Happy Birthday to Me (Jewel of the Sea Mysteries Book 1) by Mary Bowers

Author:Mary Bowers [Bowers, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-28T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20 – Fireworks

Brett Barton was in and out of Betty’s condo within fifteen minutes. During that time, he managed to convey the autopsy results, encourage his client to be of good heart, consume a cup of coffee and three cookies and get Betty to sign several checks. Torrie was sure he was being paid for every minute of his time, including mileage to and from Jewel of the Sea, so she wondered why he was in such a hurry. The appointment he mentioned wasn’t until two, and it was still mid-morning.

Still, she was happy to have him go, and as soon as he left, time seemed to slow down again.

After seeing him out, she and Betty went back to the breakfast table in the little nook overlooking the ocean, sat down and smiled at one another.

“Happy?” Torrie asked her.

“Very. I don’t know what I was getting myself so worked up about. Now I can relax, leave the journal for another time and read some of the fiction she was working on.”

“She was writing again?”

“Well, I don’t know about again, but there are a few incomplete novels on her computer. Some of them are only a few pages long, but there’s one that’s nearly a hundred pages, and I’m looking forward to that one.”

“I don’t know if you should read it,” Torrie warned. “Did you ever read Dickens’s Mystery of Edwin Drood?”

Betty shook her head.

“I did, and what a mistake that was. It was his last novel and he didn’t live to finish it, which for some reason I didn’t know at the time. I never read those long-winded Forwards they put in the classics. Anyway, it’s a murder mystery, and just when you’re really wound up and dying to know what happened – it’s over. Dickens died. And you can’t tell from the notes he left how he intended to end it. Several authors have tried to complete it, but it’s just not Dickens. We’re never going to know how it ends, and up to the last word he wrote, it is soooo good.”

“Well, this mystery is over, thank God. Mrs. Granville died a natural death, and I can’t tell you how relieved I am. Because if somebody had killed her,” she added, “I would have been honor-bound to investigate.”

“Nobody would have wanted to kill Alice, Betty. There was just no reason, so I’m glad you can stop thinking about it now.”

Like Doom arriving on Betty’s doorstep, a hollow banging suddenly began. It penetrated, like something throbbing in the very bones of the building.

Torrie and Betty looked toward the foyer, then stared at one another, as shocked as if Alice Granville’s own voice had suddenly filled the condo.

Then the doorbell began to ring.

“It must be Jane,” Torrie said. “When she comes to the door, she rings and bangs at the same time, especially if she’s worked up. I wonder what could be biting her now?”

“I’ll go get it.”

“No, stop,” Torrie said, standing up beside Betty and restraining her by the arm.

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