Drop Dead Divas Read Online Free PDF

sad.” Farrell cleared his throat. “Is there anyone who can confirm your presence in bed between two and three this morning?”
    “Really, young man, you must recall I am a widow now,” Bitty said in a rather reproachful tone.
    I don’t know how I kept from rolling my eyes. No matter how often I remind her that, because she and Philip Hollandale had been divorced for over a year when he was murdered, she does not qualify as a widow, Bitty has developed the lamentable habit of referring to herself that way.
    Farrell colored to the roots of his reddish hair. It made his freckles stand out on his face like sprinkles of mud. Mama used to call my freckles angel kisses when I whined about them, and maybe Rodney’s mother did the same. Mothers are like that.
    “Oh . . . yes, ma’am, I didn’t mean . . . well, I only meant . . .” Farrell bogged down, and I began to feel sorry for him since we shared the same freckle affliction, though mine are mostly faded now, so I stepped in to help.
    “Bitty, didn’t you tell me you had to call the vet, last night because Chitling threw up on your bed? What time was that?”
    “Oh,” Bitty said, “Yes, I did. Dr. Coltrane took the call. He was a bit grumpy about it, too, which I think is very annoying since he should be used to that sort of thing, and after all, he chose to be a doctor and is therefore obligated to take emergency calls, but there you have it. Yes, I called him about . . . oh, I think it was right around two this morning since I was watching some unreasonable man on one of those political cable shows go on and on about—”
    “Around two this morning, you said?” Farrell interrupted, jotting down notes in his little book.
    Bitty nodded. “Yes. He can confirm that I called him, and if necessary, phone records could prove it, too, I suppose. Do you think all that is really needed, however? I mean, you’ve already arrested Miss Spencer, so I assume you must have proof she killed Race. Didn’t you say she stabbed him?”
    “Stabbed him?” Farrell looked vaguely startled. “No, he was shot.”
    “Oh, I misunderstood,” Bitty lied without a blink. “Maybe because I have always thought of her as the kind of person who would stab a man who cheated on her. I suppose the other woman got away without being hurt. Have you found her yet?”
    “No, we’re still looking for her.”
    “I see. Ask the management at Motel Six—you did say it was Motel Six where this happened?”
    “No, Madewell Courts.”
    “Yes, of course.” Bitty affected a sigh. “So much tragedy lately, and I just cannot keep details straight. Well, Naomi should really have had better sense than to sneak up on him like that, especially with a shotgun. Wait. That’s not right. You said it was a . . .?”
    “It was a thirty-eight snub nose revolver. Two slugs. He might have survived if not for the second shot.”
    “Poor dear. I suppose her aim was off. More tea?”
    Farrell frowned a little, but since Bitty was already pouring more sweet tea from the glass pitcher and adding a lemon wedge to the rim of his glass, he nodded. Ice cubes clinked softly when she gave him his tea and smiled.
    “Well, I can assure you, Officer Farrell, that I had no interest whatsoever in Race Champion. He’s not at all the kind of man with whom I care to associate. For one thing, he’s only a trainer at Gold’s Gym—or is it that new gym?”
    “And he’s twenty years younger than Bitty,” I offered helpfully.
    She gave me a quelling glance for my effort, then continued, “Yes, he may be a rather well-known drag racer locally, but I would have no interest in a man whose main ambition in life seems to be discovering just how much beer he can drink without throwing up. Besides, he always seemed quite content with an entire string of women on his arm. I hardly think him the kind of man to truly settle down to one woman.”
    “And he’s twenty years younger than Bitty,” I reminded.
    Bitty glared at me.