This Little Piggy Went to Murder by Ellen Hart Read Free Book Online

the dank stone structure with furniture befitting a small, turn-of-the-centurycottage. It was totally out of character at Brule House. More than out of character, really. The frail, delicate antique furnishings seemed the wrong scale for the rooms. The sensation was like sitting amidst doll house furniture scattered inside a cave. A shame, too. The antiques were lovely, elegant and beautifully cared for. They were simply all wrong.
     
    Brule House had been built to withstand the harsh winter weather along the North Shore. The original architect, Ezra Holtman Brule, had been a man obsessed with ships. He’d built the stone sanctuary near the sight of an old boat landing as a retreat for himself and his wife in 1903. It was nestled on a bluff, less than a quarter mile from the famous lighthouse that eventually took his name. Over the years, the historic Brule’s Landing lighthouse had fallen into complete disrepair. On a whim, Luther and Amanda had purchased it from the county four years before. Since it bordered their property, officials were only too happy to get rid of what they considered a white elephant.
     
    A stout, white-haired woman appeared under the rounded living room archway, wiping her hands on a blue gingham apron. “Mr. Jorensen? There’s another call for your wife. One of the women from the feminist association wanting to express her sympathy.”
     
    Luther set his cup down with a crack. “Tell them she’s indisposed. She can’t come to the phone. Oh, and Alice, if they want to talk to me, say I’m taking a bubble bath.”
     
    “Mr. Jorensen!”
     
    “All right. Say I’m lying prone on the floor, kicking my feet and shrieking. Anything you want. Only I don’t want to talk to anybody, okay?”
     
    Alice shuffled away shaking her head.
     
    “Luther, for pete’s sake,” said Sophie, reaching for another slice of bread.
     
    “Well, what am I supposed to do? If it weren’t for Amanda, I’d break out the champagne. I mean really! You’re the last person for whom I should have to feign sorrow. You know how I despised that old goat.”
     
    “Luther!”
     
    “All right. I’ll stop.” He studied her for a moment.’’Not to change the subject too abruptly, but that’s an unusual sweater.”
     
    “Do you think so?” Sophie looked down at her orange-and-black rag wool cardigan. It was her favorite. “Bram picked it out.”
     
    “His tastes do turn to the bizarre.”
     
    “I beg your pardon?”
     
    “Sometimes I wonder where you found him.”
     
    “I hardly think a national radio personality was ever lost.”
     
    “You know what I mean. Even you have to admit he’s a little eccentric. How long have you two been married now?”
     
    “Five years in November.”
     
    “Indeed.” He grunted.
     
    Sophie decided to change the subject. “I guess Jack and Nora didn’t stay for breakfast.”
     
    “Nora never came.”
     
    “Oh. I assumed she had.”
     
    “Jack gave Amanda the news and then left immediately. He had an early meeting with several of his political advisers to discuss the possible negative fallout.”
     
    Sophie felt a shiver of disgust. “He’s not even allowed to mourn like a normal human being.” She nibbled on her bread. “Aren’t you eating anything?”
     
    “Not right now.”
     
    “What time do you have to be at the university?”
     
    Luther seemed puzzled by the question. “Didn’t Amanda tell you ? I’m sorry, Sophie, I thought she had. I’m on a leave of absence right now. Have been since midsummer; It’s truly amazing how the philosophy department trudges along without me.”
     
    Was that a hint of anger in his voice? Sophie wondered why Amanda hadn’t mentioned it. “Is it because of your health?”
     
    The question seemed to make Luther uncomfortable. Setting down his cup, he turned to fluff the pillow behind him. “Oh, I suppose. It’s all become so tedious.” He punched the lumpy annoyance into place. “The truth is, I was