Read Online Murder With Peacocks by Donna Andrews - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donna Andrews
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous stories, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Reference, Mystery Fiction, Women Detectives, Murder, Weddings, Langslow; Meg (Fictitious character), Yorktown (Va.), Women detectives - Virginia - Yorktown
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previously thought. Samantha marched off haughtily in the opposite direction. Scotty looked as if he might return, but noticed that Dad was organizing an impromptu work detail to weed Professor Donleavy's flowerbeds. Scotty vanished around the side of the house. He was all too familiar with Dad's tendency to find work for idle hands. Barry, Eric, and one of Eric's classmates had already begun weeding.
"I see Dad's putting Barry to some good use," I said.
"They seem to be getting along pretty well," Michael remarked with a frown.
"Stuff and nonsense. I suspect Eileen has told Barry to get in good with Dad if he hopes to make a favorable impression on me, which is why he's been hovering over Dad even more than me since he got here."
"And getting in good with your Dad isn't important to making a favorable impression on you?" Michael asked. Dad saw us, waved, and began walking our way.
"It is, but I doubt if Barry has any chance of doing it," I replied.
"What a remarkably obtuse young man," Dad said, shaking his head as he joined us. Michael chuckled.
"I quite agree," I said. "Mother thinks he's very sweet."
"Really," Dad said.
"Of course, she has incredibly bad taste in men--present company excepted, of course."
"Of course," Dad said.
"She always liked Jeffrey, she's very taken with Barry, and she's even rather fond of Scotty the Sot," I said.
"Your mother strikes me as the sort of person who would be a sucker for stray animals, too," Michael remarked.
"Oh, she is." Dad beamed.
"But since we kids started going off to college and weren't around full time to feed them for her, she's gotten very good at getting other people to adopt them," I added.
I left Dad and Michael to entertain each other and strolled through the lawn, greeting friends and neighbors and adding to my napkin collection. One of Eileen's aunts gave me the new address for sending her invitation. A neighbor knew a calligrapher. Mrs. Fenniman knew a cheaper one. An aunt's new (third) husband was starting a catering business. By midafternoon I had to make a trip into the house to empty out my napkin collection.
When I came back out, I paused and looked over the lawn, bracing myself to dive back into the crowd. I noticed Samantha and Mrs. Grover standing a little apart at one end of the pool. From the looks of it, they weren't exchanging pleasantries.
I admit it, I'm nosy. I went over to join them.
"I'm sure you wouldn't want that to get out," Mrs. Grover was saying as I strolled into earshot.
"I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to," Samantha said in an icy tone.
"Well, we'll talk about it some other time, dear," Mrs. Grover said, so softly I could barely hear her. For a few seconds, she and Samantha appeared to be having a staring contest, and although neither appeared to take any notice of me, I knew perfectly well that both were acutely conscious of me and that my arrival had interrupted--what? As far as I knew, Samantha and Mrs. Grover had only just met. What could possibly be causing this undeniable antagonism between Samantha and her fiance's future stepfather's first wife's sister? What did Mrs. Grover know that Samantha wouldn't want to get out?
"Aunt Meg!" My melodramatic speculations were interrupted by Eric, who had appeared at my side and was tugging at my arm. "Come see what Duck did!"
"I can't imagine," I muttered, following him to a spot in the shrubbery. Mrs. Grover tagged along.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Duck laid another egg," Eric said. "Aunt Meg, what am I going to do with it? I don't have another shirt pocket, and I could put it in my pants pocket, but--"
"In warm weather like this, I think it will be fine until we get the incubator," I said. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay," Eric said. Spotting some newly arrived cousins, he ran off to play, presumably entrusting the care of Duck's egg to me.
"He's remarkably dependent on that
"I see Dad's putting Barry to some good use," I said.
"They seem to be getting along pretty well," Michael remarked with a frown.
"Stuff and nonsense. I suspect Eileen has told Barry to get in good with Dad if he hopes to make a favorable impression on me, which is why he's been hovering over Dad even more than me since he got here."
"And getting in good with your Dad isn't important to making a favorable impression on you?" Michael asked. Dad saw us, waved, and began walking our way.
"It is, but I doubt if Barry has any chance of doing it," I replied.
"What a remarkably obtuse young man," Dad said, shaking his head as he joined us. Michael chuckled.
"I quite agree," I said. "Mother thinks he's very sweet."
"Really," Dad said.
"Of course, she has incredibly bad taste in men--present company excepted, of course."
"Of course," Dad said.
"She always liked Jeffrey, she's very taken with Barry, and she's even rather fond of Scotty the Sot," I said.
"Your mother strikes me as the sort of person who would be a sucker for stray animals, too," Michael remarked.
"Oh, she is." Dad beamed.
"But since we kids started going off to college and weren't around full time to feed them for her, she's gotten very good at getting other people to adopt them," I added.
I left Dad and Michael to entertain each other and strolled through the lawn, greeting friends and neighbors and adding to my napkin collection. One of Eileen's aunts gave me the new address for sending her invitation. A neighbor knew a calligrapher. Mrs. Fenniman knew a cheaper one. An aunt's new (third) husband was starting a catering business. By midafternoon I had to make a trip into the house to empty out my napkin collection.
When I came back out, I paused and looked over the lawn, bracing myself to dive back into the crowd. I noticed Samantha and Mrs. Grover standing a little apart at one end of the pool. From the looks of it, they weren't exchanging pleasantries.
I admit it, I'm nosy. I went over to join them.
"I'm sure you wouldn't want that to get out," Mrs. Grover was saying as I strolled into earshot.
"I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to," Samantha said in an icy tone.
"Well, we'll talk about it some other time, dear," Mrs. Grover said, so softly I could barely hear her. For a few seconds, she and Samantha appeared to be having a staring contest, and although neither appeared to take any notice of me, I knew perfectly well that both were acutely conscious of me and that my arrival had interrupted--what? As far as I knew, Samantha and Mrs. Grover had only just met. What could possibly be causing this undeniable antagonism between Samantha and her fiance's future stepfather's first wife's sister? What did Mrs. Grover know that Samantha wouldn't want to get out?
"Aunt Meg!" My melodramatic speculations were interrupted by Eric, who had appeared at my side and was tugging at my arm. "Come see what Duck did!"
"I can't imagine," I muttered, following him to a spot in the shrubbery. Mrs. Grover tagged along.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Duck laid another egg," Eric said. "Aunt Meg, what am I going to do with it? I don't have another shirt pocket, and I could put it in my pants pocket, but--"
"In warm weather like this, I think it will be fine until we get the incubator," I said. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay," Eric said. Spotting some newly arrived cousins, he ran off to play, presumably entrusting the care of Duck's egg to me.
"He's remarkably dependent on that
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