Murder in the Boonies: A Sleuth Sisters Mystery (The Sleuth Sisters Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

think they were doing pretty good, better together than either one ever done by themselves.”
    Trying to ignore the man’s grammatical messes, I focused on his purpose. “We don’t share information, but I can say we don’t know where they are.”
    Farrell rubbed one side of his face. “I just don’t understand it.” He glared at the items on my desk as if Ben might be hiding behind one of them. “I just hope none of them got sick or something. Not a week ago I was out to the house, and he never said a thing about moving away.”
    There was something false in Farrell’s voice. It occurred to me that McAdams probably owed Farrell money. He didn’t seem angry about it, however, just disbelieving.
    I opened my mouth to say that if we located the family, we'd ask McAdams to contact him. Farrell picked up a cup of pencils sitting on my desk and read aloud Clare Boothe Luce’s words: If I fail, no one will say, “She doesn’t have what it takes.” They will say, “Women don't have what it takes.”
    He frowned. “Did this Clare have what it takes?”
    “She was a writer, an ambassador, successful at a lot of things.”
    “And what did her husband do for a living?”
    His tone was like a poke in my side with a stick. “Why do you ask?”
    Farrell shrugged lightly. “I notice that a lot of successful women have wealthy husbands that support them so they can write books and go to ambassador balls and like that.”
    My lips were stiff as I replied, “I don’t.”
    He seemed confused. “You mean you don’t have a successful husband?”
    “I don’t have any husband, Mr. Farrell. Never have.”
    His jaw jutted. “Now, that’s sad.”
    “I don’t find it so.”
    He looked as if he pitied me. “Then you don’t understand God’s plan. For a woman, the purpose of life is marriage and children.”
    I leaned back in my chair, possibly so my fist couldn’t reach his chin. “And what’s the purpose of life for a man?”
    He sighed at the weight of the question. “A man has lots of things he’s meant to do, but an important one is taking care of his woman.” He set the cup back on my desk. “I’m sorry you missed that in your life.”
    I stood abruptly. “I’m afraid we can’t help you, Mr. Farrell.”
    He rose, brushing his black polyester trouser legs lightly. “Ben will probably contact me once they get settled. Thanks for your time, Miss Evans.”
    As he left, I didn’t know whether to laugh or throw something at the back of his head. His parting shot, the use of Miss , was a pointed reminder that I exist in a state he believed to be unnatural for women. I guess I should have been grateful he didn’t address me as “Spinster Evans.”

CHAPTER NINE
    Faye
    I spent an hour with Dale’s mom, listening and sympathizing until she talked herself into admitting she needed help to get out of bed. Though she’d failed in the last few months, Harriet’s sense of independence and modesty remained strong. There were days when she got feisty and tried to do for herself, as she had for many years. This time she’d fallen trying to get to the bathroom. She wasn’t hurt, but she insisted, “If they’ll just give me a cane, “I can pee without some nurse watching!”
    The staff at the Meadows had called me to see if I could make Harriet see reason. Though she never liked me much, my mother-in-law had come to see me as an ally in her battle for independence. Everyone in the nursing home wanted her to do things they hoped would keep her alive. While I’m not a big cheerleader for death, I agree with Harriet that dying isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a person after ninety.
    When I returned to the office, Barb was slumped toward the computer in a very un-ergonomic position. After she caught me up on Farrell’s visit she asked, “Was this Ben McAdams as pompous as his buddy Farrell?”
    “I never met him, but Retta can tell us.” I called her, putting the phone on speaker.
    “I really don’t