Read Online Murder in the Marketplace by Lora Roberts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lora Roberts
Tags: Mystery
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“They’re going to bring some bagels or something. Honestly, Aunt Liz, you look just like Daddy when you have that expression on your face.”
"Thanks for the compliment.” I tossed her a pillow from my bed. “Have you given up on your stock exchange idea?”
“Not exactly given up,” Amy said, holding the pillow under her chin while she put on a clean pillow slip. Watching her, I had a vivid flash of myself as a girl, gripping the pillow beneath my chin, both hands free to open the pillow slip and pull it halfway up, then raising my chin to free the pillow for a brisk shake the rest of the way into the case. My mother would be flapping the sheets, wearing the calm expression of one who knows exactly what her job is and how to do it That certainty had driven me wild with rebellion, but now I understood how she could barter freedom for a narrow security.
Amy put the pillow on the Hide-a-bed and I pulled myself out of the past. “I’m going to do some research on investment houses at the library tomorrow,” she said, looking like the farthest thing from a button-down stockbroker that I could imagine. “There’s a library downtown, Elise said.”
I spread one more blanket on top of the bed; nights are cold even in June. "That sounds like a good idea.”
She picked up her big leather bag and pulled out an immense T-shirt. “Can I take another shower? I still feel, like, positively groady.”
“Sure.” I looked at the Hide-a-bed, taking up all the space in my small living room. “There’s not a lot of hot water, though. The heater doesn’t work too well, and I haven’t saved enough for a new one yet.”
“Okay,” she said. “It’ll be like camping.”
I spread my census paperwork on the kitchen table, but I couldn’t get down to it. The interruption I’d been expecting came while the water was running.
Drake knocked with his usual impatient rat-a-tat, and didn’t bother waiting for me to open the door. He came in, holding a big paper bag.
“I can’t believe after all that happened last year that you’d leave the scene of a crime,” he said, shoving the paper bag into my arms. Drake had been the investigating officer the previous fall, in my brush with contrived death. That’s how we’d met—how he’d been on the scene to snap up a bargain when I decided to sell one of the houses Vivien had left me.
I was glad Amy was in the shower. “I didn’t know there’d been a crime.” Inside the paper bag was dog food, a leash, and some food bowls. “Looked like suicide to me. How did you know I was there?”
Drake shrugged impatiently. “Suicide is a crime in some states, for your information. Any dead person you discover, you’re supposed to wait until the police get there. I saw you driving away, and when Miss Jensen said there’d been a sinister census taker on the doorstep when she got there, I managed to add two and two.”
“I waited for the ambulance. Clarice more or less told me to leave.” I took the bag to the kitchen and Drake trailed behind.
Barker rose from a brief nap and attached himself to Drake’s pant leg, growling ferociously, the hair standing up on the back of his neck.
“And you removed evidence.” Drake shook Barker off his leg and picked him up by the scruff, which instantly cowed him. “This dog.”
“According to Clarice, he was a nuisance. I did her a favor.” I filled the water bowl, and Barker immediately came to drink from it as if he were dying of thirst. “It’s not like I want a puppy planted on me.” I crossed my arms and returned Drake’s glare with interest. “Why are you involved, anyway?”
“Suspicious death.” He sat at the kitchen table, uninvited, and looked expectantly at the teakettle on the stove. I filled it with water and turned on the gas, getting out the box of ginseng tea like he likes. “I hate that kind of thing,” he grumbled, waiting for the water to boil. “Everything messed up and no clear indications of what
"Thanks for the compliment.” I tossed her a pillow from my bed. “Have you given up on your stock exchange idea?”
“Not exactly given up,” Amy said, holding the pillow under her chin while she put on a clean pillow slip. Watching her, I had a vivid flash of myself as a girl, gripping the pillow beneath my chin, both hands free to open the pillow slip and pull it halfway up, then raising my chin to free the pillow for a brisk shake the rest of the way into the case. My mother would be flapping the sheets, wearing the calm expression of one who knows exactly what her job is and how to do it That certainty had driven me wild with rebellion, but now I understood how she could barter freedom for a narrow security.
Amy put the pillow on the Hide-a-bed and I pulled myself out of the past. “I’m going to do some research on investment houses at the library tomorrow,” she said, looking like the farthest thing from a button-down stockbroker that I could imagine. “There’s a library downtown, Elise said.”
I spread one more blanket on top of the bed; nights are cold even in June. "That sounds like a good idea.”
She picked up her big leather bag and pulled out an immense T-shirt. “Can I take another shower? I still feel, like, positively groady.”
“Sure.” I looked at the Hide-a-bed, taking up all the space in my small living room. “There’s not a lot of hot water, though. The heater doesn’t work too well, and I haven’t saved enough for a new one yet.”
“Okay,” she said. “It’ll be like camping.”
I spread my census paperwork on the kitchen table, but I couldn’t get down to it. The interruption I’d been expecting came while the water was running.
Drake knocked with his usual impatient rat-a-tat, and didn’t bother waiting for me to open the door. He came in, holding a big paper bag.
“I can’t believe after all that happened last year that you’d leave the scene of a crime,” he said, shoving the paper bag into my arms. Drake had been the investigating officer the previous fall, in my brush with contrived death. That’s how we’d met—how he’d been on the scene to snap up a bargain when I decided to sell one of the houses Vivien had left me.
I was glad Amy was in the shower. “I didn’t know there’d been a crime.” Inside the paper bag was dog food, a leash, and some food bowls. “Looked like suicide to me. How did you know I was there?”
Drake shrugged impatiently. “Suicide is a crime in some states, for your information. Any dead person you discover, you’re supposed to wait until the police get there. I saw you driving away, and when Miss Jensen said there’d been a sinister census taker on the doorstep when she got there, I managed to add two and two.”
“I waited for the ambulance. Clarice more or less told me to leave.” I took the bag to the kitchen and Drake trailed behind.
Barker rose from a brief nap and attached himself to Drake’s pant leg, growling ferociously, the hair standing up on the back of his neck.
“And you removed evidence.” Drake shook Barker off his leg and picked him up by the scruff, which instantly cowed him. “This dog.”
“According to Clarice, he was a nuisance. I did her a favor.” I filled the water bowl, and Barker immediately came to drink from it as if he were dying of thirst. “It’s not like I want a puppy planted on me.” I crossed my arms and returned Drake’s glare with interest. “Why are you involved, anyway?”
“Suspicious death.” He sat at the kitchen table, uninvited, and looked expectantly at the teakettle on the stove. I filled it with water and turned on the gas, getting out the box of ginseng tea like he likes. “I hate that kind of thing,” he grumbled, waiting for the water to boil. “Everything messed up and no clear indications of what
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