The Icing on the Corpse by Liz Mugavero Read Free Book Online Page B

eyebrow at Brenna. Stan covered her eyes. She didn’t want to watch. Then she heard her mother say, “I really can’t say if he’d be that stupid. The running out of town is exactly what I’m trying to prevent.”
    Stan peeked through her fingers. “Did I just hear you right?”
    â€œOf course you did. It’s true.”
    â€œYou must have magical powers,” Stan said to Brenna. “No way would I have gotten away with saying that.”
    â€œOh, Kristan, hush. This is no time to be fresh,” Patricia said. “I need to help Tony.”
    â€œHe didn’t make any promises, did he?” Stan asked.
    â€œNo, but this Dale was quite pushy. I overheard one of the other council members giving Tony you-know-what about the whole thing a while later. Tony didn’t appreciate it. Which makes me think he would be contrary just to prove a point.”
    â€œSo what do you need from me, Mom?”
    Her mother hesitated. “You’re so good at public relations, dear. Tony could use some . . . executive coaching. From a professional.”
    At Stan’s blank look, Patricia sighed impatiently and rapped her knuckles on the table. The sound sent Scruffy into a barking frenzy, thinking someone was at the door. “You, dear. You’re a professional. Could you help him?”
    Stan burst out laughing. “Me? You want me to coach the mayor? I’m not a leadership coach. Or a political advisor.”
    â€œNo, but this will certainly make the newspaper if he makes a rash decision. He doesn’t need negative publicity. He needs training. What do you people call it? Media training!” Patricia smiled triumphantly, like she’d just solved a particularly difficult New York Times crossword puzzle. “He needs some help. Please, Kristan? So he doesn’t get off on the wrong foot?”
    Stan resisted her natural urge to correct her mother. Falco had already gotten off on the wrong foot, at least with her. Instead, she considered her options. Running out the back door wouldn’t help. She still lived here. Denying her mother would only serve to deteriorate the relationship even more, and most likely prove the bittersweet point that this town was too small for both of them. But saying yes would be a strike against her with all the people who hated Falco. There were a lot of them. And many had pets.
    Both sets of eyes were on her, waiting for a reply. And her own pets were still waiting for dinner.
    â€œHe might not even be willing,” she began, but her mother cut her off.
    â€œI’m sure he will, dear. As a matter of fact, I’m going to ask him right now.” She jumped up, leaving her tea barely touched. “Thank you! I’ll call you with the verdict. Now, where’s my coat?”

Chapter 7
    The Frog Ledge Holler sat on the front porch when Stan got up at six the next morning. An early edition. She waited until her coffee brewed to read it, but it still didn’t make the story easier to swallow.

    Town Historian’s Death Shuts down Groundhog Day Festivities
    Tragedy Discovered as Ceremony Kicks Off
    By Cyril Pierce
    Â 
    Helga Oliver, beloved town historian and founder and executive director of the Frog Ledge Historical Museum, died Sunday after a tragic fall.
    According to witnesses at the scene, Oliver, 87, was working at the museum before the town’s annual Groundhog Day ceremony, at which she was scheduled to speak. When she failed to arrive on time for her speaking engagement, friends and organizers expressed concern. Her body was discovered shortly after at the bottom of the museum’s basement stairs.
    Oliver was pronounced dead on arrival at Thornwood Memorial Hospital.
    Oliver was a lifelong Frog Ledge resident and devoted her life to perpetuating the town’s history. She is the author of Frog Ledge: Connecticut’s Revolutionary Headquarters , a book detailing the town’s historical