Read Online The Icing on the Corpse by Mary Jane Maffini - Free Book Online

Lindsay will appreciate what you did. It was your way to combat Benning. And that's what this ice sculpture event is all about. You have to admit it's a worthwhile cause. Women Against Violence Everywhere plans to raise awareness of issues of domestic violence with it.”
    â€œRaise this.” Alvin lifted his skinny middle finger.

Seven
    I t was pushing five thirty and dark again when Elaine dropped me at my apartment building. My lousy mood was compounded by the fact that Elaine and Alvin had sulked all the way to Alvin's place. But that was small potatoes compared to the fact that Ralph Benning remained on the loose.
    Since I hadn't eaten all day, my plan was to snatch a bite, take a quick bath, then toss a few essentials into a suitcase. With Benning still at large, Merv and I would take shifts on alert throughout the night at Lindsay's. I didn't see how Benning could get past the police guard, but if he was going to make an attempt, he'd almost certainly do it in the dead of night. Having to do guard duty at Lindsay's relieved me of ice sculpture commitments, but it would take more than that to let me relax.
    I skulked into the elevator and headed for the sixteenth floor.
    Some people you don't want to run into after a hellish day. My neighbour, Mrs. Parnell, is at the top of the list. Mrs. Parnell had not learned to mind her own business in the first seventy-seven years of her life, and I didn't have much hope she'd start now. I barreled down the long hallway with my head down. I smelled the smoke before I spotted the glowing tip of her cigarette.
    â€œAh, Ms. MacPhee.” Mrs. Parnell leaned forward on her walker. “What an outfit. I must say, you look even less fashionable than usual. Still, it is nice to see you.”
    â€œNothing is nice,” I said.
    A waft of Benson and Hedges smoke tickled my nose. “Can't be that bad, Ms. MacPhee.” You can always count on Mrs. Parnell to take the opposite point of view.
    â€œCan be and is.” My frozen toes contributed to the bitchy tone in my voice. As did the news that the damage to my car would be at least two thousand dollars. Plus, my insurance company thought driving into metal gates to avoid death constituted “at fault” on Alvin's part. And I'd been indiscreet when a newswire reporter caught me on the cellphone in a weak moment on the way home. I did not want to socialize.
    But avoiding Mrs. Parnell was one of those camel through the eye of a needle situations. If I hadn't owed my life to the woman, I would have told her to go to hell on the spot.
    â€œNothing a taste of sherry wouldn't fix,” she said evilly.
    I know when I'm licked. Bite the bullet, get it over with. If I didn't want to feel Mrs. Parnell's stainless-steel eyes trained on my door for the rest of the evening, I'd have to have a sherry with her and fill her in.
    â€œSure. Let me ditch these frozen boots, and I'll be right over.”
    I hobbled into my apartment, peeled off my outer layers and slipped my numb feet out of the boots. Mrs. Parnell's little calico cat followed me. I bent over to give her a stroke. This was one night it would have been nice to come home to a cozy, warm, well-furnished home with curtains on the windows and food in the fridge. But you can't have it all. Mrs. Parnell's calico was sure glad to see me. I'd given the calico to Mrs. Parnell as a demonstration of gratitude, but due to some outstanding issues, I generally fed the cat and offered her a place to sleep on my bed. She spent her days in my apartment and didn't even seem to hold a grudge after I took her to be fixed.
    Five minutes later, I pushed open the door to 1608, and Mrs. Parnell's peach-faced love birds shrieked in alarm. I limped over to the capacious leather lounger and sank into it. Might as well have the best seat in the house. I curled up and rubbed my toes. Mrs. Parnell's apartment is furnished in leather, brushed chrome, glass, serious stereo components and,