Read Online Dune to Death by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online Page B

as if he weren’t sure she’d know a newspaper if she found one in her mailbox.
    â€œOh. Well…” Judith glanced over her shoulder at Renie and found no help. Renie was pouring spoonfuls of batter into the waffle iron, onto the counter, and over her shoes. Judith decided that her cousin wasn’t as awake as she’d pretended.
    â€œI’m covering the murder,” said Terrence O’Toole, hitching up the navy blue suspenders he wore over a freshly pressed white dress shirt. He was tieless, and his open collar revealed a bright blue T-shirt. Judith wondered if Terrence was going for the Clark Kent–Superman look all at once, but hadn’t yet figured out how to hold up his pants. “I hear you found the body. How do you feel about that?”
    â€œGrim,” replied Judith, wondering how to discourage the press tactfully. “Excuse me, I’m just a tourist and have no…”
    â€œBut that’s the point!” exclaimed Terrence, beaming at Judith even as he inserted a foot in the doorway. “Kite-flying, beachcombing, waterskiing—everybody who comes to Buccaneer Beach does those things. They’re a cliché. But you found a body!”
    â€œDon’t I always,” murmured Judith. Behind her, she could hear Renie snicker. “I don’t even know who got killed. Look, Mr. O’Toole, my husband is in the hospital and I have to go…”
    Terrence’s sky blue eyes widened under the unruly brows. “Hospital?” He wedged himself between Judith and the doorjamb. They were eyeball-to-eyeball, and Judithfound herself fascinated by the gap between Terrence’s teeth. “Wowee! Did he get attacked? Is this a conspiracy?”
    Judith, whose nature, not to mention her livelihood, allowed for an open-door policy, relented and stepped aside. “Hardly. My husband wrecked a dune buggy. Or it wrecked him.” She ushered Terrence to an empty chair. “We’ll give you five minutes and a cup of coffee. If you can tell us who the victim is, we’ll divulge our deepest horrors.”
    â€œLet’s leave our mothers out of this,” muttered Renie, dutifully pouring coffee for the reporter.
    Judith gave Renie a baleful look, then turned to Terrence. “Have you an ID?”
    â€œOf course. Given the situation, I understand your need for caution. I even have a press card so I can park by the dock where they launch the crab boats.” Terrence flipped out his wallet.
    Judith put up her hand. “Not your ID—I mean for the woman who was killed here last night.”
    The blue eyes again grew wide. “Oh! Wowee! Sharp question! Yes—her name was Leona…” He paused, consulted his wallet, realized his mistake, and opened his notebook. Judith began to worry about Terrence O’Toole. “Leona Ogilvie. She’s somebody’s sister.”
    Judith’s brain clicked. “Alice Ogilvie Hoke’s sister?” She exchanged quick looks with Renie. If Alice and Leona were sisters, that might account for some of the confusion. It would also explain why the police chief thought the victim looked familiar.
    Terrence nodded, just a shade doubtfully. “Right. Extremely sharp. I think.” He picked up the coffee mug Renie had handed him and took a big gulp. “I graduated from OSU last semester. I haven’t been in Buccaneer Beach very long.” With an air of regret, Terrence dumped a heaping teaspoon of sugar into his coffee. “Neither was Leona Ogilvie.”
    Judith arched her dark brows. “Oh? But was she from here originally?”
    Terrence nodded. “There was a big difference betweenLeona and her sister, Alice. In personality, I mean. Leona went away a long time ago. To be a missionary in South America. My editor told me she must have just got back. Weird, huh?”
    â€œShe would have been safer with the pygmies along the Amazon,” remarked Judith,