Read Online Death by Tiara by Laura Levine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laura Levine
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handyman.
To: Jausten
From: Shoptillyoudrop
Subject: Gorgeous Dress!
Hi, Sweetheart!
I’m back from Pink Flamingo with my dress for the fashion show, and it’s absolutely gorgeous! As nice as anything I’ve ever seen on the shopping channel. A white silk top with bateau neck and peplum waist over a black pencil skirt. Unfortunately, thanks to that fudge I ate the other night, it’s a wee bit tight round the peplum waist.
I absolutely must lose five pounds in time for the fashion show. Time to get rid of all the sweets in the house. I’ll put everything in the freezer out in the garage. We had it padlocked last year after a raccoon clawed it open and ran off with our hamburger meat. Honestly, those raccoons are brazen little critters, aren’t they?
I’ll have Daddy change the combination on the lock so I can’t possibly open it.
Instant weight loss guaranteed!
Tata for now—
Your about-to-be-much-thinner,
Mom
To: Jausten
From: DaddyO
Subject: A Guy Just Can’t Win
Dearest Lambchop—
It looks like Mom’s on one of her crazy diets again. She just stored all our desserts in the freezer in the garage and had me change the combination on the lock. She made me promise not to tell her the combination no matter how much she begged and pleaded. I give her less than 24 hours before she starts begging and pleading. Then she’ll get mad at me if I don’t tell her. And even madder if I do.
A guy just can’t win around here.
You know I adore your mom, Lambchop, but I have to confess sometimes she can go a little nuts. Luckily there’s at least one sane member in this family.
Well, gotta go and rub baby oil on Nellybelle’s carburetor.
Love and hugs from
Daddy
Chapter 8
I slept badly that night, plagued by ghastly dreams, no doubt induced by the M&M’s I’d inhaled before climbing into bed.
I was in the middle of a particularly harrowing nightmare where Ma Willis was chasing me around her dining room table with a giant bottle of cabernet, when I was jolted awake by what sounded like a jackhammer on my ceiling.
Was it possible the Amada Inn was actually doing construction work directly over my room?
When I called the front desk to complain, a weary clerk explained that it was just one of the pageant contestants practicing her tap dancing.
“I’ve been getting complaints all morning,” he said.
“Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
“Sorry, ma’am. No way am I messing with a pageant mom. Not without a stun gun.”
I hung up with a sigh and turned to see Prozac lolling on the pillow, which she’d been hogging all night.
“I’m glad one of us slept well,” I snapped. “In case you’re interested, my neck is stiff as a board.”
If I expected any sympathy, I was sadly mistaken. All my tale of woe elicited was a ginormous yawn.
Yeah, right, whatever. So when do we eat?
Then she leaped on my chest, yowling at the top of her lungs, clawing me for her breakfast.
It was then that I looked around and realized Lance had forgotten to bring cat food.
Damn that man!
I hauled myself out of bed and was just about to get dressed when my phone rang. It was the clerk down at the front desk.
“Can you please keep your cat quiet?” he said, rather snootily. “The people in the next room are complaining.”
Oh, great. Pageant moms with prima donna teens were off limits. But lowly writers with prima donna cats were fair game. I certainly hoped the Amada Inn didn’t expect to get five stars on Yelp from yours truly.
After throwing on some jeans and a T-shirt, I headed down to the lobby to get Prozac some chow from the breakfast buffet.
Between my stiff neck, my tap-dancing neighbor, and that irritating call from the front desk, I must admit I was not in the sunniest of moods. But I perked up considerably when I saw the breakfast spread: scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, Danish, and delightfully gooey sticky buns.
I was dying
To: Jausten
From: Shoptillyoudrop
Subject: Gorgeous Dress!
Hi, Sweetheart!
I’m back from Pink Flamingo with my dress for the fashion show, and it’s absolutely gorgeous! As nice as anything I’ve ever seen on the shopping channel. A white silk top with bateau neck and peplum waist over a black pencil skirt. Unfortunately, thanks to that fudge I ate the other night, it’s a wee bit tight round the peplum waist.
I absolutely must lose five pounds in time for the fashion show. Time to get rid of all the sweets in the house. I’ll put everything in the freezer out in the garage. We had it padlocked last year after a raccoon clawed it open and ran off with our hamburger meat. Honestly, those raccoons are brazen little critters, aren’t they?
I’ll have Daddy change the combination on the lock so I can’t possibly open it.
Instant weight loss guaranteed!
Tata for now—
Your about-to-be-much-thinner,
Mom
To: Jausten
From: DaddyO
Subject: A Guy Just Can’t Win
Dearest Lambchop—
It looks like Mom’s on one of her crazy diets again. She just stored all our desserts in the freezer in the garage and had me change the combination on the lock. She made me promise not to tell her the combination no matter how much she begged and pleaded. I give her less than 24 hours before she starts begging and pleading. Then she’ll get mad at me if I don’t tell her. And even madder if I do.
A guy just can’t win around here.
You know I adore your mom, Lambchop, but I have to confess sometimes she can go a little nuts. Luckily there’s at least one sane member in this family.
Well, gotta go and rub baby oil on Nellybelle’s carburetor.
Love and hugs from
Daddy
Chapter 8
I slept badly that night, plagued by ghastly dreams, no doubt induced by the M&M’s I’d inhaled before climbing into bed.
I was in the middle of a particularly harrowing nightmare where Ma Willis was chasing me around her dining room table with a giant bottle of cabernet, when I was jolted awake by what sounded like a jackhammer on my ceiling.
Was it possible the Amada Inn was actually doing construction work directly over my room?
When I called the front desk to complain, a weary clerk explained that it was just one of the pageant contestants practicing her tap dancing.
“I’ve been getting complaints all morning,” he said.
“Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
“Sorry, ma’am. No way am I messing with a pageant mom. Not without a stun gun.”
I hung up with a sigh and turned to see Prozac lolling on the pillow, which she’d been hogging all night.
“I’m glad one of us slept well,” I snapped. “In case you’re interested, my neck is stiff as a board.”
If I expected any sympathy, I was sadly mistaken. All my tale of woe elicited was a ginormous yawn.
Yeah, right, whatever. So when do we eat?
Then she leaped on my chest, yowling at the top of her lungs, clawing me for her breakfast.
It was then that I looked around and realized Lance had forgotten to bring cat food.
Damn that man!
I hauled myself out of bed and was just about to get dressed when my phone rang. It was the clerk down at the front desk.
“Can you please keep your cat quiet?” he said, rather snootily. “The people in the next room are complaining.”
Oh, great. Pageant moms with prima donna teens were off limits. But lowly writers with prima donna cats were fair game. I certainly hoped the Amada Inn didn’t expect to get five stars on Yelp from yours truly.
After throwing on some jeans and a T-shirt, I headed down to the lobby to get Prozac some chow from the breakfast buffet.
Between my stiff neck, my tap-dancing neighbor, and that irritating call from the front desk, I must admit I was not in the sunniest of moods. But I perked up considerably when I saw the breakfast spread: scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, Danish, and delightfully gooey sticky buns.
I was dying
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