Read Murder on the First Day of Christmas (Chloe Carstairs Mysteries) for Free Online Page B

“Happy?” he demanded of Robin.
         “Ecstatic.”
         Bunny Beaumont slinked up to our group and squeezed Dad’s arm against her chest. “Y’all aren’t going home yet, are you? It’s early,” she pouted. “I’ve still got some mileage left on this dress.”
         Unable to formulate an appropriate response, my father barely managed to extract his arm from Bunny’s grasp. A lesser man would have crumbled.
        “We’re just getting started, right, Gavin?” Bunny didn’t even look at her chubby little husband.
         “You’re the boss, Buns.”
         The only thing Mom likes less than being touched without permission is seeing her husband pawed by an over-sexed predator like Bunny “Buns” Beaumont, but before Mom could school Bunny on her bad manners, Saul grabbed his stomach.
         “Let’s go.” Dad pressed forward, having a low tolerance for drama, but it quickly became clear that Saul wasn’t joking.
         “I don’t feel so good.” Our host doubled over, clutching his stomach. He stumbled left, then right, and finally grabbed the potted Bradford pear tree to get his balance.
         “I told you not to drink so much when you’re taking your meds.” Robin sounded disgusted, but looked worried.
         We all did.
         “Oscar...” Saul gasped as another spasm of pain seemed to rip through him, then he fell to the floor, taking the tree and its partridge with him.
         Before the ambulance could arrive, before the last scream split the cool night air, before Robin’s first tear even fell, Saul Taylor’s agonized writhing stopped.
         He was dead.

    CHAPTER 5
     
         For the second time that week, the police were called to Saul’s house.
         I guess they had to be, but as to whether they would just take a few notes or launch a full-scale investigation when they arrived, that’s where the situation got tricky.
         Oscar Browley’s thoughts on the matter were immediately clear.  “We need to lock down the crime scene,” he told Assistant District Attorney Jack Lassiter.
         “Crime scene?” Jack and Robin exclaimed in unison.
         Oscar wouldn’t meet Robin’s eyes. “Till we determine cause of death, we must do this by the book.”
         “He had a bad heart,” Robin protested. “He was on medication. Ask Dr…” She trailed off.
         Saul’s cardiologist would be of no help. “’s the didgy-tal-s,” he had slurred over the body a few minutes earlier. “Getcha evertime.” His twenty-three-year-old girlfriend had giggled and led him into the dining room, where his mortified twenty-five-year-old daughter waited with coffee.
         “We’ll need everyone to stay put,” Oscar announced. “Please have a seat in the living room. The police will get your names in case we need to contact you further.”
         The shocked crowd, which had thinned considerably, moved toward the fireplace.
         “You don’t understand,” Robin cried.
         “Ms. Woodall, please. We’re just trying to make sure.” Oscar addressed his comments to a point just over Robin’s shoulder, a fact that wasn’t lost on her.
         “Ms. Woodall? Oscar, you know Saul adored me.” She panicked. “You can’t think I’d hurt him.”
         Oscar realized we were dragging our feet and gave us a dark look. We got moving.
         Around us, the other partygoers were murmuring.
         “Alex,” Browley called to my father. “Let’s you, Jack and I check the entrances and exits around this place.”
         I could see that Lassiter clearly resented the way Oscar had taken charge.
         Robin stumbled over to us, her eyes wide, her voice childlike. “Amanda, you’ve got to help me.”
         My response would have been “duh,” but Mom chose a more soothing, “Everything’s going to be fine, dear,” accompanied by a reassuring hand squeeze.
         Dad rejoined