Dying to Retire by Jessica Fletcher Read Free Book Online Page A

the pig, she don’t want to move anywhere else. My brother went back to Miami, and they’re getting a divorce.”
    “When Wainscott built Foreverglades, he gave his word he’d never put up anything between our development and the water,” Minnie said. “Now he’s talking about building three high-rise buildings, which will completely block our views. People are already leaving Foreverglades.”
    “So much for his word of honor,” Helen said. “Look at that.” She swept her arm toward the expanse of blue water. “It’ll be gone. I didn’t come down here to see big buildings all the time. I could have stayed in Chicago for that.”
    “Fullero!” Amelia spat. “Cheater! And then, if that’s not insult enough, he’s going to put a fence around it with a guard at the gate. We won’t be able to get to the beach from the village. We’ll have to go all the way down to a new road that’s not even built yet.”
    “Plus, if you’re not careful, you could run into an alligator going that way,” Helen said. “Did you hear about the woman up in Perrine who lost her foot? Came out of her house in the afternoon to cut some key limes for a pie and there it was, crossing her lawn on the way to her pool. The thing was about five or six feet long, and—whomp!—bit her on the ankle, going clear through to the bone.”
    “How dreadful,” Minnie said.
    “We should sue him for breach of promise,” Amelia said.
    “Who?”
    “Wainscott.”
    “I think you mean breach of contract,” I said, trying to keep up with the ricocheting conversation. “Did he have a contract with you stating his intentions not to build?”
    “We thought so,” Amelia said. “ Naturalmente, his lawyers say it doesn’t really promise anything. They say it’s all in the little print or something.”
    “You mean the fine print?” I asked.
    “Try standing in a shop all day without a foot,” Helen muttered.
    “ Sí. That’s it.” Amelia nodded at me. “ ‘Can’t stop progress,’ he says. The big crook.”
    “Croc? No, they’re alligators. Girl, I tell you, I’m looking out for alligators every time I walk to the bay,” Helen said. “They really scare me.”
    “Portia wasn’t scared. She was the bravest person I ever knew,” Amelia said, sniffling.
    “He looks so sad, doesn’t he?” Minnie said, handing Amelia a tissue.
    “Quién?” Amelia asked, blowing her nose.
    “Clarence.”
    Clarence, who stood by the door of Sam’s pink Cadillac, shook hands with the minister, and accepted the sympathies of several of his neighbors before climbing in the backseat.
    “Where is he going?” I asked.
    “Probably to the place where they do the cremation,” Minnie said. “The undertaker has a hearse for the coffin, but no limousines. So Sam fills in when a limo is needed. He’s supposed to charge for the car service, but he never has. ‘Not for funerals,’ he says, ‘and not for friends.’ ”
    “That’s very kind of him,” I said.
    “He’s such a mensch,” she said fondly. “That means ‘good guy’ in Yiddish. He started the service as a way to earn a few extra dollars—the nearest limousine company is over in Florida City—but he’s such an easy target for a sob story that I don’t think he’s earned a penny yet. Anybody gives him a good excuse, or even a terrible one, and he drives them for free. I wouldn’t care except that gas guzzler is going to break us if it doesn’t earn its keep. Parts for that old heap are not cheap.”
    “Ooh, Minnie, you made a rhyme,” Amelia sang out, smiling.
    “I did?”
    “Who’s going over to the Shelbys’?” Helen asked.
    “Everyone,” Minnie said, rummaging around in her handbag.
    “Amelia and I have to get back to the shop,” Helen said. “We probably have ten people waiting by now.”
    “Well, come by when you’re done,” Minnie said, pulling out her sunglasses.
    “What time do you figure Clarence will be back?”
    “Doesn’t matter. Carrie has the key,