A Premonition of Murder by Mary Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page A

kitchen cupboards are a mess, and the hosta has completely overtaken the garden. It’s like a jungle out there.”
    Ali and I exchanged a look. We’ve been to Lucinda’s adorable little house, and she keeps it in perfect condition. Even Martha Stewart would approve.
    I bit back a smile at the notion that things were “out of order” at Lucinda’s and reminded myself that everyone hasdifferent standards. Ali and I are not neat freaks by any means. We tend to be casual, with loads of books, newspapers, and overflowing tables in our comfy apartment above the shop, but not ready for a photo op.
    Our vintage candy shop downstairs is a different story. Thanks to our capable assistant, Dana Garrett, things at Oldies But Goodies are always shipshape. The candy bins are well stocked with the “classic” candies we’re known for, the glass cabinets are sparkling, and the whole place has a festive air, due to Dana’s flair for decorating.
    The evening ended on a positive note, and I noticed Sybil and Persia stopped to say a few sympathetic words to Rose and Minerva, who were the last to leave. I packed up some brownies and apple tartlets for the two Harper sisters to take home and watched as they made their way slowly down the stairs. Their hearts were heavy over the loss of their friend, and they looked older and less spry than ever. Even though they saw Abigail only occasionally, they had been friends with the reclusive heiress for over fifty years. Her death must certainly have been a shock to them.

5
    Ali and I rose early the next day, ready to go downstairs and get back to work at our vintage candy shop. We’d left everything to Dana as we tackled the issue of Abigail’s death, but now it was time to get back to business.
    Ali had been struggling to keep the shop going when I’d arrived in Savannah a few months earlier to help her. I’d loved the place from the moment I walked in the front door. The name, Oldies But Goodies, is written in an old-timey script on etched glass and matches the vintage theme. With its bleached oak floors, tin ceiling, and bins of retro candies, entering the shop is like taking a trip down memory lane. In an earlier life, the shop had been a jam factory, a community newspaper, and briefly served as a day care center. I don’t know how Ali got the idea of turning the place into a vintage candy shop, but I’m glad she did.
    Sunlight streamed in the front window from Clark Street, then zigzagged its way past the bins and counters of goodies.I could smell fresh croissants, and I smiled at Dana, who was pulling a heavy tray out of the oven. She placed it on the counter, along with a jar of homemade blueberry jam and a clay pot of sweet cream butter. It was Dana who came up with the idea of selling jams and chutneys, and they’ve become popular items.
    â€œBreakfast of champions,” Ali said, grabbing a croissant and slathering it with butter and jam. Dana had already brewed a pot of fresh coffee—hazelnut, my favorite—and a pot of Yorkshire Gold tea for Ali.
    â€œWhat a way to start the day,” I said appreciatively, sinking onto a bar stool and eyeing the freshly baked pastries. Dana had also defrosted a homemade coffee cake from the freezer. It’s a recipe that Ali has been tinkering with, and the final version has a rich poppy seed filling and a buttery crumb topping. I think it’s going to be a keeper.
Poppy seed cake or croissant?
Which do I want?
They both looked delicious. Dana must have read my mind, because she cut a small wedge of coffee cake, added a hot croissant, and passed the plate to me.
    â€œI’m so sorry about your friend,” Dana said softly. “It’s just awful.”
    â€œThanks,” Ali said. “We only met Abigail once, and I don’t know why I’m taking this so hard,” she commented. “We both are,” she added quickly.
    â€œIt was such a