Snipped in the Bud Read Online Free PDF

noisily, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten lunch. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was twelve forty. I was sure Lottie and Grace, my assistants, were wondering where I was, so I decided to call.
    “I’m at the law school,” I said when Lottie answered.
    “You’re still there? Did you have trouble delivering the rose?”
    “In a way.”
    “Don’t tell me you tangled with that pain in the ass Puffer.”
    “Well, yes, but that’s not the problem. Professor Reed is dead—and I found the body.”
    “Oh, Lordy. Stay calm. I’ll be right there.” Lottie’s answer was preprogrammed. As the mother of seventeen-year-old quadruplet sons, she was used to handling emergencies. The problem was that she tended to treat me as if I were seventeen, too.
    “That’s not necessary,” I assured her, “but thanks anyway. The police have everything under control. I might be here a while, though. Reilly hasn’t finished interviewing me yet.”
    “Okay, sweetie. You take care of yourself and I’ll take care of Bloomers.” Since she was the previous owner of the shop, and had taught me everything I knew about the business, that was no problem for her. “What about Grace?” Lottie whispered into the phone. “Do I have to tell her or can it wait until you get here?”
    “No sense trying to keep it from her. She’ll find out soon enough.”
    Lottie sighed heavily. “All right, but you know darn well she’ll be spouting Shakespeare all afternoon, gearing up for your return.”
    She had a point. Sixty-year-old Grace Bingham was a walking archive, remembering every quote she’d ever heard. Since she operated under the theory that I roamed the earth looking for trouble, she seemed to feel that if she tossed enough of those pithy sayings my way I would miraculously reform. She didn’t understand that it was out of my hands. My hair was a cosmic magnet.
    “Sing a Willie Nelson song,” I said. “That’ll drown her out.”
    Lottie and Grace were about as opposite as two people could be. Lottie Dombowski was a hefty, forty-five-year-old Kentuckian with a gift for floral design, and a love of country-and-western music and anything deep fried. Lottie took life as it came and rarely grew flustered.
    Grace, on the other hand, was a slender, even-tempered Brit who enjoyed classical music and expertly brewed tea. Her job was to run the coffee-and-tea-parlor side of Bloomers. She was efficiency personified, and she hated disorder.
    What both women shared was loads of common sense and a high tolerance for my shortcomings. In fact, that was part of their job descriptions.
    I hung up with Lottie just as the elevator dinged, followed shortly by Professor Puffer’s loud voice. He was ranting at someone, so I dashed over to his office doorway for a look. Inside, Reilly was making a detailed diagram of the room, another cop was taking measurements, and the medics were setting up the gurney. At the back I could see Snapdragon trying to get past a cop barring the door. He had obviously just stepped off the elevator, which meant he’d been on the first floor, not outside. I knew from experience that the police would have blocked access to the building as soon as they arrived.
    “Stand aside, sir,” Puffer commanded.
    “I’m not going to tell you again,” the cop said. “You can’t go in. It’s a crime scene.”
    “I’m as shocked by this man’s death as the next person,” Puffer retorted, “but this is my office and I need my notes. I have a lecture to give in fifteen minutes.”
    At that, Reilly swung around. “You’re all heart, aren’t you, Professor? Tell you what. You want to see an office? How about we show you one with bars on the windows?”
    Puffer’s face turned an angry red. “Don’t you dare threaten me.”
    Reilly sauntered up to him and, being taller, glared down his nose at him. “You make one more sound and I’ll clap cuffs on you and haul you away. How’s that for a threat?”
    The two men glared at