Read Online The Corpse With the Golden Nose by Cathy Ace - Free Book Online

mousse that’s supposed to give volume to fine hair, and enough hairspray to jeopardize the entire ozone layer. But I wasn’t happy with the outcome. Something which Bud quickly deduced.
    â€œYour hair looks great when it’s down like that, Cait.” He smiled again. “Honestly. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it and you look lovely in that gown. It’s very flattering.”
    â€œIt’s plain black, with a jacket to hide my arms, and you’ve seen it before,” I replied sulkily.
    Bud pulled up my chin and looked deep into my eyes. “Caitlin Morgan. You’re gorgeous. I love you. Do you care what other people think of you? I mean, really ?”
    I smiled back up at him. “I love you too. That you think I am gorgeous means the world to me.” All of which was true. “And I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me, you’re right.” We kissed. Gently.
    â€œAre you two coming down?” called Ellen Newman from the bottom of the stairs, brightly enough, but I was convinced she thought we were up to something.
    â€œComing right down,” I replied, just as brightly. Bud and I followed her into the little lounge area to the left of the staircase, the mirror image of the breakfasting area we’d been in earlier that afternoon.
    The aroma of the wonderful soup had been replaced by something more oniony, herby, and porky, yet still pleasant, but the matter at hand was still murder. We settled into comfy chairs, and I opened with, “Thanks for taking the time to write all those notes—they’ve been most helpful,” I half lied. “I don’t think there’s anything else we need to know right now except, maybe, one or two things.” Bud was on the edge of his chair, probably worried about what I was going to say.
    â€œAnything,” replied Ellen, who seemed to think that a short, forest-green velvet skirt, with a too-vivid orange silk blouse worn loosely over it, comprised formal wear. I could tell by the way she was eyeing us that she felt uncomfortable about something, so before I started to ask questions about Annette’s death, I thought it best to follow my instincts.
    â€œIs something wrong?” I asked.
    Ellen wriggled in her seat. “Not really,” she replied, clearly not meaning it.
    â€œAre you sure?” asked Bud, quickly following my lead.
    Ellen sighed. “It’s just that I thought that you’d be the one helping me, Bud. Not that I wouldn’t want your help, too, Cait. But Bud’s the one with the policing background. His experience is what counts here. That’s why I really asked you to come. When I was here earlier, Cait was the one asking all the questions. And now, with all due respect and all that, it seems like you’re going to do the same thing again.” She almost glared at me.
    She had a point. A marketing professor probably wouldn’t be the one doing the interrogating if there was an ex-cop in the room. Luckily, Bud came to the rescue.
    â€œI know what you mean, Ellen,” he said reassuringly, “and I also know it’s my opinion you’re really interested in. But I told Cait she could be involved, and she’s often discussed other cases with me. Besides, she was a real help, reading your notes aloud to me as we drove here,” he lied, “so she’s as up on the facts as I am. Possibly more so, because I was concentrating on the road. In any case, two brains are always better than one, right, Ellen? You see, while you value my professional input, I know the value of Cait’s amateur approach. It helps me see things from a different point of view.”
    Ellen nodded grudgingly, and I suspected that Bud was beginning to enjoy painting me as a rank outsider in the world of crime detection.
    â€œSo,” continued Bud, immediately comfortable in his role as head-of-investigation, “would it be possible to see the