Little Black Book of Murder by Nancy Martin Read Free Book Online Page B

What a headline!”
    â€œMarybeth is not crazy,” I said firmly. “She might have been angry, but she isn’t crazy. She’s an agricultural geneticist—­a very serious one.”
    â€œWe could have had a news event on our hands if I hadn’t lost my head and wrestled her into the dirt.”
    â€œYes, it’s too bad we lost out on a mass shooting.”
    He laughed. “I’m having a bit of fun, and you know it. We were all lucky.”
    I did my best to control my trembling hands. Maybe nobody had been hurt, but it had been a close call. Although it pained me to do it, I said, “Look, I appreciate what you did back there. It wasn’t luck. If you hadn’t stopped Marybeth, she might have missed her target and hit me instead.”
    Gus threw me a grin. “Did I save your pretty neck, Nora?”
    â€œYes, I think you did. And I—­well, thank you.”
    He laughed. “I was hoping to see an old-­fashioned American-­girl fight between Marybeth and Zephyr. Some hair pulling, at the very least. She’d been drinking, you know. I smelled it when we were rolling around in the dust together.”
    â€œMarybeth does have a temper,” I said. I remembered how Gus had lingered on the ground with her—­and how her arms seemed to find purchase on parts of his body that would normally be off-­limits. Maybe her temper wasn’t the only hot part of Mary­beth.
    â€œAnd what did she say about Swain walking funny?” Gus asked.
    â€œI don’t know what she meant.”
    â€œThat story isn’t over,” Gus predicted. “Starr might be starting a new life down on the farm, but he hasn’t dealt with his first family properly yet, has he? What do you think? Money problems?”
    â€œThere’s so much money in the family, it’s hard to imagine they need to fight over it. The Rattigans have hot dog money. And Swain made his own fortune.”
    â€œSomething has them all stirred up,” Gus said with delight.
    â€œYou mean besides Swain dumping his supportive wife after four children? For one of the most beautiful women in the world?”
    Gus groaned. “I’ll be bored to death if this story ends up being about jealous wives.”
    Me, too, I thought.
    I watched the passing scenery, thinking about what we’d just witnessed. “Did you hear the other thing Marybeth said? I get the impression Swain and Marybeth’s brother have gone into a partnership to raise some unusual variety of pig—­a pig that Marybeth bred. But something must have gone wrong.”
    â€œToo bad she couldn’t breed some of the pig out of her own son. What happened to Porky? He didn’t stick around for the shooting.”
    â€œStop calling him Porky,” I said. The pig jokes were an easy habit to fall into where the Rattigans were concerned. I fervently hoped I didn’t slip again and call Porter by his awful nickname to his face. To Gus, I said, “Marybeth said something about wanting the breeding stock back.”
    â€œBut the pig disappeared,” Gus said.
    â€œThat seems to be Swain’s side of the story.”
    â€œWhat do you think? Is he telling the truth?”
    â€œWhy would he lie?”
    Gus had a rollicking laugh. “Do you always assume people tell the truth?”
    I sent him a frown.
    â€œNothing insulting intended,” he assured me. “You’ll have to see what you can find out, that’s all. Not about pigs. Who cares about livestock? It’s Zephyr who’s going to be the marketable headline in all this, you’ll see.”
    I pointed out the turn, and Gus pulled into the lane of Blackbird Farm. The once-­austere house sat back a considerable distance from the road. If you drove past fast enough, you still got the impression of baronial splendor. But our private lane curved around the grove of oak trees in the front, following the line