. Fortunately, Betty didn't have far to go.
The day was turning warm and clouds melted into the horizon. Mature landscaping, punctuated by large trees, dotted the landscape of the neighborhood. The homes were single-family residences owned chiefly by professionals.
Betty made several more turns and found the Nelson house. It was a large red brick home with a well-maintained yard. She drove through the open wrought iron gate and parked to the side on the circular drive. The housekeeper met her at the door and asked her to follow her down a lengthy hallway. The home's interior had high ceilings with multiple wet bars, French doors, and built-in bookcases.
They arrived at the office where Tom Nelson was working. He was a rugged man with a strong jawline and brown hair interspersed with flecks of gray. He wore an open-collared shirt with dark trousers. The top of his desk held stacks of paper so high they almost obscured his face. A large cup with mechanical pencils and erasers sat perched to his left. He nodded when the housekeeper announced Betty and continued working, staring at the screen on his computer.
After waiting for several moments, Betty tapped lightly on the door frame.
“Hope I'm not taking you away from something important,” Betty said, nodding at the computer.
Tom gave a wan smile. “Finishing up some business,” he said. He got up and gave Betty a light hug before returning to his seat and motioning Betty to a blue leather chair.
The housekeeper arrived with a tray, a covered container that gave off a rich aroma, and a pair of ornate cups.
“Coffee?” Tom asked.
“Half a cup. Black. Still working off breakfast.” Betty never knew quite what to say to someone who'd suffered the loss of a loved one. Over the years, she'd found it best to simply be there and let them direct the conversation if they were inclined to talk.
“Used to drink it that way myself years ago,” Tom said, pouring. “Need something a little sweeter nowadays, though.”
“Enjoy a good sugar rush myself, but it’s the caffeine that helps me through the day. ‘Coffee in the morning, Diet Coke in the afternoon.’ Refrain from a song recorded in the seventies.”
“Jackson Browne,” Tom said. “Except that it was cocaine, not soda he was singing about.”
Betty nodded. “Didn’t know you listened to music from that era.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I've listened
Betty laughed. “That's an expansion I think I can handle.”
The storefront door opened again and two women stepped in. One was pale and immediately sat at one of the nearby tables. The other sat opposite her and repeatedly told her everything was going to be all right.
Betty and Martin looked at each other and then at the women, taken aback at the abruptness of their entrance.
A few seconds later, the second woman said, “I'm sorry for the intrusion. But my friend just received word that someone she knows was found dead in her car at work.”
“No apologies needed,” Betty said. “I'm so sorry. What happened?”
“I got a call from my friend at the appraisal district,” the first woman said. “One of the employees there, Marge Nelson, was found dead in her car.”
Betty took in a deep breath. “Oh, my goodness,” she said.
“Apparently, she was found in the district's parking lot,” Fred said. “Shot twice. Once in the head. Once in the chest.” He looked up from his cell phone to the stunned faces of the people around him.
“Umm, according to the social media site I'm reading from, anyway. Nothing official from the news sites,” he added quietly.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Betty decided to drive over to see Tom Nelson and offer her respects on the passing of his wife and see how he was holding up. Tom lived on Abbott Circle on the east side of town. Traffic was usual, meaning light. Fortunately, Betty didn't have far to go.
The day was turning warm and clouds melted into the horizon. Mature landscaping, punctuated by large trees, dotted the landscape of the neighborhood. The homes were single-family residences owned chiefly by professionals.
Betty made several more turns and found the Nelson house. It was a large red brick home with a well-maintained yard. She drove through the open wrought iron gate and parked to the side on the circular drive. The housekeeper met her at the door and asked her to follow her down a lengthy hallway. The home's interior had high ceilings with multiple wet bars, French doors, and built-in bookcases.
They arrived at the office where Tom Nelson was working. He was a rugged man with a strong jawline and brown hair interspersed with flecks of gray. He wore an open-collared shirt with dark trousers. The top of his desk held stacks of paper so high they almost obscured his face. A large cup with mechanical pencils and erasers sat perched to his left. He nodded when the housekeeper announced Betty and continued working, staring at the screen on his computer.
After waiting for several moments, Betty tapped lightly on the door frame.
“Hope I'm not taking you away from something important,” Betty said, nodding at the computer.
Tom gave a wan smile. “Finishing up some business,” he said. He got up and gave Betty a light hug before returning to his seat and motioning Betty to a blue leather chair.
The housekeeper arrived with a tray, a covered container that gave off a rich aroma, and a pair of ornate cups.
“Coffee?” Tom asked.
“Half a cup. Black. Still working off breakfast.” Betty never knew quite what to say to someone who'd suffered the loss of a loved one. Over the years, she'd found it best to simply be there and let them direct the conversation if they were inclined to talk.
“Used to drink it that way myself years ago,” Tom said, pouring. “Need something a little sweeter nowadays, though.”
“Enjoy a good sugar rush myself, but it’s the caffeine that helps me through the day. ‘Coffee in the morning, Diet Coke in the afternoon.’ Refrain from a song recorded in the seventies.”
“Jackson Browne,” Tom said. “Except that it was cocaine, not soda he was singing about.”
Betty nodded. “Didn’t know you listened to music from that era.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I've listened
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