Murder in the Marigolds by Dale Mayer (good books to read for 12 year olds txt) 📗

He turned to look at her with an incredulous expression. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” she said. He snorted at that. “Hey,” she said, “it’s very important. My friends I keep close, even if they’re feathered.”

“Wow,” he said, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“And be nice to the dog and cat too, while you’re at it.”

“Well, Mugs of course,” he said, bending down to scratch the basset hound behind the ear. “Although he definitely needs a bath.” He looked at his fingers and made a grimace. “I mean, he is deadly dirty.” He got up, came over to the kitchen sink, and scrubbed his fingers.

“Time to take him to the river then,” she said cheerfully. Mathew stared down at Mugs and looked at her again. She shrugged. “He loves to go in there.”

“The water is dirty,” he said, as if explaining something simple to a child. “You can’t just take a dirty dog and put him in a dirty river and expect him to come out clean.”

“Well, I do actually,” she said. “Quite a decent amount of fresh water flows in there. And, if I can keep him out of the mud afterward, he is amazingly fresh-smelling.”

“Oh, my God,” he said. He looked at the coffee she was making. “I’m surprised you even know how to make a pot of coffee.”

“I’ve learned a lot of things in the last few months,” she said, steadily refusing to get riled by him. He’d been very good at making her feel like she had absolutely no value and had completely demeaned her in public. It had been her ability to smile and to carry on that had won her the most respect, but, behind her back, everybody had laughed at her. It was only later when she found out that his behavior was not all that unusual among the rich and wealthy set.

She reached into the cupboard, pulled out a cup, poured him some coffee, and handed it to him. “There you go,” she said. “Fresh coffee.”

He took it gingerly, as if not sure that it was drinkable. “Do you have any milk or sugar?”

“I have a little bit of milk and sugar,” she said, bringing out the bag of sugar and the milk jug. He looked at it, then at her. She said, “Sorry, no fancy coffee service set here.”

“Wow,” he muttered under his breath, as he liberally added two heaped spoons of sugar to his coffee.

“Wow,” she said, “I don’t remember you taking it that sweet before.”

“Yes, but, at home, it’s always served to me, as I like it.”

She nodded without saying anything, then pushed open the back door and stepped out. “You want to sit out here?”

He stepped out with her.

She immediately took up her favorite spot on the steps, leaning back against the railing. “I know it’s not much yet,” she said, “but I’ve done a ton of work back here.”

“It doesn’t look it,” he said. “Weeds are everywhere.”

She remembered how utterly offended he was by weeds. The gardeners had to go over the pathways and sidewalks all the time to make sure it was 100 percent clean. “You know what? I’m happy to get along with nature instead of go against her,” she said, with a smile. “I need to get back out here and take care of a bunch more, but you can see how far down I got.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious,” he said, pointing to the distinctive line where different levels of weeding had clearly occurred. “Also, it looks like you haven’t worked on it for weeks.”

“Probably not,” she said. She reached out and rubbed her shoulder, wincing at how it twinged every once in a while, almost like a warning. “But I’ll get there eventually.”

He nodded, took a sip of coffee, and winced. He took another sip, shuddered, and put it down on the deck.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she said cheerfully, taking a hefty swig of her own. She smiled as the extra caffeine hit her nerves and upped the wattage of her view of the world. “Hard to get started in the morning without it.”

“That’s like thick sludge for fuel,” he said. “Remember? I drive a luxury car and only get premium.”

“No premium around here,” she said, hating the smugness in his voice.

He stood and said, “Well, I gave you back the USB key. If you can think of nothing else?”

She immediately shook her head. “Outside of her having talked with somebody on the property, like one of your security guys or something,” she said, with a shrug, “I have no idea what she might have done with it.”

“Well, I’ll check my staff, but I pay them very well to be loyal.”

“Yeah,” she said, “but don’t forget she had special equipment, and, while you were taking advantage and enjoying yourself, it doesn’t mean somebody else wasn’t too.”

He stared at her, a shadow darkening his features, as he turned his gaze toward the river. “She sure as hell better not have.”

“The only way to find out would be to check with your staff,” she said.

He nodded. “Well, I will hit the police station this morning to ensure they need nothing more,” he muttered, “and then I’m heading out.”

“Good,” she said, “it was nice to see you.”

He looked at her, startled momentarily, and then smiled. “You’re the only woman I know who doesn’t bear a grudge. Always smiling, always happy,” he said. “For the longest time, I hated it. Now I realize how soothing it is to my nerves.”

“Well, too bad,” she replied. “Like you said, you wanted that hint of lemon, and you got it.”

“Yeah, and now she is dead, and that was before I got a hold of her.” He shook his head. “I’d like to find the guy who offed her.”

“I’m sure the cops would too,” she said, “so if you have any idea …”

He shook his head. “Nope, I have no idea. But I wish I did.” With that, he smiled at her and said, “Until we meet again.” Then he strode