Death on a Silver Platter by Ellen Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

had come to the conclusion that Margie didn’t like her because she thought Sophie was attempting to replace her mother. In her more honest moments, Sophie had to admit that Margie was probably right—she was trying too hard. Since her first husband had been awarded custody of their son, Rudy, Sophie’s confidence when it came to kids was already on the floor. She tried to make things right, to make it clear in every way possible that no one could ever replace Margie’s mother, who had died when Margie was twelve. Still, the waters of discontent never seemed to abate.
    During the last few years, Sophie had been forced to conclude that she and Margie simply didn’t like each other. They got along, for Bram’s sake, but they would never be close.
    Margie had the same vivid green eyes and chocolate brown hair as her dad, although on her, the elements came together to create a far different impression. Her face wasn’t as square as Bram’s, it was more of a classic oval, like her mother’s. Her makeup was usually tasteful, although she tended to like heavy, dark-colored lipstick— mahogany, deep purple, dark black-red—which Sophie found a bit cadaverous. The nose ring had been added in the last few years, as had the tattoo that ringed her upper right arm. She cultivated a calm, “soul of reason” exterior, one that belied an intense, sometimes anxious, and always judgmental interior. Tonight she was dressed in a white cotton sweater and tight black leather pants. On her well-muscled, slim body, the clothes looked terrific.
    In three months, Margie Baldric would turn twenty-eight. Sophie wondered if she’d changed any, if she was as tightly wound and volatile as she used to be.
    “What brings you to Minnesota?” asked Sophie, sitting down on one of the lounge chairs. She assumed it had something to do with the ten thousand dollars.
    “I’m coming home,” she said, smiling at her father.
    Bram added, “She’s starting a business with a friend of hers.”
    “What kind of business?” asked Sophie. “A friend from school?”
    “Carrie Sontag,” replied Margie, flicking some cigarette ash over the edge of the rail. “I met her in Austin. Remember I told you I was working for a wedding planner? She was the right hand to the guy who owned the place. I did the computer stuff in the back room and she worked with clients, coordinating services like catering, flowers, wedding cakes, hall rentals, all the details that go into making a really memorable event. We saw how much money he was making every month, and how little he was paying us, and we thought, hell, why do we need him ?” She laughed, then held the cigarette to her mouth and took a deep drag.
    Thus, the ten thousand dollars, thought Sophie.
    “But here’s the deal,” said Bram, turning to his wife. “Margie flew in just a few hours ago. Came straight here from the airport. She doesn’t have a place to live yet, so I thought—”
    “Of course,” said Sophie. “She should stay at the Maxfield until she gets settled. I’ll call down and arrange a room.”
    “No,” he said, elongating the word. “I was thinking more along the lines of something else. See, Margie’s worried about me—about my health, which is apparently the main reason she decided to come home. I’ve told her over and over again that I’m fine, better than ever. But she says she wants to spend more time with her old dad, and of course, that’s an offer I can hardly turn down. So I checked, and one of our apartments is vacant right now. I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to have Margie live here with us permanently? In her own apartment?”
    “I wouldn’t want to get in your way,” said Margie, tucking her hair behind her ears. “But I’d love living here. This place is awesome.”
    “What do you say?” asked Bram.
    He looked so expectant, so eager, Sophie could hardly say no. “Sure, that’s a great idea.”
    He cleared his throat. “She can’t afford the rent until