Read No Way to Kill a Lady for Free Online

sharpened something inside me, though. It seemed there was still something I could do—­if not for Lexie, then for Madeleine. I looked for her leather-­bound book. Today the black ledger was not on top of the desk. Nor was it inside the top drawer, which I slid open for a peek.
    Quietly, I looked around for other possible hiding places. Two filing cabinets disguised as Chinese chests stood against one wall. I tried the handles. Locked. That’s when I noticed yet another treasure was missing. On top of the chests, Madeleine had once chosen to keep a set of Russian nesting dolls. The largest had been a woman in a kerchief that popped open to reveal another figure and another—­each succeeding female a younger version of the last. The final, smallest doll—­a smiling infant swaddled in yellow—­had always fascinated me. Madeleine had allowed me to play with those dolls. But today they were gone.
    I was tempted to try jimmying open the file cabinets in search of the black book, but I heard someone in the hallway behind me. Instinctively, I slipped out the door and down the corridor.
    I poked my head into the kitchen and found it in deplorable condition—­the floor tiles were heaved up from water damage, and someone had left the remains of a dinner tray on the white marble counter. The teacup was stained yellow at the bottom, and mouse droppings were unmistakable on the plate.
    I stepped into the butler’s pantry, where Aunt Madeleine’s fine china and crystal were arranged behind dusty glass doors. The Meissen plates—­decorated with swooping birds, flirtatious shepherdesses and branches laden with springtime blossoms—­looked dusty, but otherwise perfect. The only missing piece was the sugar bowl.
    It was Sutherland who sauntered into the kitchen behind me and poked his head into the pantry. He seemed to notice none of the fine objects stored in the small room, but instead checked his own reflection in the glass cabinet doors. I wondered if he was hanging on to his heartbreaker looks with his fingertips.
    He ran a finger along his hairline to adjust a fair lock and bestowed a smile on me. “How have you been, Nora? I hear you inherited Blackbird Farm.”
    I leaned against the pantry countertop. “Yes, Mama and Daddy entrusted the property to me when they ran off to—­well, when they decided to go abroad.”
    â€œBut they came back, right?”
    â€œOnly for a couple of months. They’re happier in a warmer climate.” I could have added that the climate in Philadelphia had gotten plenty hot for my mother and father before they absconded again.
    Finally desperate to be rid of them, I had deliberately left my credit card on the kitchen table in the hope my parents would pilfer one last thing and flee. My sanity was worth a few more dings on my credit score. I didn’t have the heart to cancel the card for a couple of days. Once they safely reached Rio, though, I figured they were on their own and I terminated my MasterCard. Now I was relieved to have them out of my hair—­and only felt slightly guilty about using my credit card as a lure.
    Sutherland smiled down at me. “So you’re living out in farm country by yourself? That doesn’t sound like you.”
    â€œEmma’s with me at the moment.”
    â€œJust the two of you rattling around in that big old house?”
    â€œIt’s only the windows that rattle,” I said with a smile.
    â€œI heard a family rumor you’d gotten married again,” Sutherland said. “To an ex-­con, for heaven’s sake. The aunts are in a tizzy.”
    A tizzy was better than a tornado, which is how I had felt when Michael first blew into my life. He’d swept me off my feet and into a love affair that was challenging and passionate and life-­affirming, and certainly never dull.
    But my aunts weren’t the only ones who disapproved of our