Read Online Murder on the Half Shell (A Red Carpet Catering Mystery Book 2) by Shawn Reilly Simmons - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shawn Reilly Simmons
Tags: Women Sleuths, amateur sleuth, cozy mystery, Murder mysteries, mystery books, murder mystery series, english mysteries, murder mystery books, female detective, british chick lit, culinary mysteries, food mysteries
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when she’s going to be out late. Never any problems.”
“Is there anyone who can come and be with you while you wait?” Penelope asked.
“I do everything on my own,” Mrs. Lambert said dreamily. Penelope’s eyes flicked to a prescription bottle next to a box of tissues on the end table beside her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to call someone from your family? Maybe Sabena is with—”
Mrs. Lambert let out a quick laugh, the first time she seemed not in a daze. “I already called her dad. He’s in Vermont. He was no good to us when he was around, but he’s decent enough to let me know if she’d turned up there. He can’t be bothered with us.” She sighed and sank back against the couch.
Penelope glanced down the hallway off the living room. “Can I use your bathroom?”
Mrs. Lambert nodded and waved lazily behind her, un-muting the television. News of a natural disaster somewhere far away echoed off the bare walls of the living room.
Penelope closed the door behind her and washed her hands in the pink porcelain sink, dabbing a few drops of water on her forehead. The noise from the television increased, and she could hear the news report clearly through the door. She looked at the faded pink, bleach-stained towels hanging behind her and decided to air dry her hands, since they looked like they hadn’t been washed recently. She pulled aside the shower curtain, exposing the vintage pink porcelain tub. The grout was wearing away in a few spots, but it was relatively clean. She popped open the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet and poked through a few pill vials, recognizing the names of a few anti-anxiety medicines, their names familiar from commercials she’d seen.
The phone rang on the other side of the door and Penelope jumped, closing the medicine cabinet with a snap. She stepped out into the hallway and looked at the back of Mrs. Lambert’s head over the couch as she spoke on the phone.
“No, nothing yet,” Mrs. Lambert said, her voice breaking at the end. She began to nod as she listened to someone on the phone, and then she started to cry, grabbing a handful of tissues from the box next to her. “I am…I will…” she said wetly, answering the tinny voice on the other end.
Penelope looked back down the hallway at two bedroom doors, slightly ajar and facing each other. The one on the left was decorated with sparkly blue and white letters, spelling out Sabena’s name. Mrs. Lambert continued to talk on the phone while Penelope slipped down the hall and into the girl’s bedroom.
Sabena’s bed was made, the thin comforter pulled tight and tucked under her pillow. The walls were covered in posters, a collage of familiar musicians and athletes. A collection of trophies and a pink jewelry box with a ballerina dancing across the lid sat on top of a small bookcase next to the desk. Penelope eased open the jewelry box, which held a few imitation gold necklaces, several sets of stud earrings and Sabena’s class ring, a thick silver band with a blue gem in the middle.
Penelope slid open the folding closet doors. Sabena’s clothes hung on matching white hangers and two rows of shoes were lined up on the floor. A collection of stuffed bears stared down from a shelf above the hangers next to a short pile of sweatshirts, folded and stacked neatly in the center. Penelope stepped up on her toes and looked further back on the shelf, noticing a box with a small gold latch on it that had been pushed against the wall.
Penelope glanced at the bedroom door, still hearing the loud television and one side of Mrs. Lambert’s conversation from the other room. She reached up and pulled the box towards her, almost toppling the sweatshirts onto the floor in the process. Penelope propped the box in the crook of her arm and eased open the top, two silky ribbons in the corners stretching tautly between the box and the lid. An envelope was on top, torn open at the seam. Penelope plucked it out, then walked
“Is there anyone who can come and be with you while you wait?” Penelope asked.
“I do everything on my own,” Mrs. Lambert said dreamily. Penelope’s eyes flicked to a prescription bottle next to a box of tissues on the end table beside her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to call someone from your family? Maybe Sabena is with—”
Mrs. Lambert let out a quick laugh, the first time she seemed not in a daze. “I already called her dad. He’s in Vermont. He was no good to us when he was around, but he’s decent enough to let me know if she’d turned up there. He can’t be bothered with us.” She sighed and sank back against the couch.
Penelope glanced down the hallway off the living room. “Can I use your bathroom?”
Mrs. Lambert nodded and waved lazily behind her, un-muting the television. News of a natural disaster somewhere far away echoed off the bare walls of the living room.
Penelope closed the door behind her and washed her hands in the pink porcelain sink, dabbing a few drops of water on her forehead. The noise from the television increased, and she could hear the news report clearly through the door. She looked at the faded pink, bleach-stained towels hanging behind her and decided to air dry her hands, since they looked like they hadn’t been washed recently. She pulled aside the shower curtain, exposing the vintage pink porcelain tub. The grout was wearing away in a few spots, but it was relatively clean. She popped open the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet and poked through a few pill vials, recognizing the names of a few anti-anxiety medicines, their names familiar from commercials she’d seen.
The phone rang on the other side of the door and Penelope jumped, closing the medicine cabinet with a snap. She stepped out into the hallway and looked at the back of Mrs. Lambert’s head over the couch as she spoke on the phone.
“No, nothing yet,” Mrs. Lambert said, her voice breaking at the end. She began to nod as she listened to someone on the phone, and then she started to cry, grabbing a handful of tissues from the box next to her. “I am…I will…” she said wetly, answering the tinny voice on the other end.
Penelope looked back down the hallway at two bedroom doors, slightly ajar and facing each other. The one on the left was decorated with sparkly blue and white letters, spelling out Sabena’s name. Mrs. Lambert continued to talk on the phone while Penelope slipped down the hall and into the girl’s bedroom.
Sabena’s bed was made, the thin comforter pulled tight and tucked under her pillow. The walls were covered in posters, a collage of familiar musicians and athletes. A collection of trophies and a pink jewelry box with a ballerina dancing across the lid sat on top of a small bookcase next to the desk. Penelope eased open the jewelry box, which held a few imitation gold necklaces, several sets of stud earrings and Sabena’s class ring, a thick silver band with a blue gem in the middle.
Penelope slid open the folding closet doors. Sabena’s clothes hung on matching white hangers and two rows of shoes were lined up on the floor. A collection of stuffed bears stared down from a shelf above the hangers next to a short pile of sweatshirts, folded and stacked neatly in the center. Penelope stepped up on her toes and looked further back on the shelf, noticing a box with a small gold latch on it that had been pushed against the wall.
Penelope glanced at the bedroom door, still hearing the loud television and one side of Mrs. Lambert’s conversation from the other room. She reached up and pulled the box towards her, almost toppling the sweatshirts onto the floor in the process. Penelope propped the box in the crook of her arm and eased open the top, two silky ribbons in the corners stretching tautly between the box and the lid. An envelope was on top, torn open at the seam. Penelope plucked it out, then walked
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