Tempest in the Tea Leaves by Kari Lee Townsend Read Free Book Online Page A

swear to God if a certain someone had brought this misery to my doorstep, I’d—
    “Mr. and Mrs. Meadows, so glad you could make it.” The devil himself waltzed through my front door without even knocking. “The name’s Detective Stone.”
    Only one thought ran through my mind over and over: here was a murder I’d gladly do the time for.
    “I’d ask you to come in, Detective, but gee, you already did.” I closed the door behind the real rat in the house. Where was Morty when I needed him?
    “Sylvia, mind your manners, dear,” my mother said. “I raised you better than that.” I knew she was frowning on the inside even if her Botoxed wrinkle-free face didn’t show it.
    “Sorry, Mom, it’s been a long day,” I mumbled, feeling like a child. Every time I was around them, they had that effect on me. Might as well roll with the mood I was in. I stuck out my tongue at the detective behind her back, and his lips twitched. If he laughed at me, I’d smack him good. “I was about to take a lunch break when you guys, er, surprised me. Anyone hungry?”
    “We already ate,” my dad said, following my lead to the kitchen.
    “Tea, then?” I entered Vicky’s massive kitchen with her well-worn hardwood floors, antique harvest table, and chipped china.
    This room had been frequented regularly over the years. I could see why. The table sat right by the large windows that allowed the glorious rays of afternoon sunshine to pour in and warm the area, making the room come alive. The decor in this room, like the rest of the house, was older than my great-grandmother’s hope chest. So full of charm and history. I loved it all.
    A musty whiff of mildew and mothballs drifted past my nose. I smiled warmly. Morty was here, somewhere, no doubt hiding. And watching . . . always watching.
    “I’ll take coffee if you have some,” Dad said to me, then turned to the detective. “Not a big fan of tea, although Sylvia’s is reported to be outstanding.” He went to sit at the head of the table, and the chair slid from beneath him all on its own. He fell down hard, and my mother rushed to help him up.
    “Oh, dear me, this place is a death trap.” Mom dusted off the back of Dad’s coat.
    “Gotta watch these old houses and all the creatures within.” Detective Stone glanced around warily, and I knew he was looking for Morty. “They can be temperamental.” He chose his seat carefully on the side of the table. “I’ll take tea. I’m pretty observant.” He stared me down. “Maybe I can guess what’s in it.”
    “Sorry, Detective.” I smirked, sitting at the head of the table with ease and relishing the looks on their faces. Most people would be freaked out, but I wasn’t most people. I didn’t spook easily. “Can’t give away my award-winning secret recipe, now can I?” I said to the detective.
    “Depends on the secret part.” He swirled his tea around as he talked. “What you put in it could land you in jail.” He smelled it and took a couple sips.
    “She’s not going anywhere.” My mother sat up straight, her eyes taking on a calculating gleam, her tone becoming no-nonsense.
    “Says who?” Detective Stone met my mother’s gaze, studying her closer, no doubt reassessing her.
    “Says her lawyer,” she said matter-of-factly. “Pass the cream and sugar, please.”
    Um, yeah, not going to happen. “Wait a minute, Mom. You’re not my lawyer. I don’t need a lawyer because I’m innocent.”
    “Innocent of what, exactly?” My father slid the cream and sugar in front of my mother and faced the detective head-on. “What exactly has my daughter done this time?”
    “Dad!”
    “I take it she has a history of getting into trouble?” The detective set his nearly empty tea down and wrote in his notebook.
    “Not trouble per se.” Mom waved her hands about. “Just predicaments with her little hobby.”
    “Mom!”
    “Hobby?” Detective Stone asked, writing more of God-knew-what in that damn notebook of