Decorated to Death Read Online Free PDF

a lot more help than anyone, including Peter, suspected.”
    “And where and when did this all happen?” demanded the imposing Patti, ignoring the shushing sounds emitting from tiny Martha Stevens, the sharp-witted, Cuban-born wife of Rollie Stevens, Seville’s antiquated police chief.
    “Oh my, let me think a minute,” begged Lucy, obviously pleased to be the center of attention. “She died three years ago. I believe it was on Valentine’s Day. The poor girl was so emaciated that the family decided not to have the usual visitation and funeral. Schubert’s in Indianapolis handled the cremation. Of course, Peter was just devastated.”
    “What an extraordinary way to die,” exclaimed Mary. The concept of deliberately depriving oneself of food was almost beyond her comprehension. “I suppose that Peter, being a doctor as well as her fiancé, probably blamed himself for not being able to help the girl.”
    “Certainly not,” replied Lucy sounding as offended as she looked. “If you want to know the truth, Peter blamed the girl’s obsession with her weight on that silly book Be Thin and Win , by that awful woman, Dona Deville. Peter was so angry that he…” The rest of Lucy’s reply was drowned out by the clanging of the dinner bell.
    “Come and get it,” yelled Matt between clangs. With a mountain of mouthwatering ribs, crocks of homemade baked beans, Papa Milano’s antipasto trays, and a dessert table to die for, the subject of death by eating disorder was all but forgotten, at least for the time being.
    JR, Mary, and Patti rushed off to help Matt with the dispensing of food while I limped across the lawn and into the house in search of a couple of Band-Aids for my blistered heels. As expected, I found what I needed in the downstairs green-and-white subway-tiled bathroom.
    In most homes the bathroom is nothing special, but that’s not the case with JR’s bathroom. Everything about the room reflects the unpretentious look promoted by the Arts and Crafts movement, which began in England during the latter part of the nineteenth century. It’s a style perfectly suited for JR’s relaxed personality.
    It took a while, but eventually Matt and JR had restored the room to its original, no-nonsense look. Like they say, everything old is new again, which would include the claw-foot bathtub and freestanding washbasin. The Craftsman-style makeover brought the bathroom into the twenty-first century while retaining the flavor of its Arts and Crafts origins.
    On a glass shelf above the commode sits JR’s small collection of Overbeck painted porcelain. Dubbed by Mary Overbeck, one of six sisters who owned and operated Overbeck Pottery from 1911 to 1955 in Cambridge City, Indiana, as “humor of the kiln,” the little figurines add a touch of whimsy to the room’s otherwise uncluttered design and decor.
    Reaching inside the square wall-mounted, bevel-mirrored medicine cabinet, I inadvertently knocked over a plastic container from Finklestein’s Pharmacy. Even without the aid of my misplaced cheaters, I recognized JR’s name on the prenatal vitamin prescription. The accidental discovery of the prescription renewed my determination to stay on the sunny side of the street. In the meantime, JR’s secret was safe with me.
    By Saturday morning, my resolve to remain positive had considerably waned. From past experience, I knew the importance of establishing a good rapport with a prospective client. It was something that my phone conversation with Dona Deville hadn’t accomplished. Knowing the lady was less than thrilled with my insistence that she accompany me on the walk-through, I had a sinking feeling that I wasn’t on Dona’s list of favorite people.
    With the added fear that the cottage might be on the brink of structural disaster, the sunny side of the street was growing darker by the minute. Something had to be done and done fast to quiet my nerves and steady my shaky positive attitude.
    Charlie had already left