No Way to Kill a Lady by Nancy Martin Read Free Book Online Page B

elevator and died.”
    The elderly woman sent me a severe glance. “Trapped in the elevator, eh? That’s what happens with modern conveniences. My father was an electrician—­spent his whole life repairing things that had gone wrong. When something newfangled breaks down, you’ve got a tragedy on your hands. Give me a horse and carriage any day.”
    â€œYou always had a big heart, Shirley,” Emma said.
    â€œIt’s a wonder worse didn’t happen in that house, with all the crazy people Madeleine had moving in and out all the time.”
    â€œWhat people?” I asked. “Her houseguests?”
    â€œIf that’s what you want to call them.”
    Emma had grown impatient. “How about that ride?”
    â€œClimb up,” the old woman said. “I’ll take you into town.”
    It took Emma two tries to jump up onto the driver’s box with Mrs. van Vincent. She wasn’t as agile as usual, and I gave her a boost. Libby and I clambered inside the coach and made ourselves comfortable on the plush leather seats. A moment later we were off.
    Libby collapsed against the cushions. “I’m in a state of shock,” she said. “I’m partially claustrophobic, you know. Getting trapped in an elevator with no food, nothing to drink, no company—­what a nightmare.”
    â€œIt would be awful,” I agreed.
    â€œI’m sure I’d be one of those animals that chewed off its own foot in captivity. I’d probably suffocate in two minutes or less if I were stuck in an elevator. Now, if I had some company, why, that would be a completely different story.”
    Libby was on a rant, so I let her babble the whole way into New Hope.
    We made quite a spectacle driving into the village in the coach-­and-­four. The horses’ hooves clattered on the pavement. Their harness jingled as merrily as Christmas bells. People on the sidewalks turned to wave. A gaggle of small children—­outdoors with their teacher from their day-­care center—­stopped and stared. But we also passed two police cars heading in the opposite direction. They were on their way to Quintain, I guessed, summoned by Deputy Foley to the elevator crime scene.
    We arrived at the Rusty Sabre Inn in no time. Shirley van Vincent drew up the horses, and the carriage glided to a stop in front of a parking meter. I climbed out and helped Libby to solid ground. She headed for the sidewalk. Then I reached for Emma’s hand to help her hop down from the box.
    â€œThank you, Mrs. van Vincent,” I said to Shirley when Emma had landed heavily beside me and waddled after Libby.
    Shirley effortlessly controlled her snorting team. “No trouble at all.” She leaned down to me and said in a lower voice, “Make sure Emma takes care of herself. Keep her out of the liquor. I know she likes to tipple.”
    â€œEasier said than done.”
    â€œAnd you.” She pointed her whip at me. “I hear you’ve been unlucky in love again. Your man is in jail now, is he?”
    â€œHe—­”
    â€œJust as well,” she said. “Let him go, young lady. Find yourself a match in your own neighborhood. No sense slumming in the criminal element.”
    Without waiting for my retort, the old woman loosened the reins, cracked her whip and sent the team charging down the street.
    People were always free with their opinions about my life, and I should probably have gotten used to it. But no, I still didn’t like it.
    Steaming, I followed my sisters into the Rusty Sabre. Emma made a pit stop, then ordered another breakfast while Libby and I contented ourselves with coffee. We hashed over the morning’s events. We had received the news of Madeleine’s demise when her lawyer called—­announcing he’d heard from the Indonesian government. It had been a civilized way to learn of a death. But finding these remains in an elevator close