3 Loosey Goosey by Rae Davies Read Free Book Online Page A

never texted me. As she had explained to me numerous times, texting was sure to be the end of the English language.
    Which, considering her Ozarkian accent and interesting choice of regional phrase on many occasions, I found to be a tad hypocritical. But I kept the opinion to myself.
    I pressed in the code to unlock my phone and hit messages.
    Why didn’t I know your brother was in Helena? And what is this picture about?
    Complete sentences. That was a good sign. At least she hadn’t completely gone off the deep end.
    But the mention of a picture was not. Obviously, the photograph printed in the News today had also been featured in the online edition, which my mother read religiously.
    My need to find Ben had just increased 100-fold. I’d already taken one fall for his goose. He could man up and take this one with our mother.

 
     
    Chapter 5
    When Kiska and I arrived at Dusty Deals, the shop was already hopping. Or at least the two occupants were... hopping mad, that was.
    Betty, dressed in a conservative dove gray drop-waisted silk, held one end of a rectangular coffee table while Phyllis, wearing eye-searing hot pink, tugged on the other.
    “It is not trash. It’s mid-century,” Phyllis proclaimed, giving the table’s top a jerk.
    “This is an antique shop, not the local thrift store.” Betty pulled back.
    “It’s Danish modern!”
    Phyllis’ eyes narrowed and her brows lowered. It was Betty, though, that worried me the most. I could see a glimmer in her eye that boded ill for Phyllis and any merchandise that the Texan’s body might hit when Betty slung her out of the way.
    I scrambled past Kiska, who had stopped to gawk, and wrapped my arms around the middle of the object de objection. Both women, apparently oblivious to my presence, continued to tug.
    “Drop it!” I yelled. For once I must have gotten the tone of command right; women and dog alike turned their heads to look at me. “We don’t have time for this right now. I found the new chef dead under my brother’s car!”
    It was a lot to blurt out, but the announcement did the trick. Betty and Phyllis both released their holds on the table and stepped back. Unfortunately, that left me holding forty pounds of maple by myself.
    I staggered forward, almost hitting a stack of china before Betty and Phyllis jumped back in to grab the table and help me lower it to the ground.
    “Yowza, girlfriend. You found another body?” Betty shook her head. “How’s Peter handling that?”
    “Not Tiffany Williams! I dropped off pictures of some of our mid-century pieces there two days ago, and her landlord just called me back yesterday. He’s supplying her apartment furnished, but now... poor girl.” Distress shone in Phyllis’ eyes. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if it was at Tiffany’s demise or the thought that her deal might be compromised.
    Still, I had to appreciate that both women, in their own ways, expressed concern on how Tiffany’s death affected me and Dusty Deals before anything else.
    They both, though, seemed to have missed the part about my brother.
    Someone else hadn’t.
    “And just where can I find your brother?”
    Busy with the table and my news, Betty, Phyllis, and I had completely missed the tall, lanky, and arrogant Detective Stone entering the store. Kiska might have seen him, but if so, he’d decided the police officer wasn’t a likely prospect for cookies and had wandered off somewhere, probably to take a nap.
    “Officer Miller said you left before giving us a contact number.”
    “I was told I could leave.”
    “By Detective Blake?”
    The insinuation was obvious. I chose to ignore it by pretending interest in the placement of the table that Betty, Phyllis, and I had nearly smashed onto the floor.
    I pushed it back a bit with my foot, then stepped away to assess its positioning.
    “What is this, body number three, Ms. Mathews?”
    It was, and he knew it. I turned to find Betty and Phyllis lined up beside me like guard dogs