Read Online Murder Carries a Torch by Anne George - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne George
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a wonderful listener. Except for a few “I declares” and “Have mercies,” she didn’t interrupt my story about all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
When I finally wound down, she said, “You think Virginia’s dead, too, don’t you?”
“I think it’s a good possibility, and it makes me so sad. I can’t imagine how she must have felt when she found out what she had gotten into, can you?”
Mitzi shook her head no.
“And it’s more than the snakes. There’s something going on up there that two people have been murdered over.” I paused. “Surely there’s some connection between the two deaths.”
“I would think so.”
“And now I’ve got to call Richard and tell him what’s happened, and I dread it. To start with, it’s not going to make any sense to him. He’s going to think I’ve lost my mind when I tell him his mother ran off with a snake-handling preacher.”
“Why don’t you get Mary Alice to call him?”
I looked up and Mitzi was smiling at me.
“I’ll take Woofer for his walk. You go tell her what’s happened. Tell her the sheriff suggested the call.”
I thought of the sheriff not wanting to disturb Miss Purple Boots’s beauty sleep.
I smiled back. “That’s a great idea.”
Mary Alice lives in a house on top of Red Mountain, a huge house that her first husband Will Alec Sullivan’sfamily built with the millions they made off of steel. Her other two wealthy husbands had been happy to live with her there; each, like his predecessor, had impregnated her once there, and had widowed her there. They would have been crazy not to have lived there. It’s one of the most beautiful houses I’ve ever seen, overlooking the whole city. From Sister’s sunroom, you can see planes landing and taking off from the airport. You can see thunderstorms roaring down the valley, and spectacular sunsets.
This morning as I pulled into the driveway, Tiffany the Magic Maid was sweeping the front porch. She is a cute young blonde. The Magic Maids is the name of the company that she works for though, best I can tell, she spends most of her time at Mary Alice’s.
She looked up and waved. It was all of thirty-five degrees but she had on khaki shorts and a blue denim shirt. Her arms and legs were as tan as if it were July.
“Morning, Mrs. Hollowell,” she called.
“Morning, Tiffany. Did you see the snow last night?”
“Sure did. Wasn’t it pretty?”
“And cold.”
She giggled. “I’m just going to stay out here a minute. Mrs. Crane’s in the sunroom eating breakfast.”
I let myself into the house and walked back to the sunroom where Mary Alice was reading the paper and drinking coffee.
“Hey,” she said, pointing toward a white carafe. “You want a cup? There’s some toast left, too.”
“Nope.” I sat down in one of the white wicker chairs that’s covered in a bright floral print. Next to my kitchen this is my favorite room in the whole world.
Sister folded the paper and put it on the coffee table.
“What’s up? You’re out early. Is Luke okay?”
“I guess so. I haven’t heard. Virgil Stuckey called, though.”
Sister came to attention. Preened, actually. “Really?” She smoothed the silky yellow caftan she was wearing. “What did he want?”
I told her. It didn’t take as long as it had taken me to tell Mitzi because it was just the part about the car in Pulaski, Monk Crawford’s body, and our need to call Richard. I did get a “Well, I do declare,” out of her, though.
“And there’s no sign of Virginia?”
“Well, Luke said he saw her in the church, remember.”
“I don’t think he did. I’ll bet she’s dead.”
Sister got up, brushing toast crumbs from the yellow silk.
“Say Virgil thought we ought to call Richard?”
I nodded.
“Do you know his number?”
“No.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
She went into the kitchen and came back with a phone and a phone book.
“I’ll just call our
When I finally wound down, she said, “You think Virginia’s dead, too, don’t you?”
“I think it’s a good possibility, and it makes me so sad. I can’t imagine how she must have felt when she found out what she had gotten into, can you?”
Mitzi shook her head no.
“And it’s more than the snakes. There’s something going on up there that two people have been murdered over.” I paused. “Surely there’s some connection between the two deaths.”
“I would think so.”
“And now I’ve got to call Richard and tell him what’s happened, and I dread it. To start with, it’s not going to make any sense to him. He’s going to think I’ve lost my mind when I tell him his mother ran off with a snake-handling preacher.”
“Why don’t you get Mary Alice to call him?”
I looked up and Mitzi was smiling at me.
“I’ll take Woofer for his walk. You go tell her what’s happened. Tell her the sheriff suggested the call.”
I thought of the sheriff not wanting to disturb Miss Purple Boots’s beauty sleep.
I smiled back. “That’s a great idea.”
Mary Alice lives in a house on top of Red Mountain, a huge house that her first husband Will Alec Sullivan’sfamily built with the millions they made off of steel. Her other two wealthy husbands had been happy to live with her there; each, like his predecessor, had impregnated her once there, and had widowed her there. They would have been crazy not to have lived there. It’s one of the most beautiful houses I’ve ever seen, overlooking the whole city. From Sister’s sunroom, you can see planes landing and taking off from the airport. You can see thunderstorms roaring down the valley, and spectacular sunsets.
This morning as I pulled into the driveway, Tiffany the Magic Maid was sweeping the front porch. She is a cute young blonde. The Magic Maids is the name of the company that she works for though, best I can tell, she spends most of her time at Mary Alice’s.
She looked up and waved. It was all of thirty-five degrees but she had on khaki shorts and a blue denim shirt. Her arms and legs were as tan as if it were July.
“Morning, Mrs. Hollowell,” she called.
“Morning, Tiffany. Did you see the snow last night?”
“Sure did. Wasn’t it pretty?”
“And cold.”
She giggled. “I’m just going to stay out here a minute. Mrs. Crane’s in the sunroom eating breakfast.”
I let myself into the house and walked back to the sunroom where Mary Alice was reading the paper and drinking coffee.
“Hey,” she said, pointing toward a white carafe. “You want a cup? There’s some toast left, too.”
“Nope.” I sat down in one of the white wicker chairs that’s covered in a bright floral print. Next to my kitchen this is my favorite room in the whole world.
Sister folded the paper and put it on the coffee table.
“What’s up? You’re out early. Is Luke okay?”
“I guess so. I haven’t heard. Virgil Stuckey called, though.”
Sister came to attention. Preened, actually. “Really?” She smoothed the silky yellow caftan she was wearing. “What did he want?”
I told her. It didn’t take as long as it had taken me to tell Mitzi because it was just the part about the car in Pulaski, Monk Crawford’s body, and our need to call Richard. I did get a “Well, I do declare,” out of her, though.
“And there’s no sign of Virginia?”
“Well, Luke said he saw her in the church, remember.”
“I don’t think he did. I’ll bet she’s dead.”
Sister got up, brushing toast crumbs from the yellow silk.
“Say Virgil thought we ought to call Richard?”
I nodded.
“Do you know his number?”
“No.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
She went into the kitchen and came back with a phone and a phone book.
“I’ll just call our
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