Read Online Sugarplum Dead by Carolyn Hart - Free Book Online

didn’t actually push her—toward the path and they were walking out of the cemetery.
    Annie knew that Laurel, with her uncanny ability to pick up on nuances, perceived Annie’s turmoil and she was deflecting Gertrude just as surely as a magician whips a red scarf to conceal the hidden ace. Gertrude kept attempting to turn and look back at Annie and her father, but Laurel firmly grasped her arm and moved them ahead at a rapid rate. And, of course, Annie thought sourly, she was also avoiding a grilling by Annie.
    Annie allowed herself to lag back. She didn’t intend to talk to her unwelcome companion, but she was not eager to end up by the gate to face Gertrude’s scrutiny. She walked slowly and stared down at the dusty gray path.
    â€œThere’s something rotten going on.” Pudge Laurance reached out and gripped Annie’s arm.
    She swung to face him, yanking her arm free. She realized abruptly that he wasn’t looking at her. He had stopped, too, but his eyes followed the women on the path as they curved around a clump of pines and out of sight. His pleasant face was somber, his gaze worried. He tugged at his mustache.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Why should he care about gossip? Besides, no man would likely pick up on Laurel’sartful handling of Gertrude and the reason why. As for Laurel—and no doubt he, too, had overheard that disturbing soliloquy—why should he care what Laurel did?
    He bent his head, deep in thought, fingers still tugging at his mustache.
    In the silence, Annie studied the man who meant both too much and too little to her. He might have been any island visitor, a blue polo shirt and white crew-neck sweater, khaki slacks, running shoes, but his intelligent features were too bleak for a man on a holiday. He looked up, and his eyes demanded her attention.
    â€œThis Dr. Swanson she talked about—”
    So he had overheard Laurel.
    â€œâ€”he’s the guy Happy says is taking advantage of her sister. He…”
    Annie folded her arms, held them tightly against her. She shut out his voice. What was it he had said that first day—“Annie, I’ve looked for you for a long, long time?” Had she ever, even for an instant, believed that he had come to the island seeking her?
    â€œHappy?” Annie’s voice was harsh. “Who’s Happy?”
    Pudge Laurance shoved a hand through his hair. A lock dangled forward and he looked boyish—boyish and uncertain. He swallowed. “Happy’s my ex-wife and her sister is—”
    Annie didn’t wait to hear. She broke into a run, the dust scuffing beneath her feet. She never wanted to hear about this wife or any wife. Ex-wife. That would be expected, wouldn’t it, of a man who wasn’t there for anyone, not for Annie’s mother or Annie or this Happy, whoever she was. Annie felt the hot rush of tears. He hadn’t come to the island to look for her. She should have known that right from the first. She happened to be living where he cameto see an ex-wife. That was right in character, wasn’t it? His arrival had nothing to do with Annie.
    As she burst through the gate, veered toward her car, she saw Laurel’s outstretched hand, heard her soft, “Oh,” and she saw, too, the avid delight in Gertrude’s face. Ignoring them both as well as the shout from behind her, Annie slammed into the Volvo, twisted the ignition, pumped the gas and jolted the Volvo back far enough from the blue Morris to swing around and gun toward the dim tunnel beneath the live oaks.

Four
    A LIGHT FLASHED on his phone. Max pushed back his Christmas list—wouldn’t Annie be pleased with the elegant parchment map of St. Mary Mead?—and punched on the speaker phone.
    â€œMax Darling.” He scanned the rest of his list:
    A treasure box tied with a red ribbon with contents that should amaze her.
    A yellow cashmere sweater.
    A box of Godiva raspberry