Madness in Brewster Square by Narielle Living

Author:Narielle Living [Living, Narielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mainly Murder Press
Published: 2014-11-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

That was terrible. Missing for five years? A number of images flashed through my mind, none of them good.

“I’m sorry,” I said, not sure if there was anything else I could possibly say. But by the time “sorry” was out of my mouth, Oliver was out the door. He didn’t even finish his drink.

“Now do you know what I meant when I said it was his story?” Stanley said.

I nodded, but I still didn’t really understand. What happened? Why? Did this happen in Arizona or somewhere else?

I knew her disappearance was the only piece of information I was going to get that night, and I’d have to settle for knowing that much.

“Maybe we should invite him over for dinner,” I said. Had they been deeply in love or already on the brink of divorce?

“Maybe we should let the detective live his life without any interference from us,” Stanley said. “I know you mean well, but that’s an intensely personal period in the man’s life. Let’s not go poking into a raw wound.”

“How do you know it’s a raw wound?” I said.

The expression on Stanley’s face spoke volumes. I’d asked enough questions, and the flow of information stopped here.

“Okay,” I conceded. “I don’t have to know all the details, but it’s a sad story, and that makes me want to give the guy some food.”

“There are some things food won’t solve,” Stanley said, “but I like that you want to help others. The thing is, not everyone wants to be helped.”

My purse started making a light, ethereal noise, almost like wind chimes. Digging through the mess of receipts and debris stored in there, I managed to find my cell phone and pull it out.

“It’s my brother,” I told Stanley.

“You should answer that, it might be important,” he said.

Putting the phone to my ear, I said, “I hope this is important.”

“It is,” my brother reassured me. “Are you with the mayor?”

“Yes, we’re on a date.” I smiled at Stanley.

“Good, bring him with you.”

“What? No. Now? Bring him where?” My brother’s sense of drama always had poor timing.

“I’ve planned our next move in finding Ethel’s killer,” Giuseppe said. “I need to tell you both what we’re going to do.”

It was never a good sign when Giuseppe used the word “we.”

“He wants to tell us how we are going to capture Ethel’s killer,” I said to Stanley, who was looking at me with an amused expression.

“Let’s go,” Stanley said. “Sounds like something we need to hear, doesn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with Stanley, but I felt like I had no choice. “We’ll be there soon,” I said into the phone, hoping my brother realized I was annoyed with him. Couldn’t this have waited at least until tomorrow? How was I supposed to have a proper date with both the detective and Giuseppe interrupting?

“Remember not to tell your brother where we were when he called,” Stanley said.

Crap, I’d forgotten all about that. “You’re right,” I said. “He’ll be upset, but he won’t yell or anything.

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