Read Online Murder With Peacocks by Donna Andrews - Free Book Online Page A

Eileen not to come. Both other brides were using the occasion to assign me new projects and extract progress reports on the old ones. Although if I reciprocated by trying to get either of them to make a decision or cough up information, they would gently rebuke me for being a workaholic and ruining such a nice social occasion. I hadn't expected to need the notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe at a party, dammit, so I was taking notes on napkins. With two out of three brides present at the picnic, my pockets were getting rather full of napkins.
      I joined the mob at the buffet table and discovered, to my irritation, that there was only a small bowl of Pam's famous homemade salsa, and that was nearly gone. Rob and Michael were industriously shoveling down what little remained.
      "Is that all the salsa left?" I demanded. Michael and Rob froze, then edged away guiltily.
      "Dad got into it," Pam explained.
      "He always does," I said, scraping a few remnants off the side of the bowl. "You should have made two bowls and hidden one."
      "I always do," she retorted. "It's not my fault he found them both this time. He's getting better at it."
      "You mean your dad ate two whole bowls of salsa?" Samantha asked incredulously.
      "Dad's very fond of my salsa," Pam said.
    "It's very good," Barry pronounced.
      "Wonderful digestion for someone in his sixties," Jake remarked. "I can't even look at the stuff without having heartburn for days."
      "Dad can eat everything," Pam remarked.
    "And frequently does," I said. "How well did you hide the desserts?"
      "Here, Meg," Mother said, handing me a plate. "Have some potato salad."
      "I don't like potato salad, Mother," I said.
      "Nonsense, it's very good," Mother said. "Mrs. Grover made it." Not, to my mind, a recommendation. I examined it for telltale signs of ground glass or eye of newt.
      "Oh, Meg, there's your friend Scotty!" Mother said, pointing out a new arrival. "Scotty and Meg grew up together," she explained to Michael, who was looking dubiously at Scotty's disheveled, potbellied form.
      "I've been a little more successful at it," I said. "Scotty's in training to become the town drunk."
      "Meg!" Mother said. "Is that necessary?"
    "Well, somebody has to do it. Scotty's certainly the best qualified."
      "He's had a little trouble finding himself," Mother said. "I'm sure he'll do just fine as soon as he finds something that suits his abilities."
      "Mother," I said. "Scotty is thirty-five years old. If he hasn't figured out what he wants to do when he grows up by now, I would say the chances of his ever doing so are slim and getting slimmer by the minute."
      "I'm sure he'll turn out all right," Mother said. "He just needs encouragement." She floated over to talk to some newly arriving cousins, graciously bestowing an encouraging word on Scotty in passing. He jumped guiltily away from the beer cooler at the sound of her voice and began combing his unwashed hair with his fingers. Then, when he realized she was gone, he furtively fished out another can.
      "Actually, he doesn't usually need much encouragement at all," I said as Scotty had caught sight of me and hurried over. Scotty cherished the fond delusion that we were childhood buddies.
      "Meg," he said, approaching with open arms.
    "Hello, Scotty, have some potato salad," I said, shoving my plate into his hand to ward him off. He didn't seem to mind. Scotty was used to rejection.
      "Isn't it great?" Scotty said. "We're going to be in a wedding together."
      "Scotty's an usher in Samantha and Rob's wedding," I explained.
      "His father is a partner in the firm," Samantha added, giving Scotty a withering look. He sidled off. I wondered, not for the first time, why Samantha had ever included Scotty as an usher. Granted he was rumored to be reasonably presentable when sober and washed, but other than that ... well, his father must be a great deal more important to Mr. Brewster's law firm than I'd