Read Online Murder Came Second by Jessica Thomas - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Thomas
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sturdy and straight, and was painted a deep Wedgwood blue that looked great against the gray of the cottage.
“Aunt Mae, I didn’t do this, or have it done. I meant to. We enjoy it so much, and you are so generous about the rent, I was going to have it done, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”
“Then who did it?” Aunt Mae asked.
Then they both looked at me. “A-a-a-lex!”
I bowed. “Guilty. I love ya both, ladies, and I didn’t want you or anyone else getting hurt on it. My small gift. My great pleasure.” I bowed again.
At first there were lots of statements to the effect that it wasn’t in the least my responsibility, and lots of arms waving checkbooks. But then I got lots of hugs and kisses, and several choruses of, “You really shouldn’t have.” Wells ran down from Aunt Mae’s house and leaped for Cindy’s arms. Fargo ran around and barked. It was a Hallmark moment.
I soon escaped and went on my appointed rounds.
For years, Lainey and Cassie’s so-called dining room had been “furnished” with a dilapidated old kitchen table with four unmatched chairs and two sagging bookcases. But now all was changed. It was a lovely room, with soft green carpeting and a small apple wood breakfront as its focal points. A shining dining room table and six chairs with pink, lavender and beige needlepoint upholstery, plus a buffet of rich pecan wood finished off the room. A bouquet of fresh tall pink coneflowers on the buffet added a nice touch of drama.
Cindy, Wolf, Peter and I had offered numerous compliments on the room, and had sat down to a dinner that kept us making admiring comments. On a warm summer night, Lainey had chosen a cold dinner menu that was both delicious to eat and lovely to look at. It was a meal to die for. And it probably tasted all the better for its lovely surroundings.
Conversation had been desultory. I noticed we stayed on safe subjects: the disappearing alligator—interest was dying fast on that subject, the joys and disappointments of gardening, a break up that had surprised no one and, of course, the weather.
Cassie and Lainey had a really great, funny surprise for dessert. We were all led into the kitchen and told to make the ice cream sundae or banana split of our dreams from the great array of ingredients spread before us. Suddenly, we were like a bunch of kids, nudging and laughing, saying, “Oh, that looks good, give me some of that,” “Stop shoving!” and, “Don’t be a pig, save me some of that.”
I watched Cindy help herself to a small scoop of lemon ice doused with what must have been at least a teaspoon of chocolate sauce. Lainey, I saw, had dished up a bit of chocolate ice cream and a dab of raspberry topping. I won’t try to describe what all the rest of us had, I just noted that our plates were filled dangerously close to the rims.
Coffee was a welcome closer, and we took it out onto the porch, so that those of us who wanted a cigarette could horrify Lainey in some degree of peace. Peter deftly got the conversation off Lainey’s lecture.
“I guess you’ve heard the news? Paul Carlucci is coming to town and bringing his whole troupe!”
“Who’s Paul Caruso?”
“He’s bringing the cavalry? They still have a cavalry?”
“Or singing monkeys?”
“The opera singer? I thought he died back in the nineteen-twenties.”
“Is he that guy who hunted crocodiles on TV? I thought he died, too.”
Peter dropped his head and spread his hands in mock despair. “Ladies, ladies, you are so provincial!”
“Of course we are.” Cassie waved a hand to include the area around us. “We live in Provincetown.”
I laughed. “Very good, Cassie.”
Peter sulked. Wolf continued. “It’s Paul Carlucci, not Enrico Caruso. And it’s his t-r-o-u-p-e, a group of actors, a troupe of players, and they’re coming to town! This town! It’s quite a deal. They’ll be performing at the amphitheater, and if it goes well, it will become one of those
“Aunt Mae, I didn’t do this, or have it done. I meant to. We enjoy it so much, and you are so generous about the rent, I was going to have it done, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”
“Then who did it?” Aunt Mae asked.
Then they both looked at me. “A-a-a-lex!”
I bowed. “Guilty. I love ya both, ladies, and I didn’t want you or anyone else getting hurt on it. My small gift. My great pleasure.” I bowed again.
At first there were lots of statements to the effect that it wasn’t in the least my responsibility, and lots of arms waving checkbooks. But then I got lots of hugs and kisses, and several choruses of, “You really shouldn’t have.” Wells ran down from Aunt Mae’s house and leaped for Cindy’s arms. Fargo ran around and barked. It was a Hallmark moment.
I soon escaped and went on my appointed rounds.
For years, Lainey and Cassie’s so-called dining room had been “furnished” with a dilapidated old kitchen table with four unmatched chairs and two sagging bookcases. But now all was changed. It was a lovely room, with soft green carpeting and a small apple wood breakfront as its focal points. A shining dining room table and six chairs with pink, lavender and beige needlepoint upholstery, plus a buffet of rich pecan wood finished off the room. A bouquet of fresh tall pink coneflowers on the buffet added a nice touch of drama.
Cindy, Wolf, Peter and I had offered numerous compliments on the room, and had sat down to a dinner that kept us making admiring comments. On a warm summer night, Lainey had chosen a cold dinner menu that was both delicious to eat and lovely to look at. It was a meal to die for. And it probably tasted all the better for its lovely surroundings.
Conversation had been desultory. I noticed we stayed on safe subjects: the disappearing alligator—interest was dying fast on that subject, the joys and disappointments of gardening, a break up that had surprised no one and, of course, the weather.
Cassie and Lainey had a really great, funny surprise for dessert. We were all led into the kitchen and told to make the ice cream sundae or banana split of our dreams from the great array of ingredients spread before us. Suddenly, we were like a bunch of kids, nudging and laughing, saying, “Oh, that looks good, give me some of that,” “Stop shoving!” and, “Don’t be a pig, save me some of that.”
I watched Cindy help herself to a small scoop of lemon ice doused with what must have been at least a teaspoon of chocolate sauce. Lainey, I saw, had dished up a bit of chocolate ice cream and a dab of raspberry topping. I won’t try to describe what all the rest of us had, I just noted that our plates were filled dangerously close to the rims.
Coffee was a welcome closer, and we took it out onto the porch, so that those of us who wanted a cigarette could horrify Lainey in some degree of peace. Peter deftly got the conversation off Lainey’s lecture.
“I guess you’ve heard the news? Paul Carlucci is coming to town and bringing his whole troupe!”
“Who’s Paul Caruso?”
“He’s bringing the cavalry? They still have a cavalry?”
“Or singing monkeys?”
“The opera singer? I thought he died back in the nineteen-twenties.”
“Is he that guy who hunted crocodiles on TV? I thought he died, too.”
Peter dropped his head and spread his hands in mock despair. “Ladies, ladies, you are so provincial!”
“Of course we are.” Cassie waved a hand to include the area around us. “We live in Provincetown.”
I laughed. “Very good, Cassie.”
Peter sulked. Wolf continued. “It’s Paul Carlucci, not Enrico Caruso. And it’s his t-r-o-u-p-e, a group of actors, a troupe of players, and they’re coming to town! This town! It’s quite a deal. They’ll be performing at the amphitheater, and if it goes well, it will become one of those
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