Murder Gets a Life Read Online Free PDF

my niece, Debbie Nachman Lamont, one of my favorite people in the world. She hadn’t felt like going to work, she said. Richardena, the nanny, had taken Fay and May to Mothers’ Day Out at the church, and she, Debbie, was lying on the bathroom floor on a float from the pool. She wasn’t sure, but she might have had a couple of near-death experiences.
    “But you weren’t sick like this with the twins,” I said.
    “I know. It’s Henry’s fault.”
    No way I was going to touch that. Fortunately, she asked about Sunshine, and I got to relate the events of the night before. The porn movie got what I hoped was a chuckle out of Debbie.
    “Sunshine’s mother?”
    “So help me. Her name’s Kerrigan. I like the name, don’t you?”
    “Just talk, Aunt Pat.”
    So I told her about Gabriel, the channeler. This time I know I got a chuckle.
    “You’re kidding!”
    “So help me. Your mama asked Meemaw to check with him on Southern Bell stock.”
    “Was she serious?”
    “God knows. Probably figured it wouldn’t hurt.Sunshine said Gabriel didn’t dabble in the stock market.”
    “Oh, Lord, Aunt Pat. I wish I hadn’t missed it.”
    “There’ll be plenty more family fun for you to get in on. Your mama’s informed me that she and I are having lunch at the Starlight Cafe in Blount Springs today. Needless to say, it’s a hop, skip, and a jump to the Turketts’. Want to lay bets on where we go snooping after lunch?”
    “Aunt Pat, I have to hang up.”
    The phone went dead. Bless her heart. I got a second cup of coffee and settled down at the kitchen table to read the morning paper while I rubbed Woofer with my bare toes. I was relaxed; I was peaceful; I felt kindly toward the whole world. How was I to know this feeling was to be short-lived? Easy. I’ve been Mary Alice Tate Sullivan Nachman Crane’s sister for over sixty years.
     
    Lunch was nice. Sister was right; the Starlight Cafe was charming, an old home that had been converted into a tearoom, all wicker and gingham ruffles. We were seated on a porch that had probably once served a family as a sleeping porch. Now glass-enclosed, it afforded a view of a swift creek coursing around boulders and, beyond that, deep woods.
    I sank down in a chair and sighed with pleasure. The waitress brought us glasses of sweetened iced tea along with the menus.
    “How do you find these places to eat?” I asked Mary Alice.
    “If you and Fred would branch out a little beyond Morrison’s Cafeteria, you’d find them, too.”
    I was too relaxed for any adrenaline to surge.“Morrison’s has the best egg custard pie in the world.”
    “That’s true,” Sister admitted. “Just the right amount of cinnamon.”
    I sipped my tea and looked at the menu. I was expecting the usual tearoom fare, chicken salad, soup of the day. Instead, the menu claimed the Starlight Cafe served Funky Monkey, Et Tu, Brute, and Pinkies, along with several other unrecognizable dishes.
    “What the hell is this?” Sister asked, squinting at the selections listed on a plastic laminated star.
    I shrugged; Sister motioned for the waitress.
    Blenda (somewhere there had to be a sister named Glenda) came over grinning. “Isn’t that menu just the cutest thing?”
    “I don’t understand it,” Sister said.
    Blenda giggled. “You’re supposed to guess. I’ll give you a hint, though. This is what you’d get if you ordered Pinkies.” She curved her little finger around.
    “Boiled shrimp,” I said.
    “Right. You’ve caught right on.”
    “Et Tu, Brute is Caesar salad.” I was getting into this.
    “Don’t even guess at Funky Monkey,” Sister said.
    “Oh, it’s just chicken salad,” Blenda said. “We sort of cut out a bell-pepper monkey and put it on top of it.”
    “Can I get a turkey sandwich on white and a cup of the soup of the day, whatever it is?” Sister asked.
    “It’s angel wings today.”
    “I’ll have an Et Tu, Brute,” I said quickly.
    Blenda grinned. “Back in a