MURDER at CRAWFORD HOUSE (Allie Griffin Mysteries Book 3) by Leslie Leigh Read Free Book Online Page B

legs carrying her plump body over to the door when Allie walked in; rubbing her face all over Allie's legs – the traditional kitty cat "Hello" – with her little nose sniffing intently at her legs to try and discern all the foreign places this wonderful person had been to in her absence. If only she were a cat, able to tell the story of the world and all its secrets by sheer smell—
                  She picked her head up off her hand and said quietly, "His smell." She raised her voice so that Del would hear. "That smell. His smell."
                  "What? What are you talking about?"
                  "Bertie had this scent to him. Like some kind of fine soap. Like those high-end, handcrafted soaps they sell in boutiques or by mail order only. It was like flowers and tobacco and whatever. Whatever it was, it wasn't any soap that was laid out for Larry's guests to use."
                  "So you're saying..."
                  "Larry didn’t wash his face in there. Not at that time." Allie stood up and stared at her friend, a feeling of eerie calm doing very little to untwist the knot in her gut that had begun the moment she set foot in this house.
                  "So, once again," she said, "why was he in there? And why did he lock the door?"
                  Del did not have an answer.

PART II
     

1.
     
                  The entire group assembled in the drawing room to talk about what had happened. As they got settled, a couple with stiff drinks in hand, the lights flickered once, causing everyone to stop breathing just for a moment and look up and around, as if the source of the electrical glitch was located in the air somewhere close by.
                  "We have a problem," said Larry Gordon. “The phones are out, and there's no mobile service either. Mobile service is usually spotty around these parts; with the storm raging out there, you can't get a signal for anything."
                  Larry's words seemed to sink right to the floor.
                  "Well, we have to do something," said Molly. "I, for one, do not very much like the thought of sleeping with that...that...upstairs." She gestured toward the ceiling.
                  Allie stood up. "What do you suppose we do? We can't disturb the scene."
                  "The scene?" Molly's expression was one of indignation. "It's not like a crime has been committed here."
                  "I realize that," Allie said calmly. "But you have to realize that any incidents of sudden death, even from natural causes, are usually matters for the police and coroner."
                  "Her boyfriend's a cop," added Del.
                  "He's not my boyfriend."
                  "Whatever," said Del.
                  Molly threw up her arms. "Oh, this is ridiculous. I can't believe there isn’t anything we can do."
                  "We could lock the bathroom door and wait till tomorrow," said Allie.
                  "I'm with Allie," said Rachel Forrester, casting a sideways glance at her. "We shouldn’t interfere."
                  Outside, the storm winds shrieked.
                  Larry Gordon cleared his throat. "I think we all should probably try to get some sleep. I'll lock the bathroom door."
                  The guests all sat silently. Allie, Larry, and Molly were the only ones standing. Everyone was either looking at the floor or sat with their heads in their hands.
                  One by one, as if the result of a chain reaction, the guests began to stand, taking deep breaths and letting them out as sighs. Not a word was exchanged between anyone. It was like a funeral was letting out.
                  Molly Townsend left the room first, and quickly. Larry Gordon followed after. Allie