Read Online Murder in the Boonies: A Sleuth Sisters Mystery (The Sleuth Sisters Book 3) by Maggie Pill - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maggie Pill
Tags: Fiction
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o’clock. They’d brought the Isley girls into town and sent for Rory, who got little more from them than Faye and Barb had. After all that, they remembered they have a sister who’s been taking care of the old place for years, sends them a check every quarter, and might like to know what’s going on out there.
What they should have done was bring the girls to me. In the first place, they knew me, at least a little bit, since I was the person they rented from. In the second place, my home is set up for little girls, since my daughter Alys and her husband Chuck bring Peri and Pola up from Bloomfield Hills at least twice a year. Though Barbara’s house is big, it has almost no guest space. She occupies the upstairs and Faye and Dale live downstairs. The Smart Detective Agency (Oh, how I dislike that name!) offices take up a couple of rooms at the front. That leaves only one skimpy room for guests. I suspect that’s how Barbara Ann likes it.
Faye insisted the girls were fine with them. “The little one loves Buddy,” she told me, “and he’s taken to her too.”
That was a surprise. Buddy, not the loveliest of dogs by a long shot, has focused totally on Faye since she rescued him from freezing to death on a deserted road. I’ve tried to be nice to him, as has Styx, but Buddy has the nasty temperament common to strays.
“Don’t let her get her face near that dog,” I warned. “He might bite her.”
Faye laughed out loud. “Right now they’re curled up in a chair together eating cheese crackers. I think Buddy knows she needs a friend.”
The words friend and Buddy together in a sentence wouldn’t have occurred to me, so I changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking about Rose Isley. I know where the shop she used to have is, and I wonder if the landlord might know if she has family somewhere.”
“It can’t hurt to ask,” Faye said. “I’m going to start supper, but call me if you find out anything.” I smiled at the enthusiasm in Faye’s voice. She enjoys nothing more than having people to cook for.
I almost pushed the end button, but I heard her say, “Wait! I wanted to let you know Cramer is going to start moving into the bunkhouse tomorrow after work. He wants to get it done over the weekend, so I told him to pick up the key from you tonight.”
“I’ll drop it off on my way through town,” I promised.
“Okay. Dale and I still plan to go out there after supper. I can’t let my horses spend their first night in a new place alone.”
“You’re going to leave Barbara with three little girls?” The image of my old maid sister dealing with that was cause for both humor and alarm.
“She says she’ll be fine.”
I ended the call, shaking my head. Faye had become a horse owner. Barb was acting as surrogate mother to three kids in crisis. I was heading out to investigate what was certainly a puzzle and possibly a crime. A person never imagines how life can change after fifty.
I remembered Rose Isley’s yarn shop because it had shared space with Ellie, a tailor I use for alterations. People think it’s great being petite, but just try buying pants that fit or a coat that doesn’t drag on the ground. Ellie’s great at refitting my garments so I don’t look like I’m wearing my older sisters’ clothes. Not that I ever would.
The building, old and saggy, had once been a mom-and-pop grocery store. When that failed, it sat empty for years before finally re-opening as a craft mall. The rooms are divided among crafters from stained glass artists to weavers to stone-cutters, and they take turns minding the store. Some had carved out a niche for themselves, as Ellie had with sewing and alterations. Others, like Rose, had to give up the struggle.
Ellie was putting things away, and checking my phone, I saw it was almost five. “I won’t keep you,” I promised, “I just want to know who the landlord is for this building.”
Looking over her half-glasses, Ellie grinned. “That
What they should have done was bring the girls to me. In the first place, they knew me, at least a little bit, since I was the person they rented from. In the second place, my home is set up for little girls, since my daughter Alys and her husband Chuck bring Peri and Pola up from Bloomfield Hills at least twice a year. Though Barbara’s house is big, it has almost no guest space. She occupies the upstairs and Faye and Dale live downstairs. The Smart Detective Agency (Oh, how I dislike that name!) offices take up a couple of rooms at the front. That leaves only one skimpy room for guests. I suspect that’s how Barbara Ann likes it.
Faye insisted the girls were fine with them. “The little one loves Buddy,” she told me, “and he’s taken to her too.”
That was a surprise. Buddy, not the loveliest of dogs by a long shot, has focused totally on Faye since she rescued him from freezing to death on a deserted road. I’ve tried to be nice to him, as has Styx, but Buddy has the nasty temperament common to strays.
“Don’t let her get her face near that dog,” I warned. “He might bite her.”
Faye laughed out loud. “Right now they’re curled up in a chair together eating cheese crackers. I think Buddy knows she needs a friend.”
The words friend and Buddy together in a sentence wouldn’t have occurred to me, so I changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking about Rose Isley. I know where the shop she used to have is, and I wonder if the landlord might know if she has family somewhere.”
“It can’t hurt to ask,” Faye said. “I’m going to start supper, but call me if you find out anything.” I smiled at the enthusiasm in Faye’s voice. She enjoys nothing more than having people to cook for.
I almost pushed the end button, but I heard her say, “Wait! I wanted to let you know Cramer is going to start moving into the bunkhouse tomorrow after work. He wants to get it done over the weekend, so I told him to pick up the key from you tonight.”
“I’ll drop it off on my way through town,” I promised.
“Okay. Dale and I still plan to go out there after supper. I can’t let my horses spend their first night in a new place alone.”
“You’re going to leave Barbara with three little girls?” The image of my old maid sister dealing with that was cause for both humor and alarm.
“She says she’ll be fine.”
I ended the call, shaking my head. Faye had become a horse owner. Barb was acting as surrogate mother to three kids in crisis. I was heading out to investigate what was certainly a puzzle and possibly a crime. A person never imagines how life can change after fifty.
I remembered Rose Isley’s yarn shop because it had shared space with Ellie, a tailor I use for alterations. People think it’s great being petite, but just try buying pants that fit or a coat that doesn’t drag on the ground. Ellie’s great at refitting my garments so I don’t look like I’m wearing my older sisters’ clothes. Not that I ever would.
The building, old and saggy, had once been a mom-and-pop grocery store. When that failed, it sat empty for years before finally re-opening as a craft mall. The rooms are divided among crafters from stained glass artists to weavers to stone-cutters, and they take turns minding the store. Some had carved out a niche for themselves, as Ellie had with sewing and alterations. Others, like Rose, had to give up the struggle.
Ellie was putting things away, and checking my phone, I saw it was almost five. “I won’t keep you,” I promised, “I just want to know who the landlord is for this building.”
Looking over her half-glasses, Ellie grinned. “That
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