The Gallery of the Dead (Tropical Breeze Cozy Mystery Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

hang in there. He lives down A1A among the beach rentals. I believe he even owns a few. You know, the cinderblock ones. Last time I drove by there, he had it painted light turquoise, with pink shutters and a sea-green front door. It’s a block north of the new ice cream drive-in, just south of town. What’s it’s name?” She snapped her dry fingers a few times. “Sprinkles. That’s it. Sorry I don’t have the exact address, but you can’t miss it.”
    “This is fine. This is great. Thanks, Bernie. Do you know his last name?”
    She shrugged. “For all I know, that is his last name. Everybody just calls him Jasper.”
    “I see.” I switched gears. “How well do you know Misty? Did she take her husband’s death hard?”
    “I don’t know her at all. Sorry.”
    “Have you at least met her?”
    “Oh, yes. She’s joined the Chamber of Commerce, and I go to all the meetings and write them up for The Beach Buzz .”
    “Impressions?”
    “Of Misty? Good name for her, by the way. If they named girls ‘Foggy’ it might be even better. Her mind works like a wind-up toy. She brought her son Paul along, and he just sat there like a lump the whole time. Never said a word. She had to elbow him when the meeting started because he was playing a game on his cell phone. Frankly I expect her business to fail within the year. She invested her life savings in it, as well as her husband’s life insurance, so she needs the income from the B&B. My source says she’s dried up, financially.”
    “Your source?”
    “Florence Purdy. You know, two houses that way,” she added, inclining her head to the west. “She runs the animal shelter’s resale shop on Locust Street.”
    “Oh, yes – Girlfriend’s. I know her boss, Taylor Verone.”
    “Everybody does. Nice lady. Listen, Ed, what’s gotten into you?”
    “Beg pardon?”
    “I was never was so surprised in my life when I heard you’d hooked up with that flimflam artist, Teddy Force. What were you thinking?”
    “Dollars.”
    She crowed. “And how’s it going?” She was enjoying herself; I wasn’t.
    I stared at her steadily. “You’re nobody’s fool, Bernie. You’ve got a shrewd idea of exactly how it’s going, but I went in with my eyes open, I signed a contract, and I intend to honor it if it turns out to be humanly possible.”
    “Well, I wish you joy of it,” she said, chuckling. “Anything else I can do for you?”
    “What do you know about the Whitby family? Specifically the ones who committed suicide?”
    “I know the local gossip, though people don’t seem as interested in that kind of thing these days as they used to be. But if it’s facts you want, you should ask Barnabas, over at the book store. He has the ‘morgue’ from his granddaddy’s newspaper up in the attic. He’ll know more than I will. He’s sort of the grand old man of Tropical Breeze. The Historical Society keeps pestering him to write up a History, but you know Barnabas. He’s probably too busy reading Plato to his cat.”
    “The two of you should collaborate,” I said.
    “Come to think of it, I should go interview Barnabas and then do an article on the history of the Whitby House. One of those historical snapshots for The Beach Buzz. Everybody loves ‘em. Misty might appreciate it, since she’s only trying to drum up business with this phony ghost story.”
    “Is that what everybody’s saying about it?”
    “Oh, nobody believes there’s any ghost over there, and neither do I. I, for one, don’t blame her. But the bigger subject of gossip is the show you and Teddy are going to do on it. Everybody claims they never watched Teddy’s old show, but they did. It’s kind of a guilty pleasure, watching them run around in the middle of the night acting like they’re in a low-budget slasher movie. And people do love ghosts.”
    “I suppose that’s the layman’s perspective,” I said. “It has always disappointed me that the subject isn’t treated as seriously today