Larceny and Old Lace by Tamar Myers Read Free Book Online Page A

hug and let him lick my face a few times. “Next time trying chewing that white suede,” I whispered.
    Charlie was indeed in the kitchen, chowing down on the remains of an extra-large pizza. Tweetie undoubtedly cooked like she decorated. And what else did she expect a seventeen-year-old boy to do besides eat? Besides that , for pete’s sake?
    â€œMama!”
    I hugged Charlie and tousled his hair. Thank God the gene for baldness doesn’t pass through the father. Even a cue ball has more fuzz clinging to it than Buford.
    â€œWhat’s up, Mama? You want some pizza? The bitch wouldn’t let me order extra cheese. Says she’s trying to watch her weight.”
    I accepted dinner from my son. After supper I tousled his hair again. Charlie doesn’t mind pizza grease in his hair.
    â€œHoney, Aunt Eulonia died last night. Did you hear?”
    He shook his head, tears welling up immediately. “I was at school all day, then football practice. I just got home.”
    â€œLook Charlie, I’ll tell it to you straight. Anyway, you’re going to read about it in the paper. She was murdered.”
    He sat bolt upright. “No way!”
    â€œYes, dear, last night. I would have called you then, but I wanted to tell you in person.”
    He nodded, a far-off look in his eye. Undoubtedly he was remembering some of the good times he had known with his great-aunt. When he was little he used to spend the night ather house, and the two of them would stay up until dawn, playing canasta and making peanut brittle.
    â€œShe was one of a kind,” I said. “Why would anyone want to kill an old lady like that?”
    He looked me in the eyes.
    â€œI know why she was killed, Mama. I know why they killed Aunt Eulonia.”

6
    â€œY ou know who killed Aunt Eulonia?”
    â€œNo, but I know why she was killed.”
    Like all teenagers, Charlie lies through his teeth, but he is not given to dramatic statements. He has never felt the need for a spotlight.
    â€œWhy?”
    He looked me in the eye. “Because of her lace.”
    Perhaps I had misjudged my son. “Her lace?”
    He nodded. “Yeah. Aunt Eulonia had this lace thing—I forget what you call it—that she said was very valuable. That’s why she was killed.”
    I smiled. A full day of school and then football practice. The boy was undoubtedly exhausted.
    â€œLace isn’t that valuable, dear. Sure, if you get some really old stuff, and it’s clean and not stained, it’s worth something. But not enough to kill for. I mean, who would kill somebody for twenty-five dollars?”
    He shook his head. “This was really special. She was going to sell it, you know. At an auction. In New York.”
    â€œSotheby’s?”
    â€œYeah, that sounds like it.”
    I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was on to something.
    â€œDid you see this lace?”
    â€œUn-unh. But she told me about it. She said it was really old. Hundreds of years even. It was made in Italy, or Spain.”
    â€œGo on.”
    He grunted and reached for the last slice of pizza. “That’s all I know about it, Mama. Oh, except that if it sold at this place in New York for half of what she thought it would, she was going to retire and take a trip around the world. She wanted to take me with her.” His eyes filled with tears. “We were going to Africa first—on a photo safari. When we were all done, we were going to end up in Alaska walking on one of those glaciers.”
    That sounded like Eulonia Wiggins alright.
    â€œYou never mentioned this,” I said. I tried not to make it sound like an accusation.
    â€œI wasn’t supposed to. Not yet. She wanted me to wait until after the auction. She was afraid talking about it would jinx it. I guess it did.” He turned away to wipe his eyes.
    I sat quietly until he had composed himself. “Did anyone else know about