Fortune Hunter (A Miss Fortune Mystery Book 8) by Jana DeLeon Read Free Book Online Page A

and blew it out, then began. “It all started with Facebook. Maryanne said as how I should make an account so that I could see what was going on with my friends and family and such. I couldn’t see the point at first. I only have extended family left and haven’t had dealings with them for years. I probably wouldn’t know most of them if they knocked on my door. My friends are right here in Sinful, and I already know what their lives consist of because I see it firsthand. And quite frankly, no one’s life is so interesting that I think they ought to be taking the time to write it up and post it online.”
    From Beulah’s perspective, I could see her point. My minimal exposure to Facebook had been random pictures of people’s meals, a lot of ranting, and odd pictures of people with their lips stuck out and cheeks pulled in like they’d eaten something sour. On the other hand, if Ida Belle and Gertie wrote up their daily lives and posted it online, they’d either be arrested or carted away to the loony bin. I was voting on the latter. No one would buy the truth.
    “But Maryanne kept insisting,” Beulah continued, “saying as how I could meet people in groups online…groups for growing roses and cooking and the like. I do enjoy a good discussion on hybridization, and I’m always looking for a new take on an old recipe, so I finally gave in and set up an account.”
    “And was it everything Maryanne said it would be?” I asked.
    Beulah stared at me for a moment and blinked, like she was trying to remember who I was and why I was there. “Just curious,” I explained. “Gertie keeps trying to convince me to set up an account, but I’m more or less in the same position you are with family and friends.”
    “I suppose what Maryanne said was true,” Beulah said. “I found a few groups of flower gardeners, one in particular that had a horticulturalist in it that was very knowledgeable. She provided me with several tips that worked well.”
    Beulah frowned. “And then Thorne joined the group.”
    “Thorne?” I asked.
    Beulah’s expression shifted from frown to disgust. “Thorne Thompson. The man who stole my heart and my money.”
    “His name was Thorne?” I asked. What the heck kind of name was that?
    Beulah nodded. “He said his mother was a fan of some soap opera that had a character by that name. I thought it ironic, him being in a rose gardening group and being named Thorne. He even made a joke about it.”
    “How old is Thorne?” Gertie asked. “Or I guess I should say, how old did he claim to be?”
    “He said he was thirty-eight,” Beulah said.
    “And that didn’t seem strange?” Ida Belle asked. “A relatively young man, stationed overseas with the military, showing up in a group that I can only imagine was predominantly composed of older women?”
    “It did at first,” Beulah said, “but he had an explanation for everything. He said his mother was a big gardener and had lovely roses. But her eyesight was failing and she couldn’t see the computer screen well anymore. So he said he’d find her the information she needed and relay it to her during his weekly phone call.”
    I glanced over at Ida Belle, who looked completely disgusted. I agreed with her. The catfish had created the perfect man—younger, presumably good-looking, and dedicated to his aging mother. It would be a hard combination for an any older single woman to resist, much less someone like Beulah, who’d been alone most of her life. It was insidious and cruel, and suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to see whoever had done this pay.
    “I won’t go into all the details,” Beulah said. “I can’t stomach it right now. Maybe not ever. Thorne chatted with the group a bit most days, asking questions about hybridization. Then one day he sent me a private message, complimenting me on a picture I’d posted of my purple-and-white hybrids, and asking me how I’d managed the color combination.”
    Beulah sniffed and