Murder Crops Up by Lora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

accomplishment, fitting fat plastic blocks together to build a lopsided tower. An absence of blasting noises and shrieks indicated that the three Montrose boys were elsewhere.
    “These are great.” I took a second cookie, not to make Bridget feel better, but on my own account.
    “Preschool work day.” Bridget glanced at the clock. “Emery took the boys over, but I’m not going for another hour. So we have some time to put our heads together and figure out who would want Rita dead.”
    “The police are already doing that, and with far more likelihood of success than we’ll have.” I resisted the urge for another cookie. “I don’t know anything about Rita other than her work as the garden coordinator.”
    “Me neither.” Bridget looked smug. “But I know who might know something about her. And she’ll be here any minute.”
    “Melanie.” I sat back in the chair, sipping my cooling tea
    “She’s coming over to plan the birthday party.”
    “Which we haven’t begun to plan.”
    Bridget waved that away. “We’ll get to it. Murder is more important.”
    “We don’t know it’s murder.”
    Bridget sobered. “True. But I’m afraid it is. And that puts you in danger, Liz. Someone may think you make a convenient scapegoat. It’s happened before.”
    “You don’t know how special that makes me feel.” I set down the cup a little harder than I meant to. “What is it about me? I just want to keep a low profile and tend my gardens.”
    The doorbell rang. Bridget went to answer it. From my chair, I could see through the kitchen doorway into the living room. Melanie Dixon, her streaked brown hair perfectly arranged, led her equally cute little daughter into the house. Susanna dashed across the living room to join Moira, waving her flaxen-haired doll, which promptly nose-dived into Moira’s tower. Susanna screamed with laughter. Moira burst into tears.
    “I don’t know what makes Susanna so boisterous here,” Melanie said, frowning at Susanna while Bridget comforted Moira. Susanna, too, patted her back, murmuring, “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry, baby.” She sat on the floor and took more blocks out of the bin. “I build a big tower. Then she can crash.”
    After a few minutes, the moms joined me at the table. Melanie gave me a brief smile. “Hello, Liz.”
    “Melanie.”
    She accepted the cup of tea Bridget poured, but refused a cookie. I squelched the surge of irritation Melanie always inspired in me. She and Bridget had worked together before having children, and they also belonged to the local poets’ group. I knew they had things in common, but they were polar opposites as far as I was concerned.
    “When exactly is Claudia’s birthday? This is a very busy time for me.” Melanie pulled a leather-bound calendar from her Gucci bag. I wouldn’t have known it was Gucci if my niece, Amy, hadn’t educated me on one of our swings through the secondhand stores. “Let’s see." Melanie opened the calendar. “Is it before Thanksgiving?”
    “It’s next Wednesday.” Bridget took a cookie for herself. “I'll just have one, and really savor it,” she told Melanie, who had glanced pointedly at Bridget’s comfortably rounded figure.
    “On your hips be it.” Melanie sipped her tea, but couldn’t resist glancing at the cookie plate. “Oh, well, if everyone else is going to eat them—” She reached out and broke off a piece. “Next Wednesday? That appears to be free.” She sounded puzzled, as if unable to believe she had a free day.
    “And you’re available, right, Liz?”
    “If I’m not arrested.” It slipped out before I remembered that Melanie had no sense of humor.
    “Arrested? What have you done now?” Surreptitiously she broke off another piece of cookie.
    Bridget shushed me with a glance. “Do you know the Danceys? The family with the big construction business?”
    “The boys were at Paly when I was,” Melanie said guardedly, using the local name for Palo Alto High School.