Read Online Classified as Murder by Miranda James - Free Book Online Page A

guest for tea this afternoon. Actually two guests,” Mr. Delacorte said with a brief smile. “This is Mr. Charles Harris. He’s a librarian at Athena College, and he also works at the public library, where he has often been of great help to me.”
    “I thought you looked familiar.” Stewart Delacorte nodded. “I must have seen you on campus. I’m an associate professor in the chemistry department.”
    Before I could respond, James Delacorte continued. “That is my late brother Arthur’s grandson, Stewart. And next to him is my brother Thomas’s granddaughter, Cynthia.”
    Cynthia inclined her head in regal fashion, but her eyes indicated her complete lack of interest in me and Diesel.
    Mr. Delacorte went on with his introductions. “Eloise you’ve met. My nephew, Hubert, her husband, and my sister, Daphne, Hubert’s mother.”
    “Good afternoon, everyone,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’d like to introduce my friend here.” I rubbed Diesel’s head. “This is Diesel. He’s a Maine coon, and he’s almost three years old.”
    Daphne Morris left off rubbing her forehead and stared at Diesel in obvious fascination. “That’s a cat?” Her voice was not much above a whisper.
    “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Maine coons are pretty large. Diesel is actually larger than average for the breed.”
    Eloise spoke then, rustling her skirts about her. “I really do think China tea is superior to Indian. I can’t abide Darjeeling, but I do adore Lapsang souchong.”
    “Shut up, Eloise. No one cares what kind of tea you like.” Hubert’s voice, high and thin, startled me with its vicious tone.
    Daphne practically moaned her words as she resumed rubbing her forehead. “Hubert, darling, please. My head aches so terribly today. Don’t make it worse.”
    Stewart’s deep voice rumbled as he shot a glance of pure vitriol at Hubert. “Dearest Aunt, don’t pay any attention to silly Hubert. You know he yells at poor Eloise just to annoy us all.”
    “What about that nineteen-year-old I saw you with the other night?” Hubert twisted in his seat to glare at Stewart. “It’s far worse than silly—it’s disgusting. Do his parents know he’s carrying on with a man twice his age? You make me sick.”
    Both Diesel and I shrank back from the unpleasant scene unfolding before us. Diesel got behind me, and I was ready to bolt from the room. These people had no boundaries, talking about things like this in front of a stranger.
    Eloise started singing, Stewart yelled something back at Hubert, and Daphne moaned even louder.
    I gazed on in horrified fascination until I heard a strangled gasp from Mr. Delacorte.
    His face was red, and he struggled to breathe. He clutched at his chest, and I was afraid he was having a heart attack.

SEVEN

    I moved to assist Mr. Delacorte, but Cynthia pushed me out of the way. I stumbled backward and grabbed the mantel for support. She was a nurse, I remembered, from Helen Louise’s conversation about the family. I was relieved to have a professional intercede.
    Cynthia reached inside Mr. Delacorte’s jacket pocket and withdrew a small bottle. She quickly opened it and shook out a tiny pill into her palm. She thrust it into his mouth under his tongue and stood back as she replaced the cap.
    He labored for breath for a moment, but gradually he relaxed, and his face resumed a more normal color. Cynthia took his arm and led him to the sofa occupied by Hubert. Mr. Delacorte nodded up at her, and she stepped back.
    “Thank you, Cynthia,” he said, his voice not quite steady.
    Truesdale appeared then—had one of the family summoned him?—and offered his employer a glass of water. Mr. Delacorte smiled briefly before he sipped at the water. Truesdale watched, his concern obvious. Cynthia resumed her seat near Stewart.
    I felt rather awkward through all this, and poor Diesel remained behind my legs. I found a chair near Daphne’s sofa and sat. Diesel put both front paws on my legs,