Flossed (Alex Harris Mystery Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Well, maybe before you leave I can give you a few lessons on our more refined sport.”
    “And maybe we could give you a few tips on manners,” Sam said.
    I rolled my eyes. I was about to intercede before an international crisis broke out, when we were joined by Paul Cassé.
    “Excuse me. Have you seen my wife?” He glared at Jane. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Jane shook her head in disgust and walked away.
    “I was speaking with her a while ago,” I volunteered. “I think she went into the house about fifteen minutes ago.”
    “Thanks. I’ll go check. Perhaps she’s resting.”
    “Now what was that all about?” Sam asked.
    “I’ve heard the French and English don’t get along well, but these two seem to really hate each other. And I don’t think Jane is fond of Martine, either. I saw them talking earlier and it didn’t seem to be a pleasant exchange.”
    “Not that. What were you doing listening to Wanda and Donna?”
    My face flushed. “Damn. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I’ll tell you later. Come on. I think the Dutch couple is leaving. Let’s go say good-bye. And Sam,” I added, “Try not to say anything disparaging about tulips.”
    A short while later we stood saying our good-byes to the Westlakes and thanked them for a wonderful day.
    “What’s that smell?” Wanda asked, sniffing at the air.
    But before anyone could answer, Paul Cassé ran out of the house, screaming something in French.
    “What on earth.” Wanda left the group and went over to Paul. “Calm down! What’s wrong, for heaven’s sake?”
    But the man kept yelling in French despite the fact his English was perfect. Another Belgian couple walked over to Paul and looked at Wanda. “He says to call dah police! His wife has been murdered!”

 
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
    “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I said getting the evil eye from Jobeth.
    At the word murdered , my husband, John Van der Burg, sprang into action. I could almost see a small smile on his face. Geessh. What did I get myself into marrying a cop? First, he ran around the house into the front where the Parmelees were just pulling out. He told them to come back inside, sure the local police would want to talk with everyone present at the cookout. Second, he went into the house with me following to the small powder room where Paul had found his wife. Martine lay on the hard tile flooring with one leg up resting over the edge of the toilet, her foot dangling in the water. Both her hands were up around her neck as if clutching at something. Her eyes were open and she stared directly up at the ceiling. She had a red welt across her face and deep red marks across her throat, indicating she had been strangled, but other than the cord on the blinds covering the small window above the toilet, nothing else in the small room looked as if it could have been used to strangle the young woman.
    “John, the police have been called. They should be here shortly.” I tried not to look at Martine. “It’s true, isn’t it? She’s been murdered?”
    John turned and closed the door behind him. “Yes, it’s true. She’s been strangled or maybe her throat’s been cut. I can’t tell and I don’t want to move her. It’s not a pretty sight.”
    My eyes misted. “I spoke with her just a while ago.”
    “Come on. Let’s go wait for the police.” John put a protective arm around my shoulders. We walked out to the back where the remaining members of the cookout sat.
    “What the hell is going on?” Bill asked, his loud voicing taking on new dimensions.
    “Martine has been murdered. I think we should all wait here until the police arrive.”
    “But we were just leaving,” Donna Parmelee protested.
    “I’m sorry, you have to wait for the police.”
    “Excuse me, mate. But what gives you the right to tell us when we can or cannot leave?” Malcolm Tillingsworth asked.
    “He’s a police detective. He knows about these things,” Wanda said. “Why