Read Online Shoots to Kill by Kate Collins - Free Book Online Page B

so I explained that I brought them here. She asked to see some of my work, so I invited her over to see my new creations. You should have seen her face, Abigail. She was absolutely amazed. Now I’m going to be one of her featured artists. Can you believe it?”
    “That’s great,” was all I could think to say. No way could I tell Mom anything hurtful, but I doubted Libby had been amazed. Appalled was more like it. So what was Libby really after? Did she want Mom’s art to make me jealous? Or did she want my mom?
    “I should get this down to Blume’s.” Mom started toward the door, then paused. “Will you come with me?”
    No way! was on the tip of my tongue. Watching her hand Libby the jacket that should have been in my shop was the last thing I wanted to do. But I caught a vulnerability in Mom’s expression that told me she was nervous. Maybe having me at her side would give her a boost of confidence. Or maybe I just wanted to be there to remind Libby whose mother she was.
    I smiled. “Sure. I’ll walk over with you.”
    The relief in my mom’s eyes made my decision the right one.
    Ten minutes later, I opened the other yellow door and watched Mom carry in her pride and joy du jour. I followed her inside, then stared around in astonishment. Libby had re-created Bloomers’ interior.
    She’d copied my shop cleverly. In place of my wreaths and swags, her walls were filled with art. Her curtain was ice blue, not purple, and her display furniture held clay, wood, and glass sculptures instead of flower arrangements. A small alcove on the right even held a white wrought iron table and chair set, with a small coffee bar nearby. It wouldn’t be obvious to the casual observer—but I knew.
    My gut feeling had been right. Libby was out for revenge. She had taken over my cousin, my haircut, my mother’s art, and my seat at our family dinner, and now she’d stolen the look of my shop inside and out. Where would it end? How far would she go to get even with me?
    “Mom,” I said quietly, taking her arm, “let’s go back to Bloomers.”
    “Why?”
    “There are things you don’t know about Libby.”
    “Abigail, don’t be jealous. Even if I don’t show my art at Bloomers anymore, I still love you. This is a big opportunity for me, honey. You understand, don’t you?”
    I gazed into her hopeful eyes, ready to make a stronger case, but I couldn’t do it. The art meant too much to her. I glanced around for Libby, but saw only a hulking, thick-bodied woman perched on a stool behind the counter, immersed in a paperback, oblivious to our presence. She had a small head topped by short, coarse, steel gray hair; beady eyes; a long, narrow nose; and no chin to speak of. She had on a shapeless blue denim jumper over a dingy white shirt with a scarf at her neck that looked like a man’s red bandanna.
    When I cleared my throat, the woman looked up, obviously annoyed that her concentration had been broken. “Wotcher want, then?” she snarled with a strong cockney accent. “We’re not open fer business yet.”
    If this woman was Libby’s salesclerk, her shop was doomed.
    “My name is Maureen Knight,” Mom explained with her patient teacher’s smile. “I’m supposed to bring this jacket over for the fashion display.”
    The woman’s beady eyes bugged at the sight of the jacket. “Wot? That thing ’ere? Yer not serious?”
    Mom looked shaken, so I said firmly, “May we see Libby Blume, please?”
    “Not ’ere,” the woman grunted. “ ’Er muvver popped in, din’t she, and they took orff. ’Er bruvver’s in back if’n yer want ter talk wif summin else.”
    Mom glanced at me for help. “Libby left with her mother,” I interpreted. “Her brother’s in back if you want to talk with someone else.” Wow. Watching all those mysteries on BBC America had finally paid off.
    “Can I just leave the jacket here with a note for her?” Mom asked.
    “No skin orff my teeth,” the woman said, returning to her