Read Online The Glass Is Always Greener by Tamar Myers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tamar Myers
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bristled. “Don’t think I’m naive, ladies, because I’m not. Granny Ledbetter didn’t raise any fools. I saw right through Uncle Rufus Ledbetter’s scheme to get investors for the Trans-Atlantic Tunnel Project. New York to Paris in three days by car, he said. Underwater hotels. Every room would offer a fantastic opportunity for viewing deep-sea life.”
“It sounds great,” Wynnell said, “if you’re not claustrophobic.”
“It might have been a good idea at one time,” Mama said sadly. “But nowadays—with the threat of terrorism—I wouldn’t want to be stuck at the bottom of the ocean.”
“I wouldn’t either,” I said. “And I’m sure you saw the drawbacks, C.J., which is why I want you on my team.”
“Teams,” Mama said. “Are we going to play games?”
“That’s exactly right, and it’s going to be you and Wynnell and against C.J. and me.”
“Ooh,” C.J. cooed. “I love it when Abby gets like this.”
“I’m trying to frown,” Wynnell said, “but I can’t feel my brow scrunch up. Having two brows is for the birds.”
“It’s very becoming,” I said. “Isn’t it, ladies?”
“I liked the unibrow better,” C.J. said. “It was more—uh—distinctive. Now you’re actually kind of pretty.”
“Beautiful, in fact,” I said.
“Mozella, you see what you did?” Wynnell cried accusingly. “You made me beautiful! Now, if I’m not careful, I might get prideful; all on account of you.”
Wynnell’s outburst got the attention of everyone in the coffee shop. Their stares made my dear friend all the more uncomfortable. As usual, it was time for me to step in.
I jumped on the banquette. “Please, folks,” I said, waving my arms, “can’t you see this woman is distressed. The poor woman has just found out she’s the inadvertent mother of Sarah Palin. Let’s give her some privacy, shall we?”
“Oh come on,” a beefy man in khaki shorts and wife-beater T-shirt said. “That’s a bunch of bull.”
“It is not ,” I said. “Wynnell, what is the capital of Africa?”
Wynnell is a staunch Republican and we have agreed never to discuss politics. However, if there is one thing she can’t stand, it’s a fat man in a wife-beater T-shirt butting into her business.
“The capital of Africa is Nairobi,” she said, utterly deadpan.
“You see?” I said. “Now leave her alone, y’all.”
I slid back into the booth. “Okay, gals, where were we?”
“The game,” Mama said. “Do we need a deck of cards?” She reached into her handbag and pulled out two pill cases, a battery-powered fan, three pairs of drugstore reading glasses, a six-inch bust of Nefertiti, an oversized Christmas card, and a Portuguese language thesaurus. But no deck of playing cards.
“Mama, why so many pairs of glasses?”
“Frankly, dear, I’m too lazy to check, and since I’d rather be safe than sorry, I throw an extra pair in.”
“Gotcha. And no, we don’t need cards. The game is solving a murder.”
Everyone groaned.
“Okay, so y’all have been there, done that; but this time it’s different. We’re working in two teams, and we’re going to solve it in eight hours. It is now ten o’clock—give or take a couple of minutes, at least by that the clock on the wall—and by six o’clock tonight, we’ll have this case cracked.”
“Can we go to dinner then and celebrate?” Mama said. She’s always concerned that I’m not eating enough—well, that’s when she isn’t concerned that I’m eating too much.
“What makes you think we can crack this case if the police haven’t so far?” Wynnell said.
“The murder only happened yesterday ,” I said. “By the way, you scowl much better with the unibrow; I vote that you grow it back.”
“Hear, hear,” the others said in unison.
“So anyway, here are the players, guys.” I proceeded to tell them everything I knew about the Ovumkoph family, naming Ben, Aaron, Melissa, Sam, Tina, and Chanti as possible suspects.
“It sounds great,” Wynnell said, “if you’re not claustrophobic.”
“It might have been a good idea at one time,” Mama said sadly. “But nowadays—with the threat of terrorism—I wouldn’t want to be stuck at the bottom of the ocean.”
“I wouldn’t either,” I said. “And I’m sure you saw the drawbacks, C.J., which is why I want you on my team.”
“Teams,” Mama said. “Are we going to play games?”
“That’s exactly right, and it’s going to be you and Wynnell and against C.J. and me.”
“Ooh,” C.J. cooed. “I love it when Abby gets like this.”
“I’m trying to frown,” Wynnell said, “but I can’t feel my brow scrunch up. Having two brows is for the birds.”
“It’s very becoming,” I said. “Isn’t it, ladies?”
“I liked the unibrow better,” C.J. said. “It was more—uh—distinctive. Now you’re actually kind of pretty.”
“Beautiful, in fact,” I said.
“Mozella, you see what you did?” Wynnell cried accusingly. “You made me beautiful! Now, if I’m not careful, I might get prideful; all on account of you.”
Wynnell’s outburst got the attention of everyone in the coffee shop. Their stares made my dear friend all the more uncomfortable. As usual, it was time for me to step in.
I jumped on the banquette. “Please, folks,” I said, waving my arms, “can’t you see this woman is distressed. The poor woman has just found out she’s the inadvertent mother of Sarah Palin. Let’s give her some privacy, shall we?”
“Oh come on,” a beefy man in khaki shorts and wife-beater T-shirt said. “That’s a bunch of bull.”
“It is not ,” I said. “Wynnell, what is the capital of Africa?”
Wynnell is a staunch Republican and we have agreed never to discuss politics. However, if there is one thing she can’t stand, it’s a fat man in a wife-beater T-shirt butting into her business.
“The capital of Africa is Nairobi,” she said, utterly deadpan.
“You see?” I said. “Now leave her alone, y’all.”
I slid back into the booth. “Okay, gals, where were we?”
“The game,” Mama said. “Do we need a deck of cards?” She reached into her handbag and pulled out two pill cases, a battery-powered fan, three pairs of drugstore reading glasses, a six-inch bust of Nefertiti, an oversized Christmas card, and a Portuguese language thesaurus. But no deck of playing cards.
“Mama, why so many pairs of glasses?”
“Frankly, dear, I’m too lazy to check, and since I’d rather be safe than sorry, I throw an extra pair in.”
“Gotcha. And no, we don’t need cards. The game is solving a murder.”
Everyone groaned.
“Okay, so y’all have been there, done that; but this time it’s different. We’re working in two teams, and we’re going to solve it in eight hours. It is now ten o’clock—give or take a couple of minutes, at least by that the clock on the wall—and by six o’clock tonight, we’ll have this case cracked.”
“Can we go to dinner then and celebrate?” Mama said. She’s always concerned that I’m not eating enough—well, that’s when she isn’t concerned that I’m eating too much.
“What makes you think we can crack this case if the police haven’t so far?” Wynnell said.
“The murder only happened yesterday ,” I said. “By the way, you scowl much better with the unibrow; I vote that you grow it back.”
“Hear, hear,” the others said in unison.
“So anyway, here are the players, guys.” I proceeded to tell them everything I knew about the Ovumkoph family, naming Ben, Aaron, Melissa, Sam, Tina, and Chanti as possible suspects.
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