Pie A La Murder by Melinda Wells Read Free Book Online

favorite street in Beverly Hills, because it was lined on both sides with mature maple trees. It had been built in the 1960s, when houses in the area were set far enough back from the sidewalk to allow for a graceful sweep of front lawn. Many of the older homes in Beverly Hills had been torn down and replaced by huge houses that used up most of the size of their lots. When two of these monuments to excess were side by side, I was sure the residents could hear everything that was going on inside the belly of their neighbor’s “whale.”

    Liddy, Celeste, and I were sitting under the big yellow and white striped shade umbrella on Liddy’s poolside patio. Celeste sipped at her glass of distilled water while Liddy and I picked at our fruit salads. I would have liked something more substantial, and I’m sure Liddy would have, too, but that wouldn’t have been polite with Celeste having only water.
    While I was trying to think of a tactful way to find out more about Freddie, Liddy just asked the question: “Who’s Freddie? You called him your mother’s ‘prince’?”
    Celeste wrinkled her nose as if a bad odor had wafted across her path. “ He says he’s a prince. I guess he is. He’s got a coat of arms, and servants who call him ‘your highness.’ I just call him Freddie.”
    I wondered what her mother called him.
    “I don’t think I’ve heard of a Prince Freddie,” Liddy mused. “What country?”
    “One that doesn’t exist anymore,” Celeste said. “He says he’s the grand nephew of Princess Eugenie Helene of Bavaria. I Googled her. She was the eighth child of King Maximilian. Freddie’s full name is Fredric Wilhelm Karl Ludwig von Hoffner. He also told us he’s a distant cousin of Queen Elizabeth. Mother joked that if the twenty-seven royals in line ahead of him all die at once he could become King of England. Freddie laughed, sort of.” She stretched her mouth in imitation of a toothy grin and gave a mirthless chortle. “But I don’t think he has a sense of humor about his title.”
    “Did your mother tell you why she’s come to Los Angeles?” I asked.
    “No, but I think it must be Freddie’s idea. Mother always said she hates Los Angeles. She says it’s full of pretenders .”
    Liddy laughed. “It’s the home of the movie business. Make-believe. Actors earn their living pretending.”
    “Not that kind of pretending. We like actors. They’re fun to have at dinner parties. She meant that this place is full of phonies.”
    That was too much. I challenged her. “And Europe isn’t ?” I’d been hanging back politely, acting like the kind of careful, afraid-to-express-a-real-opinion woman that I detest.
    “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Celeste said. The apology didn’t sound sincere. “I’m sure your friends are very nice.” She looked at her watch—a Rolex that cost twice as much as my Jeep. “Liddy, can you drive me to my father’s place now? I’d like to take a nap before I have to call Mummy.” She stood up. With a polished formality that I recognized was dismissive, she said, “I hope I see you again, Della.”
    “You will.”
    My quiet statement seemed to surprise her, then I saw the proverbial lightbulb go off in her head.
    “Oh, so you’re the one Daddy’s sleeping with. I thought it was Liddy,” she said.

7

    I heard Liddy gasp. “Celeste, you know I’m married.”
    Celeste shrugged. “In Europe married people sleep with other people all the time. I’m sure they do in America, too. It’s not a big deal.”
    “It’s a very big deal!” Liddy said. “If I ever caught Bill cheating, I wouldn’t divorce him, I’d kill him. And if the situation were reversed, and I did such a thing, I’d expect him to kill me, because we love each other.”
    She thought Nicholas was seeing Liddy because Liddy’s a stunning blonde, probably like Celeste’s mother .
    “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” I said lightly.
    Celeste stared at me so intently I wondered