An Old-Fashioned Murder Read Online Free PDF

badger.”
    â€œWell, I’m not just going to sit by and let her ruin the whole weekend for you,” Drew said.
    â€œShe’s not going to ruin anything.” Daisy gave his fingers an affectionate squeeze.
    He responded with a rakish grin. “Good, because I have no intention of being separated from you for the next two days.”
    â€œOnly the days?” Daisy returned, with her own grin. “Not the nights?”
    Her flirtations were cut short by Aunt Emily.
    â€œNow, about this surprise?” Aunt Emily chirped, looking back and forth between Daisy and Henry Brent.
    Daisy could only shrug. “I know nothing about it, other than there is one.”
    Henry Brent gurgled mischievously. He might as well have been a seven-year-old hiding a stash of gum balls.
    â€œIt must be a good surprise,” Aunt Emily prodded him eagerly.
    He gurgled some more.
    May started to speak, but the squeaky front door interrupted her.
    â€œThe rain has arrived,” a booming voice announced.
    â€œRain!” Henry Brent hiccupped in distress.
    â€œGive it another couple of minutes,” the voice continued, “and it should be a real downpour.”
    â€œOh, then I must hurry!” And without hesitation, Henry Brent set off in a full sprint for the entrance hall.
    â€œMr. Brent,” Daisy called after him, remembering how cold the wind had been. “You’re not going outside, are you? Because I don’t think—”
    She began to rise from her chair to follow him, but Drew stopped her.
    â€œI’ll go,” he volunteered. “He may need help anyway, with whatever his surprise is.”
    Daisy nodded gratefully, and Drew trotted after him. There was a loud bustle in the entrance hall as folks came in and folks went out. The weather prognosticator appeared a moment later.
    â€œThose are some mighty black clouds rolling in.” His voice boomed just as loudly in the parlor as it had from the front door. “I predict one heck of a deluge.”
    â€œThen we’re glad to have you back before it hits,” Aunt Emily answered with all the courtesy of the good innkeeper. “Is your wife with you, Mr. Lunt?”
    â€œKenneth. I keep telling you to call me Kenneth,” he corrected her in an affable but firm tone. “And yes, Sarah’s right behind me.”
    Sarah Lunt stepped out of her husband’s sizable shadow and murmured a faint greeting. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall with an equally petite frame. She reminded Daisy of a skittish field mouse. Her thin hair was a mousy brown, her darting eyes were the same drab shade, and her pointed little chin quivered whenever anyone spoke to her—or even looked at her—a smidge too hard. She couldn’t have been older than thirty-five, yet she moved haltingly, as if weighed down by an oppressive burden.
    What that burden might have been, Daisy didn’t know. Kenneth Lunt was a boisterous and assertive sort of person who expressed his thoughts freely, but he didn’t give any indication of being mean or aggressive toward his wife. If she was a field mouse, then he was a noisy blue jay. In his upper thirties, he had black hair that was beginning to gray at the sideburns and a bulky upper body that didn’t match his angular legs.
    â€œThe Lunts have been staying at the inn while house-hunting in the area,” Aunt Emily explained to the rest of the group. “You sure did get an early start today,” she said to the couple in a polite way of making conversation. “We missed you at breakfast.”
    â€œIt wasn’t as early of a start as hers,” Kenneth replied, motioning toward Daisy. “Are you always out the door at such an ungodly hour?”
    Daisy responded with a small smile. “It’s the curse of working in bakeries and diners, unfortunately—up before the rooster. But I am sorry if I woke you. I do try hard to be quiet, and I’m