Arsenic and Old Cake by Jacklyn Brady Read Free Book Online Page B

and I would like to book a room for a few days. Do you have anything available?”
    His Sexy Cajun act usually renders women weak in the knees, but the woman behind the front desk seemed more annoyed than impressed. She ran a slow look over both of us in turn. “ You want to stay here ?”
    A big old “I told you so” hovered on my lips, but I swallowed it and nodded. “If you’re not completely booked.”
    She stared us down for another few seconds, then lifted one thick shoulder and reached for a book on the desk behind her. “Should’a made a reservation,” she muttered. “But we have a room. Seventy-five a night. Breakfast every morning between six and nine. Don’t show up at nine-oh-five and expect to be fed. We don’t serve latecomers.”
    Gabriel didn’t blink. I didn’t dare. He glanced around the lobby, and I followed his gaze, taking in the furniture, covered in a bold flowered pattern, the polished wood tables, and a bookshelf filled with dog-eared paperbacks. One young couple cooed at each other on the couch, and another huddled near a small alcove, pouring over brochures advertising nearby points of interest and local businesses. They didn’t seem to notice us, and that gave me hope that we’d be able to fly under the radar while we were here.
    “It sounds perfect,” Gabriel said, turning back with a cheesy grin. “Doesn’t it, chérie ?”
    “Perfect.” I offered my friendliest smile to the she-bear behind the front desk.
    She ignored me and growled a question at Gabriel. “You want a street view or a room overlooking the garden? Garden rooms are ten dollars more a night.”
    “What do you think?” Gabriel asked me.
    What I really wanted was the room closest to Monroe Magee, but I couldn’t exactly ask for it. I’d seen the street view on the way in. I could only hope the garden would be more visually appealing. “I think the garden sounds lovely.”
    “Garden it is.” Gabriel rested one arm on the counter and lowered his voice a little. “This is our first time away together, so give us the best room you’ve got.”
    The woman squared her shoulders and sniffed as if he’d insulted her. “All of our rooms are equally nice.”
    I started to say that I was sure they were, but another woman—thinner, darker, and a handful of years younger—poked her head through an open door behind the front desk and gave a little squeal. Her hair fell to her shoulders, a riot of thick black curls, and her eyes were wide in her thin face.
    “More honeymooners? Oh, Hyacinth, isn’t this exciting ?” She bustled through the door and tossed a stack of folded towels onto one end of the long counter. Her head bobbed, birdlike, on her thin neck, and she chirped her words so fast it was hard to follow what she said. “Sister’s right, you know. We have the best honeymoon suites in the area, and I’m not lying when I say that.”
    “I’m sure you’re not,” I said.
    And Gabriel added, “We’ve heard good things about the Love Nest, haven’t we, baby?”
    Baby agreed that we had, and the newcomer chirped on like a robin on speed. “Now don’t you go worrying about the cost. Our rates are very reasonable.” She spread open a brochure in front of us and pointed at a cluster of pictures featuring a room completely decorated in red and white. “The Valentine suite has a king-sized bed, a jetted tub, and a balcony. It’s a lovely, lovely room. One of my favorites. Or there’s Nights in White Satin,” she said, directing our attention to another photo grouping. “Very romantic.”
    Hyacinth tried to push the brochure away. “Primrose, really. Let these poor children breathe.” She sent us a smile that looked almost apologetic. “Ignore my sister. She gets carried away at times. Now, as I said, all of our rooms are nice.”
    With an annoyed eye roll at her sister, Primrose cut in again. “You might like the Honeymooner better. It runs thirty dollars more a night, but the bed and the jetted