Read Online Prosecco Pink by Traci Angrighetti - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Traci Angrighetti
Ads: Link
worked up about something she says."
"It's not like I'm buying in to this whole psychic thing,'" I said, scratching my nose and visualizing Pinocchio. "But I am paying attention to the fact that she knows things about me and this case."
"Okay, but this is the information age," Veronica said with a pointed look. "She can go online and find out pretty much anything she wants to know, starting by looking at your meticulously maintained Facebook page."
My text message tone chimed.
Saved by the bell , I thought as I reached into my bag for my phone. When I read the display, I got a fluttery feeling in my chest.
Back in town tomorrow. Dinner at 7? Missing you, Bradley.
I smiled. Maybe I'd overreacted to my tarot card reading just a smidge. After all, Bradley did tell me in no uncertain terms that Pauline was just his secretary. And one person didn't make a love triangle, right? I texted him an enthusiastic "It's a date!" and tossed the phone into my bag. "Speaking of information, do we have background checks on the Oleander Place employees?"
"David finished them late yesterday. Everyone was clean except for one of the tour guides, Scarlett Heinz. Last year she was charged with assaulting a woman."
"I wonder if it was because the woman teased her about her name," I said. "I mean, it's essentially 'Red Ketchup.'"
Veronica shot me a look. "I seriously doubt it."
I looked out the passenger window and mused, "So Miss Scarlett has a colored past…"
"If you're thinking about moving on to Clue jokes, don't," Veronica said, leaning menacingly toward me.
I moved closer to the passenger door, just to be safe. "Did you have David run a check on Delta too?"
"Yeah. Nothing."
"So, assuming Ivanna was murdered, do you think there's any chance that Delta's involved? She seems kind of proud of the fact that her plantation has a murderous history."
Veronica shook her head. "When your business is weddings, charity dinners, and craft fairs, you don't want this kind of publicity. You heard Delta say that the media coverage is costing her clients, and she practically threatened us if we went to the press."
"True," I said, again glancing out the window. We were approaching Oleander Place, and the view was spectacular. Oleander bushes dotted the grounds like pink flamingos, and there were two rows of centuries-old Southern live oak trees that dutifully lined the walkway leading to the plantation like soldiers standing at attention. Now that I was focusing on the house instead of the back of Bradley's BMW, I realized that it was painted the palest shade of pink, as was the colonnade that wrapped around the three-story home. I shifted my gaze uneasily to the balcony, and to my relief there was no sign of Evangeline.
Veronica pulled into a long driveway and parked in a lot in the back of the house that was conveniently located next to a ticket booth. Directly in front of the parking lot were the slaves' quarters and a gift shop with a restaurant. Beyond the gift shop were two old sugar mills and the sugar cane fields.
"Any special instructions, capo ?" Veronica asked.
I got a little thrill from being called "boss," but I acted casual. "Yeah, look for any evidence that Ivanna's death was actually a murder."
"On it."
As I stepped out of the car, I saw Delta and an older Southern gentleman in a seersucker suit standing on the back porch beside a magnolia tree. I felt like I was on the set of the Murder, She Wrote episode where Seth Hazlitt's plantation-owner cousin is battling a perfume company over the scent of the flowers from his secret magnolia tree. But I was quickly reminded that Delta was no Jessica Fletcher when I saw her shake her fist at the man, who cowered and held up his straw hat like a shield.
"You leave this property at once, Floyd Buford!" she shouted. "I don't want to see your face around here again."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Delta," he said with a slight warble in his voice. He placed his hat on his head. "But if
"It's not like I'm buying in to this whole psychic thing,'" I said, scratching my nose and visualizing Pinocchio. "But I am paying attention to the fact that she knows things about me and this case."
"Okay, but this is the information age," Veronica said with a pointed look. "She can go online and find out pretty much anything she wants to know, starting by looking at your meticulously maintained Facebook page."
My text message tone chimed.
Saved by the bell , I thought as I reached into my bag for my phone. When I read the display, I got a fluttery feeling in my chest.
Back in town tomorrow. Dinner at 7? Missing you, Bradley.
I smiled. Maybe I'd overreacted to my tarot card reading just a smidge. After all, Bradley did tell me in no uncertain terms that Pauline was just his secretary. And one person didn't make a love triangle, right? I texted him an enthusiastic "It's a date!" and tossed the phone into my bag. "Speaking of information, do we have background checks on the Oleander Place employees?"
"David finished them late yesterday. Everyone was clean except for one of the tour guides, Scarlett Heinz. Last year she was charged with assaulting a woman."
"I wonder if it was because the woman teased her about her name," I said. "I mean, it's essentially 'Red Ketchup.'"
Veronica shot me a look. "I seriously doubt it."
I looked out the passenger window and mused, "So Miss Scarlett has a colored past…"
"If you're thinking about moving on to Clue jokes, don't," Veronica said, leaning menacingly toward me.
I moved closer to the passenger door, just to be safe. "Did you have David run a check on Delta too?"
"Yeah. Nothing."
"So, assuming Ivanna was murdered, do you think there's any chance that Delta's involved? She seems kind of proud of the fact that her plantation has a murderous history."
Veronica shook her head. "When your business is weddings, charity dinners, and craft fairs, you don't want this kind of publicity. You heard Delta say that the media coverage is costing her clients, and she practically threatened us if we went to the press."
"True," I said, again glancing out the window. We were approaching Oleander Place, and the view was spectacular. Oleander bushes dotted the grounds like pink flamingos, and there were two rows of centuries-old Southern live oak trees that dutifully lined the walkway leading to the plantation like soldiers standing at attention. Now that I was focusing on the house instead of the back of Bradley's BMW, I realized that it was painted the palest shade of pink, as was the colonnade that wrapped around the three-story home. I shifted my gaze uneasily to the balcony, and to my relief there was no sign of Evangeline.
Veronica pulled into a long driveway and parked in a lot in the back of the house that was conveniently located next to a ticket booth. Directly in front of the parking lot were the slaves' quarters and a gift shop with a restaurant. Beyond the gift shop were two old sugar mills and the sugar cane fields.
"Any special instructions, capo ?" Veronica asked.
I got a little thrill from being called "boss," but I acted casual. "Yeah, look for any evidence that Ivanna's death was actually a murder."
"On it."
As I stepped out of the car, I saw Delta and an older Southern gentleman in a seersucker suit standing on the back porch beside a magnolia tree. I felt like I was on the set of the Murder, She Wrote episode where Seth Hazlitt's plantation-owner cousin is battling a perfume company over the scent of the flowers from his secret magnolia tree. But I was quickly reminded that Delta was no Jessica Fletcher when I saw her shake her fist at the man, who cowered and held up his straw hat like a shield.
"You leave this property at once, Floyd Buford!" she shouted. "I don't want to see your face around here again."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Delta," he said with a slight warble in his voice. He placed his hat on his head. "But if
Similar Books
