Read Online Diner Impossible (A Rose Strickland Mystery) by Terri L. Austin - Free Book Online

maid in a black uniform answered. She took our coats and led us through a broad, winding hall painted in a warm terracotta color. Interesting abstracts hung along the walls and I lingered over a few before hurrying to catch up. I didn’t know anything about art, so none of the artists’ names were familiar and some were illegible. Most looked like a child could have painted them, so I knew they were expensive.
    The maid stopped at a room with polished, closed double doors. “Please go in. Mrs. Mathers is expecting you.” Then she retraced her steps.
    Barbara cast her usual withering glare over my wrinkled, long-sleeved blue t-shirt. I tried smoothing it out with my hands which earned me a weary sigh.
    “Honestly, Rosalyn.” she muttered. Then she opened both doors and led the way into a cavernous living room.
    Annabelle Mathers was in her early forties. Diminutive and pretty in a vague way, she sat perched on the edge of a lemon yellow upholstered chair. Her shoulder-length brown hair was combed away from her face, the thin tresses teased in an unflattering ‘do. Made her look much older. Puffy, purple half-moons underlined her medium blue eyes. Her casual blue sweater and black slacks were designer expensive, as were her snakeskin black pumps.
    “Annabelle, this is my daughter, Rosalyn. Please forgive her appearance, she just came from the gym.”
    I refrained from giving her the evil eye and clamped my mouth shut. I could get into an argument with my mother anytime. Right now, I needed to focus on Annabelle and what information she could provide about Delia Cummings.
    She remained seated, so I walked over to her and reaching out, offered my hand. “How do you do, Mrs. Mathers?”
    “Well, thank you. Please, have a seat.” Her voice was soft, airy, and would easily be drowned out in a crowd. She was one of those women who didn’t make much of an impact. As soon as she’d leave the room, you’d forget she ever existed.
    I sat on the sofa and the maid returned with a tea tray. She poured and handed us each a cup without asking if we wanted sugar or milk. I took it and placed it carefully on the antique table in front of me.
    Once she left, I looked at Annabelle. “I’m sorry for your troubles.”
    “Thank you. Barbara says you can help me. I’m still not sure how.”
    “She’s going to clear Martin’s name, Annabelle.” My mother’s tone rang with certainty.
    Me, I wasn’t so sure. “Well, I don’t know about—”
    Barbara spoke over me and subtly kicked my shin with her heel.
    “And Rosalyn is discretion itself. Anything you tell her will remain in this room. Isn’t that right, dear?”
    “Absolutely.” I reached into my purse and pulled out my little notepad. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
    Annabelle shrugged. “Of course.”
    “How well did you know Delia Cummings?” I asked.
    “Just casually. She was my husband’s secretary for two years. I spoke to her when I couldn’t reach Martin. I bought her Christmas presents, birthday presents and signed his name to the card. I chatted with her at the Christmas party.”
    I could feel my mother’s eyes shooting through me like blue lasers. She was giving me a bad case of performance anxiety. Since I wasn’t exactly sure how to broach the next question, I figured I might as well dive in head first.
    “Did you know Martin was having an affair with her?”
    Tension radiated from my mother’s body. Her fingers clamped down so hard on the china saucer, I was afraid she might pinch a chunk out of it.
    Annabelle delicately sighed. “Yes. That’s why he hired her. It certainly wasn’t for her typing skills.”
    Wow, a person offering up truthful information. I didn’t have to pull teeth for a change. This was kind of awesome. “Do you know where she was working before becoming his secretary?”
    “I believe she was a waitress at some club or other. I don’t know where. But Martin’s taste in women tends to the trashy.” She