Read Online Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 05 - Trouble on the Doorstep by Elaine Orr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elaine Orr
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paced before. “Stop it,” I said aloud, and sat back on the loveseat.
After several minutes of deep silence I stood to go upstairs. There was a squeak from the kitchen area. I stopped and looked toward the sink, where I thought the squeak had come from. I walked softly and stood in front of the sink. The squeak came again.
I stooped down and opened the doors under the sink, and the squeak turned into a plaintive meow. I began pulling things out, paying no attention to where they landed. Finally, all that was left was a small box of scrubbing pads. In frustration, I opened a drawer next to the sink.
There was a rustling noise and the scrubbing pad box fell over and my tiny cat walked out, meowing loudly now. I grabbed her and hugged her to me and she gave a high pitched meow and jumped down and ran under the loveseat. As I began to pick things up to store back under the sink I touched a scrubbing pad. Steel wool. She must have a lot of little pieces of sharp wool, or soap, in her fur. I knew she could lick them off, and I would be scarred if I tried to do it, but I still didn’t like to think of her being so scared.
With a small saucer of milk in hand, I sat on the floor in front of the love seat and looked under it. Green eyes peered back. I knew better than to reach for her. I put the saucer under the loveseat and went back to the mess on the floor.
As I finished Jazz curled around my ankle. I stooped and petted her. “I’m sorry, baby. You must have been so scared.” She swatted my hand, so I knew she was okay. I poured some dry cat food into a bowl and she gave me the satisfaction of hungrily gulping food.
I stood back and looked at the cabinets. I knew I hadn’t left them open. Jazz can get the lid off a shoe box, but she could never have opened the cabinet under the sink. That must mean the murderer did that, maybe even to throw her in there. I gave a small smile of satisfaction. I hope she bit him.
The police had used their black goop to get some fingerprints, but I didn’t see any of it near the cupboard under the sink. And I had just touched everything. “Damn!”
I COULDN’T GO BACK to sleep, so I made another practice batch of muffins. It was supposed to be my first real batch for guests. I decided I would wrap up two and leave them as gifts for the two guests who had been forced to stay at the hotel. They might not be perfect, but they’d be better than the continental breakfast the hotel provided.
I went upstairs to shower about six-thirty and tip-toed back downstairs with my makeup and hair dryer so I wouldn’t wake up Scoobie and George. As I was about to go into the half bath near the staircase I spotted something on the great room floor near the pantry. It hadn’t been there when I went upstairs, and a surge of panic went through me.
And then I noticed Mister Rogers and Miss Piggy waiting by the sliding glass door, tails wagging very fast. “I can’t believe it!” I opened the sliding glass door. “You’re going to be out there for awhile,” I hissed.
I picked up the chewed remains of a small plastic bowl. Aunt Madge has to have the only dogs on the planet that eat prunes, and they pick up the scent so well she has to put them in plastic containers. “For all the good that does,” I said aloud. At least the next time I sent an email to the ship I could tell her there was something on the floor besides Eric.
What is wrong with you?! I sat on the loveseat and cried some more.
George and Scoobie wandered down about seven-thirty. I was supposed to drive Scoobie to the community college campus at eight-thirty, and I knew George would want to get to work. He went back upstairs pretty quickly to take a shower. Last night he had talked to his editor a couple of times so they could write a piece on Eric’s murder. I could tell his editor was mad George would not go in and do it, but he was adamant about staying with me. Great. He’ll probably lose his job and it’ll be your
After several minutes of deep silence I stood to go upstairs. There was a squeak from the kitchen area. I stopped and looked toward the sink, where I thought the squeak had come from. I walked softly and stood in front of the sink. The squeak came again.
I stooped down and opened the doors under the sink, and the squeak turned into a plaintive meow. I began pulling things out, paying no attention to where they landed. Finally, all that was left was a small box of scrubbing pads. In frustration, I opened a drawer next to the sink.
There was a rustling noise and the scrubbing pad box fell over and my tiny cat walked out, meowing loudly now. I grabbed her and hugged her to me and she gave a high pitched meow and jumped down and ran under the loveseat. As I began to pick things up to store back under the sink I touched a scrubbing pad. Steel wool. She must have a lot of little pieces of sharp wool, or soap, in her fur. I knew she could lick them off, and I would be scarred if I tried to do it, but I still didn’t like to think of her being so scared.
With a small saucer of milk in hand, I sat on the floor in front of the love seat and looked under it. Green eyes peered back. I knew better than to reach for her. I put the saucer under the loveseat and went back to the mess on the floor.
As I finished Jazz curled around my ankle. I stooped and petted her. “I’m sorry, baby. You must have been so scared.” She swatted my hand, so I knew she was okay. I poured some dry cat food into a bowl and she gave me the satisfaction of hungrily gulping food.
I stood back and looked at the cabinets. I knew I hadn’t left them open. Jazz can get the lid off a shoe box, but she could never have opened the cabinet under the sink. That must mean the murderer did that, maybe even to throw her in there. I gave a small smile of satisfaction. I hope she bit him.
The police had used their black goop to get some fingerprints, but I didn’t see any of it near the cupboard under the sink. And I had just touched everything. “Damn!”
I COULDN’T GO BACK to sleep, so I made another practice batch of muffins. It was supposed to be my first real batch for guests. I decided I would wrap up two and leave them as gifts for the two guests who had been forced to stay at the hotel. They might not be perfect, but they’d be better than the continental breakfast the hotel provided.
I went upstairs to shower about six-thirty and tip-toed back downstairs with my makeup and hair dryer so I wouldn’t wake up Scoobie and George. As I was about to go into the half bath near the staircase I spotted something on the great room floor near the pantry. It hadn’t been there when I went upstairs, and a surge of panic went through me.
And then I noticed Mister Rogers and Miss Piggy waiting by the sliding glass door, tails wagging very fast. “I can’t believe it!” I opened the sliding glass door. “You’re going to be out there for awhile,” I hissed.
I picked up the chewed remains of a small plastic bowl. Aunt Madge has to have the only dogs on the planet that eat prunes, and they pick up the scent so well she has to put them in plastic containers. “For all the good that does,” I said aloud. At least the next time I sent an email to the ship I could tell her there was something on the floor besides Eric.
What is wrong with you?! I sat on the loveseat and cried some more.
George and Scoobie wandered down about seven-thirty. I was supposed to drive Scoobie to the community college campus at eight-thirty, and I knew George would want to get to work. He went back upstairs pretty quickly to take a shower. Last night he had talked to his editor a couple of times so they could write a piece on Eric’s murder. I could tell his editor was mad George would not go in and do it, but he was adamant about staying with me. Great. He’ll probably lose his job and it’ll be your
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