Lowcountry Bombshell (A Liz Talbot Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

was on it. And she knew that I took that list as more of a suggestion—sort of an inventory of what was available in the kitchen.
    “You know that Southwestern chicken salad you had last week on special?”
    “Uh-huh.” She scribbled on her pad.
    “Could you make me one of those, only add some avocado, hold the corn, and bring me some salsa on the side instead of the dressing?”
    “Sure thing.”
    “And no corn chips.”
    “Got it.” She spun off before I could modify her recipe further.
    Blake shook his head and picked up his cheeseburger.
    “Have you met the woman who just moved into that new house in the bay?” I pulled out my hand sanitizer.
    “The McQueen woman? Drives that fifty-nine Eldorado Biarritz?”
    “Yeah.”
    “She came in Monday to report a B and E.”
    “Say what?”
    “Yeah—wanted to talk to me. Wouldn’t talk to Clay or Sam. Even Nell.” He shrugged. “It was a slow day. She’s new in town. Thought it’d be good for public relations.”
    “What was taken?” I asked.
    “That’s the screwy part,” Blake said. “Nothing was taken, but she says someone broke in and left a bottle of sleeping pills on her bedside table.”
    “Sleeping pills?” Hells bells. There was something she left out?
    “Yeah, they were capsules, labeled Nembutal. Warren says you can’t even get that stuff in capsules legally anymore, in this country. The liquid is used in hospitals, and hell, they use the stuff for lethal injections.”
    Warren Harper was our town physician, and, when necessary, the coroner.
    “Were they in a prescription bottle?”
    Blake nodded and raised his eyebrows as he finished chewing a bite of cheeseburger. “Yeah, but get this. The doctor on the label doesn’t exist. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to dummy-up a prescription label.”
    “Have you had the drug tested?”
    “Oh, yeah. My CSI lab got right on it.”
    “Sarcasm does not become you.”
    “Listen. That woman has a screw loose. Five will get you ten there’s nothing in those capsules but powdered sugar.”
    “Was there evidence of a break in?”
    “None. My opinion? She typed that thing up herself.”
    “But why would she do that?”
    “Who knows? Maybe she just wanted an excuse to talk to somebody—get some attention.”
    Coming from Blake, this position didn’t surprise me. Women had done all manner of kooky things to get his attention.
    “I don’t think so,” I said. “She hired me this morning. Paid my retainer. She thinks someone is going to try to kill her.”
    Blake set down his tea glass. “Five thousand dollars?”
    “Yep.”
    “That’s a lot of money to pay for a joke.”
    “Did anything strike you about the way she looks?”
    “I’m used to all that crap.”
    I wrinkled my face at him.
    “Blue stripe in her hair, fourteen piercings, tattoos. I hardly even notice that mess anymore.”
    I smiled and nodded. “Me either.”
    What did this woman really look like? Had she worn a Marilyn costume when she came to see me? Or was she tired of going around looking like a pinup poster, so she’d gone to see Blake incognito?
    Likely, she’d worn the same getup to meet with Michael, which was why he hadn’t mentioned he was building a house for a dead movie star.
    Moon Unit delivered my lunch. “Here you go.” She drug out ‘go’ into five syllables. “Can I get you anything else?”
    “Not right now, thank you, Moon,” I said. “Hey, have you met Calista McQueen?”
    “Mousey little thing that drives that big red convertible?”
    Blake and I looked at each other.
    “Sure,” Moon said. “She comes in a couple-three times a week. I declare, that girl needs to get in to see Phoebe. I bet you with some highlights and different makeup she’d be a looker.”
    “I bet you’re right,” I said. “Have you talked to her much?”
    Moon Unit raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Well, sure. I talk to all my customers.”
    Blake rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder. Moon Unit