Olive and Let Die by Susannah Hardy Read Free Book Online Page A

at regular intervals from the covered porch, which wrapped around the house, giving views of the river on three sides. Antique white wicker furniture was placed in casual groupings. I loved the Bonaparte House, which was probably at least fifty years older than this place and much less ornate, but I had to admit it would be a delight to sit on this porch with a glass of wine on a summer evening and read a good novel or to talk quietly with someone I loved.
    Love. I glanced up at Jack. I was pretty sure I was in love with him, my judgment being less than stellar in that area historically, but I was no teenager anymore. There was a big difference between being in love, and loving somebody, and we’d only been a couple for, well, a couple of months. I’d jumped in feet first, and it felt good to let go and not worry about the outcome. But a nagging feeling had me wondering if things had progressed too quickly. Too fast to last. Too good to be true.
    I shook my head. I would worry about all this later. Right now my curiosity was getting the better of me. “Are you going to tell me who we’re visiting?”
    Jack grinned. “There’s really no mystery,” he said as he pressed the button for the doorbell. A set of chimes rang inside the house. “Gladys is a friend of mine, and I thought you’d like to meet her.”
    I mentally ran through my personal list of Gladyses and came up short. Clearly I didn’t know as many people as I thought.
    A set of slow footsteps sounded behind the door. It swung inward, letting out a blast of cool air, which felt lovely. The day was warming up. A tall, thin elderly woman appeared in the doorway, her white curls waving gently in the breeze. The sleeves of her pink track suit were pushed up to reveal bony wrists and a couple of simple gold bangles. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath seemed faster than normal.
    In one of her hands, she held a stout stick with a rock lashed to one end.

SIX
    â€œPut down the war club, Glad,” Jack said. “I promise we’re not hostile.”
    â€œJack Conway, is that you finally?” The woman presented her powdery cheek to Jack and he dutifully kissed it. “And this must be Georgie. From the restaurant, right? Lovely to meet you, dear. I’ve been meaning to pop in and try some of the food I keep hearing about, but Dom used to get all bent out of shape if he found out I ate someplace other than the Sailor’s Rest.” Her face fell. “Not that I won’t miss the old bastard.”
    So she’d known Big Dom. Not surprising really. Dom had been murdered in August, a victim of my former almost-boyfriend and his greedy schemes. I’d like to think I had something to do with solving the case, but I’d really just fumbled my way through the entire situation. “Were you a relative?” I asked.
    â€œNo, no. But he was a distant relative of my late husband,a cousin on his mother’s side. Which, I suppose, is why he felt free to ask me for money when he got himself into a crack. And why I felt free to turn him down. Of course, I didn’t know he’d end up dead. But whether I’d given him money or not, the outcome would have been the same. He just couldn’t keep himself out of trouble.” She swung the club about absentmindedly, then seemed to come back to the moment. “But where are my manners? Please come in.”
    She stepped aside and Jack and I entered a moderately sized foyer. A dark oak staircase lined with intricately carved spindles lay to our left, a wooden cherub perched atop the newel post. The walls were rimmed with lovely wainscoting along the bottom, and a heavily patterned wallpaper—which I suspected might be original to the house, or at least a very good reproduction—along the top.
    â€œLet’s go on out to the kitchen and get something to nibble on.” Gladys led the way down the hallway, past several rooms on either