Read Online The Saucy Lucy Murders by Cindy Keen Reynders - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cindy Keen Reynders
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work to the police, sister dear. He would not want us to endanger our lives.”
“Fine then,” Lexie snapped. “I’ll do this by myself.”
Lucy sighed. “Over my dead body.”
After paying for the nail jobs, Lexie and Lucy discussed when they could set off on their next fact-finding adventure. Lucy had promised Reverend Lincolnway she would clean the church again and she knew it would take her several days to polish the wooden pews, wash stained glass windows and scrubwalls. Any bar business would have to be conducted later in the week. They decided they would meet at MacGreggor’s Pub on Friday at eight o’clock.
As far as Lexie was concerned, she would have rather gone to the bar sooner, by herself if necessary, to carry out the amateur investigation. But Lucy would hear nothing of it. She insisted that although the good Lord would no doubt be disappointed to see His loyal handmaiden frequenting a bar, despite her true purpose, she would not allow her baby sister to enter into the lion’s den alone.
Lexie reluctantly agreed, even down to the pinkie promise she would wait until Friday before heading off to MacGreggor’s. Pinkie promises were a serious thing between sisters, so when they locked little fingers, she knew she’d be in real trouble if she were to go back on her agreement.
Back at the café, she seriously considered ripping off the red acrylics. It’d be hell to prepare food for her customers with those things clamped on her fingers.
But it was almost lunchtime, so the little torture devices would have to remain in place for now. Before long, the crowd began to shuffle in and Lexie put on her best customer-service face, despite her anxiety about where she and Lucy’s murder investigation would lead.
She nodded to her regulars who included old Ian Fletcher, a retired army type from the Vietnam War who liked to hunt and fish, and his wife Akiko, a tiny Japanese lady whom Ian had married a few yearsago and brought to live with him in Moose Creek Junction. Rumor had it that Ian had met her in an Oriental massage parlor in Denver, but Akiko was a nice enough lady and Lexie never paid much attention to the jaw-flappers in town.
Lexie went out to their favorite table by the large bay window. Most people ordered at the window, but Akiko and Ian liked someone to come to their table. Since they were such good customers, Lexie accommodated them.
Akiko, about ten years younger than her husband, ordered her usual pot of green tea, an egg salad sandwich on honey oat bread and a piece of apple pie. Ian, probably in his mid-fifties, wore a plaid flannel shirt in his thin frame, frayed jeans, and boots, and had his hair tied back with a leather thong. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth as he muttered his order to Lexie. It was different from the usual of chicken salad on rye. In what seemed an unusually soft spoken manner for a former sergeant, used to barking orders, he ordered tuna on rye, along with a piece of peach pie and black coffee.
He must be branching out, Lexie thought, recalling Akiko had once mentioned to her that Ian moved and spoke quietly all the time. The reason, she told Lexie, went back to his army survival training. The men who’d served tours in Vietnam learned to move stealthily and speak as little or quietly as possible while they patrolled the thick jungles, praying the Viet Cong wouldn’t detect their movements.
“Konichi wa, Rexie-san,”
Akiko commented in her pigeon English when Lexie brought their food. Akiko couldn’t pronounce her els at all, so some of her words came out sounding strange. “You sick maybe? You eyes very sad.”
“I’m just tired. There’s been a lot going on lately.”
“Ah, I see.” Akiko tilted her head to the side, a lock of graying black hair falling out of her pixie hair cut. “Ian and I hear about that man who was, how to say …” She looked up at the ceiling.
“Murder?
”
Lexie nodded, not liking where the conversation was
“Fine then,” Lexie snapped. “I’ll do this by myself.”
Lucy sighed. “Over my dead body.”
After paying for the nail jobs, Lexie and Lucy discussed when they could set off on their next fact-finding adventure. Lucy had promised Reverend Lincolnway she would clean the church again and she knew it would take her several days to polish the wooden pews, wash stained glass windows and scrubwalls. Any bar business would have to be conducted later in the week. They decided they would meet at MacGreggor’s Pub on Friday at eight o’clock.
As far as Lexie was concerned, she would have rather gone to the bar sooner, by herself if necessary, to carry out the amateur investigation. But Lucy would hear nothing of it. She insisted that although the good Lord would no doubt be disappointed to see His loyal handmaiden frequenting a bar, despite her true purpose, she would not allow her baby sister to enter into the lion’s den alone.
Lexie reluctantly agreed, even down to the pinkie promise she would wait until Friday before heading off to MacGreggor’s. Pinkie promises were a serious thing between sisters, so when they locked little fingers, she knew she’d be in real trouble if she were to go back on her agreement.
Back at the café, she seriously considered ripping off the red acrylics. It’d be hell to prepare food for her customers with those things clamped on her fingers.
But it was almost lunchtime, so the little torture devices would have to remain in place for now. Before long, the crowd began to shuffle in and Lexie put on her best customer-service face, despite her anxiety about where she and Lucy’s murder investigation would lead.
She nodded to her regulars who included old Ian Fletcher, a retired army type from the Vietnam War who liked to hunt and fish, and his wife Akiko, a tiny Japanese lady whom Ian had married a few yearsago and brought to live with him in Moose Creek Junction. Rumor had it that Ian had met her in an Oriental massage parlor in Denver, but Akiko was a nice enough lady and Lexie never paid much attention to the jaw-flappers in town.
Lexie went out to their favorite table by the large bay window. Most people ordered at the window, but Akiko and Ian liked someone to come to their table. Since they were such good customers, Lexie accommodated them.
Akiko, about ten years younger than her husband, ordered her usual pot of green tea, an egg salad sandwich on honey oat bread and a piece of apple pie. Ian, probably in his mid-fifties, wore a plaid flannel shirt in his thin frame, frayed jeans, and boots, and had his hair tied back with a leather thong. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth as he muttered his order to Lexie. It was different from the usual of chicken salad on rye. In what seemed an unusually soft spoken manner for a former sergeant, used to barking orders, he ordered tuna on rye, along with a piece of peach pie and black coffee.
He must be branching out, Lexie thought, recalling Akiko had once mentioned to her that Ian moved and spoke quietly all the time. The reason, she told Lexie, went back to his army survival training. The men who’d served tours in Vietnam learned to move stealthily and speak as little or quietly as possible while they patrolled the thick jungles, praying the Viet Cong wouldn’t detect their movements.
“Konichi wa, Rexie-san,”
Akiko commented in her pigeon English when Lexie brought their food. Akiko couldn’t pronounce her els at all, so some of her words came out sounding strange. “You sick maybe? You eyes very sad.”
“I’m just tired. There’s been a lot going on lately.”
“Ah, I see.” Akiko tilted her head to the side, a lock of graying black hair falling out of her pixie hair cut. “Ian and I hear about that man who was, how to say …” She looked up at the ceiling.
“Murder?
”
Lexie nodded, not liking where the conversation was
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