Read Online The Marsh Madness by Victoria Abbott - Free Book Online Page B

down staircases like a wild animal. The books are quite pristine. We will have to move a few items on the shelves in the library to give them the appropriate space.”
    Well, there you go. Priorities.
    Signora Panetone shot out of the kitchen with a tower of fluffy blueberry pancakes for us. Maple syrup scented the air.
    Uncle Kev is always first to the table for any meal. Without taking his eye off the approaching pancakes, he said, “Not to be a jerk, Jordie, but that guy was kind of a cold fish.”
    I gave him the stink-eye, for all the good it did.
    “I guess all that money’s sitting there now. Yeah, thanks, Signora, I’ll have four pancakes, please.”
    Maybe the pancakes would take my mind off it too.
    “Did the butler do it?” Kev said. Or I think that’s what he said. His mouth was full.
    “I guess his housekeeper found him. Lance said it’s on the Internet. He had set an alert for the name and—”
    Vera glanced up. “No jabbering about the Internet here at breakfast, Miss Bingham. You know the rules.”
    “But Chadwick Kauffman is dead, Vera.”
    “Horrible little man. Nothing to do with us,” Vera said. “Stop loading up with those things, Fiammetta. One pancake is more than enough for me.”
    Chadwick might have been dead, but things were back to normal at Van Alst House.
    *   *   *
    NORMAL DIDN’T LAST all that long. For one thing, Uncle Lucky and his fairly new wife, my friend Karen Smith, arrived without warning and with Walter the Pug. Apparently, they had pressing business elsewhere and no pet accommodation. Would I take him? That was fine. Walter is actually quite a soothing little guy. It’s hard to remain glum in his presence. I patted his thick velvety fur and he scampered around, turning in circles and attempting to wag his curly nub of a tail.
    The truth is, although he’s Karen’s beloved pooch, he was with me a lot and I would have been very happy to offer him a forever home.
    I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
    With the definite exception of Good Cat and Bad Cat, Walter is popular and welcome at Van Alst House. I’m sure I’ve seen Vera almost smile at the sight of him. The signora was always cooking up endless dishes of chicken livers for him. The fondness was reciprocated.
    After breakfast, I headed back to my heavenly little attic rooms to do some research. Walter hotfooted it up the stairs ahead of me and with a snort made himself at home in themiddle of the flower-sprigged quilt. A Siamese stalked off in a huff, promising revenge, but leaving a warm spot on the quilt for Walter to press his wrinkled mug into and inhale noisily.
    Another Siamese raised a paw from under the bed and barely missed Walter’s muzzle. He scrambled for safety on higher ground and settled on my pillow.
    I got my legs out of reach and did a bit of searching, setting up a few new Google Alerts of my own. In a moment of weakness I actually browsed through the images, even though I knew that was morbid.
    None of the images that showed up were of Chadwick though. He seemed quite reclusive compared to his famous uncle. It was an hour or so later when one of the pings produced a link to a television story. There wasn’t much new, except that Chadwick’s employees seemed really choked up by the news when interviewers kept sticking mics under their noses. I found that hard to believe and felt guilty for thinking it.
    Something odd tickled the edge of my mind, and I rewatched the television interviews of the employees from the Country Club and Spa.
    As I played the clip of a reporter hounding Chadwick’s assistant and spokesperson identified as Lisa, I did a double take. I hadn’t caught Lisa’s last name, but this person, a red-eyed, red-nosed, choked-up woman, was definitely not Miss Troy. But I guess if you have bags of money, you might need a fleet of assistants and more than one Lisa.
    I searched online for Lisa Troy and found a number of accomplished women but not the skittish