Read Pearls and Poison (A Consignment Shop Mystery) for Free Online Page A

be, and Gloria Summerside winds up suspect number one.”
    “Mamma and Scumbucket argued, took it out onto the sidewalk, someone dumped in the digitalis, poured the drink, took the bottle, and left. How would they know Scumbucket would leave with Mamma?”
    “It was a good possibility no matter how the meeting went that Seymour would leave his office sooner or later. He had stuff to do. Anyone with a button and a smile could mosey in just like we did.”
    “Boone said Seymour had enemies. My guess is one of them did him in.”
    “Oh, honey, your mamma has enemies, too, and their mean-looking ornery pictures once graced the walls of our local post office. They have families who aren’t fond of your mamma one little bit. Framing her for murder would be sweet revenge indeed for the whole bunch. Either way, when the police find that bourbon bottle hidden somewhere, but not too well hidden, Gloria’s goose is cooked. Her fingerprints will be all over it. The route from her campaign headquarters to Seymour’s takes her right past her own house with foxglove foliage aplenty. Doesn’t take much to mash up a few deadly leaves and be on her merry way. She has motive, means, and opportunity.”
    “But so far it’s all circumstantial. There’s no smoking gun or in this case bourbon bottle.” I glanced at the clock trying to think of a good escape plan. I had an idea and didn’t want KiKi in on it. “I’ve got to get the Fox ready, and you better get that green stuff off your face before it sticks permanent like. Don’t you have some dance lessons this morning? I bet you have classes booked up all day with the Christmas cotillion right around the corner.”
    “Uh-oh. You’re babbling and you’re flipping your hair. You always flip your hair when you’re into something you shouldn’t be. Signing that prenup with Hollis nearly made you bald.”
    I grabbed a chunk of cake and stuffed it in my mouth to prevent more babbling and hurried out the door. The problem with family is they know all your quirks and you can’t get away with squat. Whoever killed Scumbucket ditched the bottle somewhere it could be found like in Dumpsters, trashcans, black plastic bags with smelly God knows what inside.
    This was not the first dead-body event KiKi and I had encountered. Lately the two of us had an abundance of dead-body juju. I tried my darndest to keep dear auntie out of harm’s way and spare her angst. Gross black bags and Dumpsters fell in the angst category. That KiKi got trapped on a rooftop and leaped from a fire escape meant I failed miserably in the harm’s way category.
    The cops would be looking for the liquor bottle, and they’d be doing it early before trash pickup. I didn’t have much time to find that bottle! I gave BW a quick potty break, did the scoop thing, dropped the baggie in the trash, and stopped dead in my tracks. The heavens parted, a bright light shown down, and a choir of celestial angels sang the “Hallelujah Chorus.” There, right in my very own garbage can, was a half-empty bottle of honey bourbon. I’m not one of those who believe God controls every little detail of our lives, but once in a while, the Big Guy above reaches down and saves the day.
    I snagged a piece of paper towel from the garbage and plucked out the bottle. All I had to do was wipe it clean of fingerprints and throw it in the river for good measure and—
    “Well, well what do we have there?” came Detective Ross’s voice behind me.
    My heart stopped dead. “Honey bourbon,” I said. “I love the stuff.” I faced Ross and two cops. “Need to get to an AA meeting.” I was in babbling mode again and had no cake to save me.
    “I’ll take that bottle.”
    “Not without a search warrant you won’t.” KiKi had her cardio hubby, and I had my legal-eagle Mamma.
    Ross reached in her purse that probably weighed as much as she did, pulled out a paper with the Chatham County seal on top,
Warrant
in the middle, and my address below