Domestic Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mystery) by Lane Stone Read Free Book Online Page B

for me.   Or for my mother.   I hated his guts, but now I feel sorry for him.”
    Whewee. You could have knocked me over with one of those funeral home fans they used to give away. I had never seen an ounce of spite in Paul, and here he was speaking ill of the dead.   What do you say after a speech like that? “Okay, we’ll see you at the restaurant.” It didn’t exactly hit the right note, I know, but it was all I had.  
    I returned to Beatrice. After looking around to be sure no one was in hearing range, I asked, “What did you want to talk about in the ladies room?”
    “I was going to ask if you three were here on business.   I didn’t want to say anything I shouldn’t.”
    “Yes and no.” We were nearing the tall, carved, wooden doors to the parking lot. Bea was going to have to let go of my arm for me to open them.
    Victoria joined us. “Shorty’s pulling our car around.”
    Hey, good lookin’, Whatcha got cookin? It was Detective Kent’s cell phone and he answered it.   Did I mention we were still at the funeral home?   He and Paige Ford had come up behind us. “Sure.”   He pressed a few buttons on his phone, smiling all the time. “It’s 678….”   As he read off the digits, they sounded more and more familiar. He was giving someone Tara’s cell phone number.
    I made eye contact with Vic and she took Bea’s other arm. “I’ll walk you to your car and bring you up to date.”  
      Jack added two people to the restaurant reservation.   For the Tiara Investigation detectives it was a foregone conclusion that the daughter and son-in-law would ride with Tara and Paul.   Tara can make a deer talk.   
    It took a minute to find said son-in-law, Al, to tell him.   The Assistant Funeral Director had waylaid him and he broke away to say he would prefer to drive his car so they could go straight home after dinner.  
    Poor thing never saw Tara’s next move coming. “I know what you mean. I always prefer to have my car with me.   Paige, hon, you ride with us.”  
    “Okay, Al?” Paige’s “little too happy” attitude, I had seen before. It’s how wives act when their husband’s hobby is embarrassing them in public. I wanted to know why she wasn’t concerned that her father’s body was missing. Why was she acting like a guest at his funeral?   Why had she invited herself and her husband to come to dinner with us?
    Al didn’t answer his wife because he had already walked off.   I took a deep breath.   Georgia’s chilly fall night air was a first-rate tonic.  
      Hey, good lookin’, Whatcha got cookin? This time it was Tara’s phone ringing. Yes, it’s the same ringtone as Detective Kent’s. She looked at the screen and rolled her eyes.   Paul opened his car door and waited for Tara to slide in. “Sweetie, I really need to take this call. Can I have just a sec?” She turned and gave me a come-with-me eye signal and we nonchalantly sauntered up the walkway. “You listen to me!” Just like that Tara let her real feelings with the person on the phone pour out.   She was sure pissed at somebody. “You have about as much chance of me going out with you as I have of hearing you pronounce an R . Now I’m hanging up to get in the cah .   Stop laughing.   I’m not kidding one bit.”   She hung up and flung her phone into her silver Tory Burch clutch.
    “Girl, you were giving him down the country!”
    She gave me an air kiss and whispered, “It was Charles Asher. Now he’s saying he’s in love with me.”
    “Asher Charles,” Detective Kent said as he walked by.  
    I took one last look back at the funeral home.   “Good-night, Pop Tart, wherever you are.” Then I got in the cah with my husband.  

CHAPTER 7

    Continuation of statement by Leigh Reed.   Jack and I drove east on Highway 20 toward Hartfield Hills’ brand new downtown area to one of my favorite restaurants, Deegan’s. Female diners wearing black pants are offered black napkins, rather than