Read Death Dangles a Participle (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series) for Free Online

swaggered out the door. I was happy to see most of my students had relieved expressions on their faces as they filed out.
    Serendipity, however, was in a foul mood. She slammed her paper on my desk, hitched her designer purse over her shoulder and stalked out in as dignified a manner as her low-slung designer jeans would permit.
    Every day after school, it was my habit to walk to Chez Prentice. As a partner in the business enterprise, it was my duty to check on things. Besides, I needed the exercise.
    On this particular afternoon, as I stepped carefully over the icy patches, I thought about the students’ reaction to my new name and married status. It had obviously never occurred to them that a teacher would have a personal life, especially someone as ancient as I. Many times recently, I’d found myself blushing at the speculative stares.
    “Well, hello there, married lady,” a male voice said behind me, and Blakely Knight fell into step at my right. “How are the happy honeymooners?” he asked in that insinuating tone I found so annoying.
    None of your business , I wanted to say, but I had been raised to be polite. “We’re doing well, thank you, quite well.”
    “If you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look well.” Blakely commented. “Let me help you carry that.” He reached for my black leather book satchel.
    I stopped walking and backed away. “No, thanks.”
    Blakely shrugged. “Okay, whatever.”
    We resumed walking.
    “Actually, Amelia, I caught up with you because I wanted to ask a question.”
    “Yes?” I said as politely as I could.
    I was feeling a trifle guilty over my curt rejection of what was, after all, a relatively kind offer. What was it about Blakely that made my skin crawl so?
    “Do you know if Lily Burns is seeing anyone?”
    “Lily Burns!” I said, fairly shouting the name in my surprise. Of all the possible questions I might expect from Blakely Knight, this hadn’t been one of them.
    “What’s the matter?” Blakely seemed surprised at my reaction. “She is your friend, isn’t she?”
    “Certainly,” I said, more calmly. “You want to know if she’s, um, available?”
    This would be quite a couple: diminutive Lily and tall, muscular Blakely. My father always called odd pairs such as this Mutt and Jeff, whoever they were.
    “Well, I know she was dating that old windbag Alexander for a while there, but I heard that was kaput , so I thought, well, I just wanted to know if I’d be wasting my time if . . . ” He trailed off, waving his hand.
    “I’m not exactly on Lily’s list of favorite people right now. I think your best bet would be to call and ask her yourself. Better yet, you’re heading in the direction of her house. Why not just drop by for a visit?” Oh, to be a fly on that wall!
    He appeared to consider the suggestion. “Hmm. I don’t know. Dropping by so hale fellow well met and all . . . it’s not quite my style.”
    He was describing the professor. His leering grin was back, and the sympathy I had felt for him dissolved.
    “No, I guess it isn’t,” I agreed crisply.
    “But you never know, do you? I might just do it.”
    We walked for another half block and were standing at an intersection waiting for the light to change when pink-cheeked, white-haired Mrs. Daye seemed to step out from behind a tree.
    “Hi, folks,” she said pleasantly in a deep alto voice.
    She had on a long white hooded parka and dark, stretch ski pants. Even though the lapel bore the logo of an expensive couturier, with her comfortably rounded figure, wide shoe-button eyes and pale hair, she looked exactly like a snowman.
    “Mrs. Dickensen, isn’t it?” she asked me.
    “That’s right. Mrs. Daye, this is Blakely Kn—“ I turned to introduce him, but stopped mid-word when I caught sight of the man’s expression.
    Blakely’s brown eyes had widened significantly, but only for a split second. Immediately, he rearranged his features and reached out a hand for her to