Read Murder Unmentionable for Free Online Page B

the interior of the shop silent and smelling faintly of fresh sawdust. Everything was perfectly normal. She looked down.
    Except for the body at their feet.
    Guy’s body.
    Pierre circled Guy, sniffing furiously. His one black ear twitched back and forth like an antenna looking for a signal.
    “Pierre, no.” Emma made a shooing motion with her hand. Pierre gave a disdainful snort and proceeded to ignore her.
    Arabella pointed at Pierre’s dog bed with an imperiousfinger. “Pierre Louis Auguste! Now!” Pierre lowered his head and slunk toward the bed, with the occasional backward glance at Guy.
    “We need to call an ambulance.”
    Arabella shook her head. “I think it’s too late for that.” She got down on one knee beside the body and put her index and forefinger against Guy’s neck. “Give me a hand,” she said to Emma as she struggled back to her feet. She shook her head again. “There’s no pulse.” She looked at Emma, her mouth quivering.
    Emma felt tears spring into her eyes. Her knees wobbled dangerously. “Are you okay?” Emma whispered with a worried glance at Arabella.
    Arabella nodded her head. “I think so. Sixty-eight years of living do prepare you for a lot, but even so, this is still a shock.” Her hand trembled as she wiped it across her forehead. “How about you? You’re deathly pale.”
    Emma took a shuddering breath and stood a little straighter. If her aunt Arabella could cope with this, then so could she. Her relationship with Guy flashed in front of her eyes—Guy wooing her with compliments and flowers; Guy cooking her his famous coq au vin; Guy whispering in her ear in French.
    Zoe at Vera Wang had introduced them. Emma had needed a portfolio to interview for the job at
Femme
, and Guy had been willing to let her style a couple of his shoots. He’d taken to asking for her as his stylist even after she got the job. One night he’d invited her to join him and one of the models and her agent for a drink. Emma and Guy had sat and talked for hours at the bar long after the other two had left.
    A tear slid down Emma’s cheek, and a knot formed in her throat.
    “We’d better call 9-1-1.” Emma reached into her pocket for her cell phone but then remembered stuffing it behind the sofa cushions. She looked around helplessly.
    Arabella pulled an iPhone from her macramé tote bag. She saw the look on Emma’s face. “What?”
    “Nothing.” Emma shrugged. “I’m just kind of surprised you have one of those.”
    “I’m not
that
old,” Arabella shot back as she punched in the numbers.
    They stood huddled together, waiting. Emma thought she saw the door to O’Connell’s Hardware open and she found herself wishing that Brian would stop by. His presence always made her feel secure. She guessed that’s what big brothers were for.
    Finally, they heard the long, low wail of a siren in the distance.
    “Sounds like the cavalry are on their way.” Arabella said. “Let’s just hope they’ve sent someone with a brain.”
    Emma went to the front door and peered out the window. A silver Crown Vic slewed into a parking space in front of Sweet Nothings, its siren trailing off as it came to a halt.
    A large, beefy policeman shouldered his way into the shop. His forehead shone with perspiration, and he had his hat pushed back to the center of his head. His damp blond hair curled around the brim.
    “You reported a body?” He skidded to a stop just inside the shop. Emma noticed his glance stray to a mannequin in a lacy bra and panties, and she watched as his face flushed a deep red.
    Arabella opened her mouth, her lips working furiously but no sound emerging.
    Emma quickly spoke up. “Yes.”
    The front door banged open again, and another policeman entered. He was broad shouldered, with red hair cut really short and a wide face peppered with freckles.
    “What have we got here?” He pushed his hat farther back on his head and scratched behind his ear.
    “Looks like a body,” the other