Death of an Irish Diva by Mollie Cox Bryan Read Free Book Online

turned your back on your family, you ought to be ashamed.”
    â€œI haven’t done that, Bea. Times are tough everywhere,” he said. “I am still sending Vera money for Elizabeth. It’s just that she’s not making as much on her own.”
    â€œMen. Do you always equate love with money? One of these days Elizabeth isn’t even going to know you, Bill. Then how will you feel?”
    â€œI just saw her what? Two, no, three weeks ago.”
    â€œ Three weeks? Humph,” Beatrice said.
    Silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “I’m sorry, Bea. I’ve been very busy settling in here. You’re right. I need to see Elizabeth.”
    Beatrice took the roast out of the refrigerator. She’d taken it out of the freezer last night. She placed it in the kitchen sink. Child brides. Ex-wives. Money. Love. When did modern life get to be so mixed up, you couldn’t even have a simple Sunday dinner without causing a ruckus?
    She scooped coffee out of the can, placed it in her coffeemaker, turned it on, and went to sit on the sunporch, wondering when Jon would get up. The scent of the coffee brewing filled her with comfort.
    As she sat down in her wicker rocking chair, it creaked and sighed with age. She should probably get another one, but it suited her.
    â€œGood morning,” Jon said as he entered the porch and kissed her on the cheek.
    â€œMorning,” she said.
    â€œReady for your coffee?”
    She nodded.
    He came back with a cup of coffee for her and had the paper, as well. He sat down and started reading it.
    â€œWell, this is something,” he said. “Emily McGlashen’s murder gets more mysterious.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Beatrice asked after taking a drink of her morning elixir.
    â€œHer body still remains unclaimed by her family, though the police say they’ve found them and they are on the way to Cumberland Creek.”
    â€œBut that is odd. It’s been what? A week? I thought there was a couple here a few days ago. . . .”
    â€œNo. There was a mix-up with her name. Her parents have a different last name, from what I’ve heard.”
    â€œReally?” She mentally leafed through the article Annie had written about Emily. No mention of any of this. She remembered Annie had said she had problems getting anything on Emily. It was all the smoke-and-mirrors press release standard stuff. Maybe she should read it again. She thumbed through her stack of newspapers.
    â€œHer parents are living in a commune of a sort.”
    â€œFascinating,” Beatrice said, sipping her coffee, gradually feeling her senses come alive.
    â€œI wonder if Annie knows all this,” Jon said. “She seems to be in the know most of the time.”
    Beatrice skimmed the article. “International Irish dance champion . . . from California, lived in London, Madrid, Rome, Galway . . . studied with so-and-so . . . . retired at the age of twenty-seven to teach . . . will be greatly missed.” No mention of her parents. No names. Nothing.
    â€œI can’t help but think of the NMO. Surely, the NMO would not be so foolish as to murder another young woman, not now, with this book being written about them. All this attention. Even they could not be so stupid,” Jon said.
    Beatrice loved listening to him speak. With that French accent, even the word stupid didn’t offend her.
    Beatrice thought for a moment. The paper hadn’t mentioned any NMO trademarks being at the scene of the crime. So it seemed unlikely. Besides, strangulation was a personal way to kill someone. Someone really wanted to watch her die and didn’t mind watching the life drain out of her. Beatrice shivered.
    Sometimes, Beatrice wished this country wasn’t so free. People had the right to believe what they wanted, but she just wasn’t so sure about acting on those beliefs. She often thought of the innocent lives taken based on nothing more