Read Paula K. Perrin - Small Town Deadly for Free Online

hall.
    The kitchen had retained its
yellow paint because its one small window faced north and the room was always
dim.  Little Bunny Foo Foo sniffed at the worn linoleum floor.
    Mother and Fran sat at the round
oak table, bone china cups of tea and plates of gingerbread before them. 
Tendrils of steam rose from the teapot’s spout.
    “Where did you go?” I demanded.
    “I had an errand,” Fran said, one
green eye closing in a wink.
    Mother caught the gesture but did
not react.  Tonight she wore her long hair up in the same Gibson-girl style as
Fran, piled softly on her head.  Only Fran’s hair was golden, Mother’s iron
grey; Fran’s face flawless, Mother’s so lined with years of pain and anger that
the dimple on her right cheek had been engulfed by creases.
    Little Bunny Foo Foo sniffed
Mother’s orthopedic shoes.
    Fran’s gaze shifted quickly from
me and my companion to Mother.
    Mother disappointed her. 
“Get yourself a cup and join us,” she said.
    I crossed to the glass-fronted
cupboards, the poodle clicking along beside me, and chose a mug.  I helped
myself to a square of gingerbread from the pan on the counter and crowned it
with whipped cream from a blue bowl.
    When I sat at the table, Little
Bunny Foo Foo sat at my feet.
    Mother glanced at the mug
disapprovingly as I poured my tea.  It was her belief that tea belonged in
proper teacups.  “Where’s Meg?” she asked.
    “I expected her to be here.”
    “That girl!  Since she’s come
home, you never know where she’s going to be, day or night.”
    I nodded.
    Fran said, “How are you
holding up?  Finding Andre that way had to be—”
    “It was the most horrible thing
I’ve ever seen.  How could someone do that to another human being?”
    “Drink your tea, Liz,” Mother
said.  “It’s the new people moving into town.  None of us would do such a
thing.”
    “Did Max pick up any
information?” I asked.
    “He said they all got pretty
excited when the body was moved, there was something under him, but Max
couldn’t see what.  Gene’s being protective of his case.  You probably know
more than any of us, tell, tell.”
    “Oh, Fran, I don’t want to
think about—”
    “Pretty please.”
    I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t
leave me alone until I satisfied her curiosity.  Little Bunny Foo Foo sighed
too and lay across my feet, his small body warm and strangely comforting.
    “If I tell you tonight, will
you keep Max away from me tomorrow?”
    “Oh, Liz, come on, you found
Andre, I have to run an interview with you.”
    “Write it yourself, then,
from what I’m saying now.”
    “Promise not to talk to The
Columbian before we come out on Tuesday?”
    “No problem.”  As if I
wanted to talk to reporters!
    Fran went to the pile of paper on
the counter under the wall phone.  As she sorted through newsletters, ads,
catalogues, and unsolicited credit card offers, she said, “Don’t you think this
stack is getting out of hand?”
    Mother sniffed.  “I don’t dare
touch it.  Liz has ever-expanding ideas on what can be recycled.”
    “Do you want trees for your
great-grandchildren or not?” I asked.
    Fran nudged the pile of papers,
and it wobbled.  “Remember what happened when man conceived the Tower of Babel?”
    I glanced at Mother.  Her fingers
pressing against her lips didn’t quite hide a smile.
    Fran picked a pen out of the
elephant mug and took notes on the back of an envelope as I told them about
finding the body, everything except finding the lipstick and the joint.
    Mother’s gnarled hand shook and
her tea cup clattered against its saucer.  “How terrible.”
    My hands shook, too.
    Fran put a gentle hand on Mother’s
arm.
    Mother sat up straighter. 
“Not that he was one of my favorite people,” she said.  “He had
the morals of a cat.”
    Fran glanced at me.  I didn’t
move.
    Fran tucked the envelope on which
she’d taken notes into her jacket pocket.
    “Gene should turn it over to