Read Online Never Say Dye (A Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery, Book 3) by Morgana Best - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Morgana Best
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right, you sold me on it,” Mr. Buttons said, slapping his knees and standing up. We crept up the stairs and went down to the end of the hall. Dorothy had the last room on the left, and I felt a wave of relief when I tried the door and it swung open freely.
“Trusting sort of woman,” Mr. Buttons remarked.
I nodded to him. “Stay by the stairs. If you see her coming up, cough. Loudly.”
“Very well.” He turned and marched down the hall back to the staircase. I watched him and then went into the room.
Dorothy’s room was larger than most of the other bedrooms in the place, save Cressida’s. There was a twin sized bed pushed into the corner, and beyond that nothing in the room beside a dresser and a reclining chair. I went to the dresser first, and had just pulled open the top drawer, when I heard Mr. Buttons coughing. Surely the woman wasn’t coming upstairs, was she? What terrible timing.
I shut the dresser drawer and turned, hurrying for the door. Mr. Buttons coughed again just before I exited, and when he saw me, his face relaxed. I pulled the door shut and hurried down the hall. Dorothy and I reached the top of the staircase at the same time.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi,” Dorothy replied, in none too friendly a tone.
“Cressida is home.”
Dorothy just grunted and brushed past me. Mr. Buttons and I watched her walk down to her room and disappear inside it.
“Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.”
( Wallace Steven s )
Chapter Ten .
Mr. Buttons and I were in his car, intent upon investigating Dorothy. It was a quiet car ride, as Mr. Buttons did not have his radio on, and the Bentley hummed along peacefully.
I looked at the scenery, all bushland until we reached the top of mountain, then twists and turns to the bottom of the mountain, after which were green fields and houses dotted here and there, signaling that we were approaching civilization.
“We'll figure it out,” Mr. Buttons said, as he turned off onto the exit that led to our first glimpse of civilization in almost an hour. “I've got your back, Nancy Drew.”
I laughed at the nickname. I wasn't planning on being the local gumshoe who went running down every mystery that crossed my path. I was instead looking forward to a nice, quiet life where the words, I'm bored, might cross my mind more than once a day. “Please, no. I loved the series, but trouble always found that girl.”
Mr. Buttons turned his head to glance at me with raised eyebrows. “You’re saying it doesn't follow you?”
I had to laugh. “I'm hoping that’s a coincidence. I'm serious - no more detective work for me after this one is solved.”
Mr. Buttons smiled. “Sure - no more detective work, not until the next mystery pops up.”
“Stop it, or I'll start calling you my sidekick, George.”
Mr. Buttons wrinkled up his nose at the idea. “George was a girl.”
“It's either that or Bess – and anyway, how did you know that her sidekicks were girls?”
Mr. Buttons shot me a look. “I read some crossover stories with the Hardy Boys. Look them up - super mystery series. Mom was convinced that television was out to rot our brains. We spent a lot of time reading and outdoors.”
“Did you ever try to solve a neighborhood mystery?”
“What fan hasn't?” He laughed. “The old man at the corner of the street was very generous about not pressing trespassing charges. It took me a while to learn that not every cranky man who lives alone at the end of the street is hiding a sinister mystery. He was just a hoarder who had a thing for taxidermy.”
I laughed, trying to imagine Mr. Buttons as a child, sneaking around and peeking in people's windows, looking for adventure. “Now, back to business. Do you really think we’ll find out anything from Dorothy’s last employer?”
Mr. Buttons stroked his
“Trusting sort of woman,” Mr. Buttons remarked.
I nodded to him. “Stay by the stairs. If you see her coming up, cough. Loudly.”
“Very well.” He turned and marched down the hall back to the staircase. I watched him and then went into the room.
Dorothy’s room was larger than most of the other bedrooms in the place, save Cressida’s. There was a twin sized bed pushed into the corner, and beyond that nothing in the room beside a dresser and a reclining chair. I went to the dresser first, and had just pulled open the top drawer, when I heard Mr. Buttons coughing. Surely the woman wasn’t coming upstairs, was she? What terrible timing.
I shut the dresser drawer and turned, hurrying for the door. Mr. Buttons coughed again just before I exited, and when he saw me, his face relaxed. I pulled the door shut and hurried down the hall. Dorothy and I reached the top of the staircase at the same time.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi,” Dorothy replied, in none too friendly a tone.
“Cressida is home.”
Dorothy just grunted and brushed past me. Mr. Buttons and I watched her walk down to her room and disappear inside it.
“Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.”
( Wallace Steven s )
Chapter Ten .
Mr. Buttons and I were in his car, intent upon investigating Dorothy. It was a quiet car ride, as Mr. Buttons did not have his radio on, and the Bentley hummed along peacefully.
I looked at the scenery, all bushland until we reached the top of mountain, then twists and turns to the bottom of the mountain, after which were green fields and houses dotted here and there, signaling that we were approaching civilization.
“We'll figure it out,” Mr. Buttons said, as he turned off onto the exit that led to our first glimpse of civilization in almost an hour. “I've got your back, Nancy Drew.”
I laughed at the nickname. I wasn't planning on being the local gumshoe who went running down every mystery that crossed my path. I was instead looking forward to a nice, quiet life where the words, I'm bored, might cross my mind more than once a day. “Please, no. I loved the series, but trouble always found that girl.”
Mr. Buttons turned his head to glance at me with raised eyebrows. “You’re saying it doesn't follow you?”
I had to laugh. “I'm hoping that’s a coincidence. I'm serious - no more detective work for me after this one is solved.”
Mr. Buttons smiled. “Sure - no more detective work, not until the next mystery pops up.”
“Stop it, or I'll start calling you my sidekick, George.”
Mr. Buttons wrinkled up his nose at the idea. “George was a girl.”
“It's either that or Bess – and anyway, how did you know that her sidekicks were girls?”
Mr. Buttons shot me a look. “I read some crossover stories with the Hardy Boys. Look them up - super mystery series. Mom was convinced that television was out to rot our brains. We spent a lot of time reading and outdoors.”
“Did you ever try to solve a neighborhood mystery?”
“What fan hasn't?” He laughed. “The old man at the corner of the street was very generous about not pressing trespassing charges. It took me a while to learn that not every cranky man who lives alone at the end of the street is hiding a sinister mystery. He was just a hoarder who had a thing for taxidermy.”
I laughed, trying to imagine Mr. Buttons as a child, sneaking around and peeking in people's windows, looking for adventure. “Now, back to business. Do you really think we’ll find out anything from Dorothy’s last employer?”
Mr. Buttons stroked his
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