Dial Marr for Murder by Karen Cantwell

Author:Karen Cantwell [Cantwell, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cozy Mystery
Goodreads: 35792807
Publisher: Author
Published: 2017-07-21T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

At home in bed, I downed two aspirin while watching a Meryl Streep interview on Entertainment This Day. They showed footage of her holding my hand while EMTs lifted my gurney into the ambulance. All the while, I was shaking Callie’s shark head slippers and hollering, “Code red, Meryl Streep! Code red!”

I wanted to curl up and die. I had finally met Meryl Streep—not just Dream Meryl, but the actual, living, breathing Meryl Streep—and now it seemed like a dream because I had been running a hundred and five degree temperature. I take that back. It felt like a nightmare.

Peggy and Roz, finally back to normal, showed up with soup and sympathy. I clicked off the television set, disgusted with myself. “I need Moyle here to twist me back in time so I can reverse that debacle.”

“What are you talking about?” Peggy asked. “You’re the most famous person I know now. Everyone thinks it is so cool that you are my friend. First you scold Vinnie VanGo on national television and now Meryl Streep has rescued you.” She set a tray on the bed with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle. “Here’s soup.” She crossed her arms, looking pleased. “I’m just so proud of you.”

“Thanks.” The soup smelled good, although I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to manage. “Was Guy’s interview broadcast nationally?”

Roz lifted an eyebrow. “More like globally. You didn’t hear about the tweeting firestorm? His mother, ‘At VinniesMama’, laid into him. She told him publicly that he’d better apologize to you or else.”

I blew my nose and threw the tissue into a trashcan beside my bed. “An apology would be nice, but I’d rather he just unpublished the song.” I reached for the spoon. “Can you guys stay and keep me company for a while?”

“Sure, I can stay for a little while.” Peggy sat on the edge of my bed and Roz took up residence on the bench at the foot.

Roz checked her watch. “I can stick around a few minutes. How are you feeling today?

“Better. My temperature still hovers around a hundred and I ache all over, but far better than two days ago.” I slurped soup, then rested my spoon in the bowl so I could grab another tissue for my drippy nose.

“It’s a nasty flu,” Peggy said. “I’m still dragging.”

Roz nodded. “Me too. Man, you were one busy woman while we were sick. What the heck happened?”

“Murder. Mayhem. You know, the usual,” I said.

“So, it wasn’t a dream that Howard issued a Code Yellow?” Roz asked.

I shook my head and began my story. “It all started when I found Pickle by the Nature Center pond, resting in an Adirondack chair, a knife in his chest.” I recounted the resulting murder investigation, the return of Moyle, Sharon Forrest’s ‘that Barbara Marr’ comment perpetuated nationally by Guy Mertz’s tweet, my experiences with Purple Rain Man and fears that Viviana Buttaro was back to do me in. “And now,” I said, ending the gruesome tale, “Nature Center volunteers are vanishing like ghosts.

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