April Fool Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

is awful.”
    Emma studied the stack of Annie’s flyers on the coffee bar. “When did you put your flyers out? And where?”
    â€œOver the weekend. Monday. Yesterday. Everywhere.” Annie had covered the island from the ferry-boat dock on the northwest end of the island to the collection of shops on the boardwalk by the marina on the southwest. Those flyers had better visibility than anew John Grisham novel at Christmas. “I wanted to get as much exposure as possible before the signing on Sunday.” Sunday, April 1. April Fools’ Day. Damn.
    Emma pulled out a chair. Her caftan swirled as she sank majestically down.
    Annie was irresistibly reminded of the stately progress of Marigold’s Pleasure, a huge yacht that could just manage the narrow entrance to the Broward’s Rock Marina. The only boat to rival it in size was Leisure Moment. Who owned Leisure Moment ? Wait a minute, that was the big boat that belonged to that rich woman from Atlanta. And she’d tumbled off her boat last fall, just like Emma’s second husband. Annie forced her thoughts away from Leisure Moment and Marigold’s Pleasure. “Where did you find this? When? Are there many—”
    Emma held up a square hand, the blunt fingers ink stained. “Wait. Let’s proceed with order and precision.” This was a favorite dictum of Emma’s sleuth, Marigold Rembrandt, and was often a remonstrance to dense Detective Inspector Hector Houlihan. “You can take notes.”
    Annie was tempted to respond that Emma wasn’t Marigold and Annie sure as hell wasn’t Detective Inspector Hector Houlihan, but one flash of Emma’s icy gaze and Annie pulled a pen from her pocket and turned over one of her own flyers to the blank side.
    Emma’s stubby finger tapped the pink flyer. “I found this in my mailbox this morning. My mail delivery arrives around four in the afternoon. I often don’t retrieve the mail until the next morning. The flyer was on top of the letters.”
    Ingrid scooted her chair closer to the table, peered at the flyer. “Okay.” Ingrid was not only the world’s best bookstore employee, she was a world-class mystery reader as well. “First.” She flipped up her fingers as she spoke. “The imitation flyer must have been placed in Emma’s mailbox after four o’clock on Tuesday afternoon, since Emma found it above, not below, the letters. Now, we have to find out whether this flyer was aimed specifically at Emma. Is this the only flyer? If there are other flyers, how widespread is their distribution?”
    Annie wrote down: Tuesday afternoon.
    Emma’s glance at Ingrid was approving. “Good thinking.” So might Marigold have said to her young niece, Evangeline, a recurring character who served Marigold as Hastings serves Poirot, and a character whom Annie found supremely sappy.
    Annie shook her head, as much to rid her mind of Marigold’s damned intrusive presence as to focus on something important, something she knew, something that might—
    Annie jumped to her feet. “The skywriting! I’ll be right back. Emma, get on the phone to your neighbors. Doesn’t General O’Brien live next door to you? Oh, and on the other side it’s the Morrison house. Check with Mimi Morrison, see if they got it in the mail. I’ll be right back.” And she was running up the central aisle. She was a little surprised to realize that Emma had delved into a capacious pocket and was even now punching numbers into her cell phone. For Emma to follow Annie’s instructions was startling proof that Emma was shaken by the flyer.
    As Annie hurried out the door, she heard the bookstore phone ring. She didn’t pause. Ingrid would take care of it. Annie’s shoes clicked on the boardwalk. She reached the door to Confidential Commissions and pushed inside.
    With a portable phone to her ear, Barb waggled her fingers