Read Blanche on the Lam: A Blanche White Mystery for Free Online

long hall to the very front of the house. The hollow sound of their footfalls on the black and white marble floor seemed to scurry away to explore the distant corners of the large, cold space. She was aware that every place she'd ever lived could fit into this one marble warehouse. But why would anyone want a room where hard-seated chairs weren't even within shouting distance of one another? She pictured the forest green crushed-velvet living-room suite with the round chaise longue and copper studs down the sides of the sofa that she'd been drooling over in Lassiter's Fine Furniture Mart window. She never ceased to marvel over the ways rich people spent their money.
    Blanche was staring up at the cupids painted on the ceiling when the hair at the nape of her neck rose to attention. She turned and watched Everett coming toward her. He was pushing a wheelchair. The woman in the chair was asleep. Her dirty white sausage curls bobbed gently, like the head of the felt and plaster hound dog in the back window of Blanche's cousin Buddy's car.
    Old thing looks like she invented wrinkles, Blanche thought. She wore a short-sleeved pink and green floral-print dress of thesimple, very expensive variety. A white angora shawl rested on her shoulders and a dark green lap robe covered her lower body. She had about a quarter of a pound of rice powder on her face. “You remember Aunt Emmeline,” Grace whispered to Blanche, who nodded in the affirmative.
    Everett wheeled the chair ahead of them to the front door. “I'm afraid she's feeling poorly again.” Grace continued to whisper. Blanche gave Grace what she hoped was a sympathetic, understanding look and followed her outside.
    A long black limousine, made even darker by its tinted windows, was waiting for them at the bottom of the wide front stairs. There was a freshly painted wooden ramp to the left of the stairs. Mumsfield stood by the car, the back passenger door open. He bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet. He'd changed his orange suspenders for jonquil yellow ones. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, which alternately waved at Emmeline and dived into his jacket pockets. Everett wheeled Emmeline across the porch toward the ramp. Mumsfield walked quickly toward the old lady. His face was in full smile, his arms open in pre-hug position. Grace hurried forward and laid a restraining hand on Mumsfield's arm. “Now, dear, you don't want to give Aunt Em any more of those nasty germs, do you?”
    Blanche had to stop herself from sucking her teeth in disgust. What bunk! The boy didn't even have a cold. She gave Emmeline a piercing look. Was she one of those ignorant, superstitious people bred and raised to believe that any kind of difference is revolting? It was certainly common in Emmeline's generation of Americans, both up and down South.
    As though sensing in her sleep that she was the center of attention, Aunt Emmeline stirred in her chair. She raised her head and turned it slowly from side to side. “Hello, everybody! Hello!” she called out in a husky, shaky voice through lips covered with poorly applied bright red lipstick. She nodded and waved. Like she's queen of the Fourth of July parade, Blanchechuckled to herself. No wonder Mumsfield misses her company. She's the liveliest one of the bunch.
    Everett leaned forward and whispered something in the old lady's ear. She gave him an unreadable look and sat back in her chair. Grace took Mumsfield's arm and inched him back toward the car.
    “Come along, Blanche.” Grace climbed into the back seat of the car and closed the door firmly behind her. While Blanche was fastening her seat belt, there was a soft whirring from behind. She turned her head and watched a glass partition rising between the front and back seats.
    Mumsfield handled the car like a loving parent guiding a favorite child. The car moved forward as though cushioned on a cloud. Lord! If that stuck-up Helen Robinson could see me now! Blanche grinned to