Murder Over Cocktails: The 2nd Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries) by Nancy Skopin Read Free Book Online Page A

yards from the street and it sits on seven acres.”
    “That sounds wonderful,” I sighed.
    We made the rest of the drive in silence. Maggie took Sand Hill Road up to Highway 280 south, exited on El Monte, and made a left on Davis Court.
    When we pulled off the road onto the private drive the first thing I noticed was the footbridge. Like something out of a fairy tale, it spanned a twinkling brook which was shaded by a willow tree. It was enchanting.
    The driveway ended in front of a four-car garage connected to the house by a breezeway. Above the garage was a loft apartment, which could be approached from the outside by external stairs. The manmade pond was set back to the right of the house. No swans were in residence today, and I was disappointed, but the overall effect was still charming. The house itself was a slightly modern version of traditional Mediterranean style architecture.
    As we got out of the car Maggie removed a set of keys from her purse. “What do you think?” she asked.
    “It’s lovely,” I said, trying not to sound awestruck. The estate reminded me of a European villa, which appealed to my romantic nature.
    Maggie unlocked the front door and pushed it open, allowing me to enter first. The foyer had quarter-sawn white oak flooring polished to a high gloss. The walls were painted ecru with a glaze that created the illusion of antiquing. The vaulted ceiling was about thirty feet overhead. In the center hung a wrought iron and crystal chandelier. A broad spiral staircase wound up from the foyer to the second floor, and the steps appeared to be made of marble.
    To the left of the entryway was a library with built-in floor-to-ceiling walnut bookshelves. There was even a rolling library ladder. A pair of French doors faced the front yard and the little brook with the footbridge. I could probably stand to live here.
    To our right was a sunken living room. We started our tour there. Light streamed in through the expansive windows. There was a huge flagstone fireplace on the far wall and the carpet was spotless cream-colored Berber. I appreciated the low pile, since I tend to trip over my own feet easily enough without the assistance of more dense carpeting.
    As we moved from room to room I could feel the tension radiating from Maggie, but couldn’t for the life of me figure out what she had to be nervous about. I was sure there was no reason for her to suspect I was anything other than a potential client.
    We strolled through the living room and into the kitchen, which featured a seafoam-green granite center island equipped with two sinks and a dishwasher. A doublewide stainless steel subzero refrigerator was discreetly inset into the wall. The overhead lighting was recessed, casting a golden glow over the exquisite room. There were two additional sinks under a bay window facing the pond. Directly off the kitchen was a dining alcove surrounded by windows on three sides. If I had a kitchen like this, I might even learn to cook.
    The house I grew up in was a modest two-bedroom one-bath in South San Francisco. My parents considered themselves lucky to be able to own a home, and, for the most part, I’m happy with my simple lifestyle. If you live aboard, you just haul the boat out of the water every couple of years and have the bottom scraped, painted, and repaired if necessary, keep your through-hulls clean, maintain the engine, deck, and brightwork, and you’re in business. If you decide it’s time to move, you just untie the lines and shove off. This knowledge allows me a treasured sense of freedom.
    After touring the first floor we climbed the marble stairs and entered the enormous master suite. Across the expansive room sliding glass doors opened onto a wide deck overlooking the side yard and the pond. To their left was a fireplace surrounded by emerald green tile and crowned by a huge ornate mirror. There were two, count them, two walk-in closets. On board my boat I make do with a single hanging locker