The Prince and I: A Romantic Mystery (The Royal Biography Cozy Mystery Series Book 1) by Julie Sarff, The Hope Diamond, The Heir to Villa Buschi Read Free Book Online Page A
a small night table, a hot plate, a sink and a tiny refrigerator there is no furniture in my apartment.
Emmeline heads for the refrigerator and plunks down. She is shorter than me and weighs about twice as much. I fear for my fridge. It makes a strange humming sound, as if it is frightened.
“As you know, Schnellings is paying me to represent you. That is, unless you are officially arrested, in which case you are on your own, and you will need the best criminal attorney you can afford.”
I shift back and forth uncomfortably on slippered feet.
“Anyway, I was contacted by Mr. McKenzie’s lawyer. He left a message for you at Schnellings an d — ”
“And?”
“And in his will Mr. McKenzie left you everything, all his personal possessions.”
I groan. So Sean was so hot and bothered with Tatum that he never remembered to change his will? I did. First thing after he was gone, I named my parent’s the beneficiaries of all my worldly possessions. Sadly they are all contained in this very room.
“His files and his computer have been removed by the NYPD, but his lawyer says there are a lot of clothes at the apartment he shares with Ms. Bouviers. The lawyer wants to know what you want done with them.”
“Leave them at Tatum’s…”
“That’s another thing I want to talk to you about. Ms. Bouviers has been taken into police custody.”
“What?”
“She’s been arrested, as of very late yesterday evening.”
“Arrested for what?”
“Murdering Sean.”
I stop shifting from side to side, surely I haven’t heard correctly.
“Why on earth would they suspect her?”
“From what I’ve learned, their next door neighbor reported that Mr. McKenzie and Ms. Bouviers fought a lot.”
That’s ridiculous. Sean doesn’t fight. Sean studies. Sean researches. Sean writes. He doesn’t fight. He was, perhaps, the most mild-mannered person I ever met.
“A friend of mine who’s a private detective talked to Ms. Bouviers’ neighbor this morning. The man said he heard Ms. Bouviers threaten Sean on the night he died. According to the neighbor, she threatened to kill him.”
I shake my head. “Tatum’s always been prone to histrionics. In the last five years, she’s gotten in so many confrontations, she’s probably told half the eastern seaboard she’d like to kill them.”
“She sounds charming,” Emmeline says.
“Men seem to think so,” I reply. And it’s true. In high school she was the cheer leader. The one that stood at the top of the pile. Honestly, the other eleven girls on the squad barely mattered. Yet, for some reason, she and I were best friends. Maybe it was because I was the only one who could put up with so much drama in one tiny package. And since I wasn’t a threat to her when it came to boys, maybe that’s why she confided in me. I was the history nerd. While Tatum was living for afterschool practices and football games, I penned a 50,000 word paper on Ashurbanipal. My teacher gave me an F for “being overly wordy.”
After high school, we both went to the same university. An entire contingent of boys from our high school followed, hoping that at some point, Tatum might look their way. Occasionally they would break down and corner me in the dorm, telling me that if they couldn’t be with Tatum, they didn’t know what they were going to do.
“Steady on!” I would yell in their faces, because I was a British history major. For some reason these words sound so odd to the American ear that I found they had the effect of rendering Tatum’s suitors immediately sober.
Thanks to all the college classes I took while in high school, I graduated with my bachelor degrees in two years and moved far away. It was at Cornell, where I was studying for my master’s degree, that I met Sean. We moved on together to Smith, and after we obtained our doctorates, we were both hired at Schnellings. We made a pittance, ate Raman noodles every night from a cup, lived in an apartment only slightly
Emmeline heads for the refrigerator and plunks down. She is shorter than me and weighs about twice as much. I fear for my fridge. It makes a strange humming sound, as if it is frightened.
“As you know, Schnellings is paying me to represent you. That is, unless you are officially arrested, in which case you are on your own, and you will need the best criminal attorney you can afford.”
I shift back and forth uncomfortably on slippered feet.
“Anyway, I was contacted by Mr. McKenzie’s lawyer. He left a message for you at Schnellings an d — ”
“And?”
“And in his will Mr. McKenzie left you everything, all his personal possessions.”
I groan. So Sean was so hot and bothered with Tatum that he never remembered to change his will? I did. First thing after he was gone, I named my parent’s the beneficiaries of all my worldly possessions. Sadly they are all contained in this very room.
“His files and his computer have been removed by the NYPD, but his lawyer says there are a lot of clothes at the apartment he shares with Ms. Bouviers. The lawyer wants to know what you want done with them.”
“Leave them at Tatum’s…”
“That’s another thing I want to talk to you about. Ms. Bouviers has been taken into police custody.”
“What?”
“She’s been arrested, as of very late yesterday evening.”
“Arrested for what?”
“Murdering Sean.”
I stop shifting from side to side, surely I haven’t heard correctly.
“Why on earth would they suspect her?”
“From what I’ve learned, their next door neighbor reported that Mr. McKenzie and Ms. Bouviers fought a lot.”
That’s ridiculous. Sean doesn’t fight. Sean studies. Sean researches. Sean writes. He doesn’t fight. He was, perhaps, the most mild-mannered person I ever met.
“A friend of mine who’s a private detective talked to Ms. Bouviers’ neighbor this morning. The man said he heard Ms. Bouviers threaten Sean on the night he died. According to the neighbor, she threatened to kill him.”
I shake my head. “Tatum’s always been prone to histrionics. In the last five years, she’s gotten in so many confrontations, she’s probably told half the eastern seaboard she’d like to kill them.”
“She sounds charming,” Emmeline says.
“Men seem to think so,” I reply. And it’s true. In high school she was the cheer leader. The one that stood at the top of the pile. Honestly, the other eleven girls on the squad barely mattered. Yet, for some reason, she and I were best friends. Maybe it was because I was the only one who could put up with so much drama in one tiny package. And since I wasn’t a threat to her when it came to boys, maybe that’s why she confided in me. I was the history nerd. While Tatum was living for afterschool practices and football games, I penned a 50,000 word paper on Ashurbanipal. My teacher gave me an F for “being overly wordy.”
After high school, we both went to the same university. An entire contingent of boys from our high school followed, hoping that at some point, Tatum might look their way. Occasionally they would break down and corner me in the dorm, telling me that if they couldn’t be with Tatum, they didn’t know what they were going to do.
“Steady on!” I would yell in their faces, because I was a British history major. For some reason these words sound so odd to the American ear that I found they had the effect of rendering Tatum’s suitors immediately sober.
Thanks to all the college classes I took while in high school, I graduated with my bachelor degrees in two years and moved far away. It was at Cornell, where I was studying for my master’s degree, that I met Sean. We moved on together to Smith, and after we obtained our doctorates, we were both hired at Schnellings. We made a pittance, ate Raman noodles every night from a cup, lived in an apartment only slightly
Similar Books
My Texas Sweetheart (book one)
Pauliena Acheson
Charmed by His Love
Janet Chapman
Cheri Red (sWet)
Charisma Knight
Through the Fire
Donna Hill
The Hen of the Baskervilles
Donna Andrews
Can't Shake You
Molly McLain
A Cast of Vultures
Judith Flanders
Wings of Lomay
Devri Walls
Five Parts Dead
Tim Pegler
Angel Stations
Gary Gibson