P.I. I Love You (Miss Demeanor Suspense Series Book 1) by Joanne Jaytanie Read Free Book Online Page A

directions to her place?”
    “It’d be my pleasure. Before you leave I want to box up a blueberry pie. Her housekeeper is a good cook; still Mrs. Darnell always says I make the best blueberry pie.”

    River took a long drive to the top of the hill. The Darnells lived in a mansion, not a house. The gardens overflowed with all nature’s colors. They were expansive and well-kept, as was the beautiful house, from what she could see. River parked her car and walked up to ring the bell.
    “Good afternoon,” said a handsome middle-aged woman.
    “Good afternoon. My name’s River Nightingale, and I believe Mrs. Darnell is expecting me.”
    “She is. Come in. Don’t tell me, a blueberry pie?”
    “Yes, the owner of the diner wanted me to bring it to her.”
    The housekeeper took the box.
    “Well, this will be a special treat. Mrs. Darnell hasn’t felt much like going into town the past few weeks. Maybe this will lift her spirits. Please follow me; she’s in the solarium enjoying the afternoon sun.”
    Mrs. Darnell sat in a white wrought iron chair with intricate patterns on the back. Soft pale green cushions were attached to the seat and back. She was dressed in cream-colored, well tailored, raw silk slacks, with a matching cream and beige silk top. Her silver hair was pulled loosely back and gathered in a swirl at the base of her skull. A few wisps left free framed her elegantly-aged face. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, soaking in the rays of the early afternoon. Surrounded by ivies, ferns, ficus, hibiscus, passion flowers, and orchids, River could picture this on the cover of Traditional Home Magazine.
    “Good afternoon, Mrs. Darnell. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
    “Not at all,” Mrs. Darnell said as she leaned her head forward. “River Nightingale, please pardon my lack of good manners. I’m not as spry as I used to be. Please come over and have a seat. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
    “Thank you, I too have been looking forward to meeting you,” River said, and took a seat directly across from the older woman.
    “I received a phone call from my grandson. He informed me you were working for him, trying to find out who murdered my precious Trudy. Thank you, sincerely, for discovering Trudy and Wade were murdered. Please find out who did this. I will do anything to help you.” She reached for the fine lace handkerchief on the table beside her and dabbed her damp eyes. “I attended my daughter’s funeral, and yet I feel as though she could walk in at any time.” She dabbed again. “How is it I can help you? I didn’t know many of their business associates. If my husband were still alive, I’m sure he would be of more help.”
    “Is that the only thing Blake told you I wanted to speak with you about?”
    “Yes,” she said in an uncertain tone.
    “I came here to speak with you regarding a different subject.” River quickly learned people found it extremely difficult to give their loved ones bad news, and would often leave the matter to the police—or private detective.
    “I would like to get your take about the accident and anything you may know with regards to the days leading up to it. However, that’s not the main reason I’m here.”
    Mrs. Darnell tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips. “I see.”
    “I believe this would be easier coming from your daughter.” River reached into her oversized purse which she used as her traveling briefcase, and pulled out a copy of Trudy’s letter. River got up, walked over to her, and placed it in her slightly shaking hands. She sat back in the chair and waited for the woman to read the note, deal with the flood of emotions to follow, and finally reach resignation.
    “Garnet and Blake know?” the older woman asked as her watery hazel eyes locked onto River’s. Tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks. “I begged her, God knows, I begged Trudy not to do this. I tried everything. Told her that her father and I would