Read Online Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay by Shelley Freydont - Free Book Online Page B
Book: Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay by Shelley Freydont
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Shelley Freydont
Ads: Link
too?”
Ted slowed down to make the turn into her driveway, drove all the way to the end, and stopped in front of her carriage house.
“I haven’t the foggiest. Good night, Liv.”
Interrogation closed. She wouldn’t be learning any more from Ted tonight. It was standard operating procedure, making her work for information. It heightened the drama and Ted’s entertainment. Though tonight he didn’t seem to be enjoying the game.
“Good night,” she said. It didn’t matter. She’d find out. Eventually. She always did.
• • •
Liv’s alarm went off way too early the next morning. For a few minutes she just lay blinking into the darkened bedroom. But she got up and was halfway to the bathroom before she remembered why she’d stayed up so late last night. Leo… She didn’t even know Leo’s last name.
She showered and went back to her bedroom, where a sleepy Westie opened one eye, then closed it again. He thought it was way too early to wake up on a Saturday morning.
“It’s parade day,” she said as brightly as she could manage.
He blinked, then lowered his muzzle to his paws and settled back down onto his plaid doggie bed.
“People will be dropping food all day.”
Whiskey sneezed.
“And your friend Leo is in big trouble.”
His ears flew up, he wriggled up to all fours and barked.
“Thought you’d want to know. Though I don’t see how any of us can help. Nasty stuff is going on out there.” Hopefully the parade would go off without a hitch.
Liv looked in her closet. It was going to be a scorcher. Somehow a flowered sundress didn’t strike her as appropriate parade wear, but she’d just about exhausted her red, white, and blue options.
And it was really hard to care about clothes when a man had been murdered and a young teenager was the most obvious suspect.
But she couldn’t stand staring into her closet all morning. She had a responsibility, a job to do—a red, white, and blue job to do.
She pushed back some hangers and began rummaging through the contents of her closet. She’d had to invest in a whole new wardrobe since moving to Celebration Bay.
She hadn’t realized when she’d interviewed for the job that theme was the almighty arbiter of fashion. Even on nonspecific holidays, anyone with a store or a function dressed to the hilt. Liv had made it through fall okay, thanks to one late-night Internet shopping spree right before she left Manhattan. She’d been buying haphazardly and at the last minute ever since.
She pulled out a pink T-shirt. She’d meant to recycle some pink and red from the strawberry festival. Unfortunately the T-shirt, as well as other garments, were hopelessly stained, as the berries had been sweet, juicy, and detergent-proof.
She pulled on a pair of jeans. Not exactly the blue of the flag, but they would have to do. The only other blue she had were dark-wash jean shorts, and they were way too short for the public, according to her landladies.
She selected a white T-shirt, ran a scarf through the belt loops, and carefully twisted the Hermès pattern to accent the red. Hopefully the purple swirls would look like blue.
But one glance in the mirror made her cringe. Not only did she look like she’d seen a body and spent most of the night at the police station, she seriously needed a wardrobe upgrade.
Next month. August would be fairly easy. She would organize her coming year and purchase accordingly while she had the chance. She never had time for shopping once the holiday season began.
She brushed her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it through the opening of the blue cap she’d bought on the street the day before. Hopefully she would look official enough to be authoritative if the need arose and patriotic enough to pass local opinion.
Sensing adventure—and breakfast—ahead, Whiskey rolled out of bed, shook vigorously, and trotted down the hall to the back door.
She let him out and put out a bowl of food, which he scarfed down
Ted slowed down to make the turn into her driveway, drove all the way to the end, and stopped in front of her carriage house.
“I haven’t the foggiest. Good night, Liv.”
Interrogation closed. She wouldn’t be learning any more from Ted tonight. It was standard operating procedure, making her work for information. It heightened the drama and Ted’s entertainment. Though tonight he didn’t seem to be enjoying the game.
“Good night,” she said. It didn’t matter. She’d find out. Eventually. She always did.
• • •
Liv’s alarm went off way too early the next morning. For a few minutes she just lay blinking into the darkened bedroom. But she got up and was halfway to the bathroom before she remembered why she’d stayed up so late last night. Leo… She didn’t even know Leo’s last name.
She showered and went back to her bedroom, where a sleepy Westie opened one eye, then closed it again. He thought it was way too early to wake up on a Saturday morning.
“It’s parade day,” she said as brightly as she could manage.
He blinked, then lowered his muzzle to his paws and settled back down onto his plaid doggie bed.
“People will be dropping food all day.”
Whiskey sneezed.
“And your friend Leo is in big trouble.”
His ears flew up, he wriggled up to all fours and barked.
“Thought you’d want to know. Though I don’t see how any of us can help. Nasty stuff is going on out there.” Hopefully the parade would go off without a hitch.
Liv looked in her closet. It was going to be a scorcher. Somehow a flowered sundress didn’t strike her as appropriate parade wear, but she’d just about exhausted her red, white, and blue options.
And it was really hard to care about clothes when a man had been murdered and a young teenager was the most obvious suspect.
But she couldn’t stand staring into her closet all morning. She had a responsibility, a job to do—a red, white, and blue job to do.
She pushed back some hangers and began rummaging through the contents of her closet. She’d had to invest in a whole new wardrobe since moving to Celebration Bay.
She hadn’t realized when she’d interviewed for the job that theme was the almighty arbiter of fashion. Even on nonspecific holidays, anyone with a store or a function dressed to the hilt. Liv had made it through fall okay, thanks to one late-night Internet shopping spree right before she left Manhattan. She’d been buying haphazardly and at the last minute ever since.
She pulled out a pink T-shirt. She’d meant to recycle some pink and red from the strawberry festival. Unfortunately the T-shirt, as well as other garments, were hopelessly stained, as the berries had been sweet, juicy, and detergent-proof.
She pulled on a pair of jeans. Not exactly the blue of the flag, but they would have to do. The only other blue she had were dark-wash jean shorts, and they were way too short for the public, according to her landladies.
She selected a white T-shirt, ran a scarf through the belt loops, and carefully twisted the Hermès pattern to accent the red. Hopefully the purple swirls would look like blue.
But one glance in the mirror made her cringe. Not only did she look like she’d seen a body and spent most of the night at the police station, she seriously needed a wardrobe upgrade.
Next month. August would be fairly easy. She would organize her coming year and purchase accordingly while she had the chance. She never had time for shopping once the holiday season began.
She brushed her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it through the opening of the blue cap she’d bought on the street the day before. Hopefully she would look official enough to be authoritative if the need arose and patriotic enough to pass local opinion.
Sensing adventure—and breakfast—ahead, Whiskey rolled out of bed, shook vigorously, and trotted down the hall to the back door.
She let him out and put out a bowl of food, which he scarfed down
Similar Books
