Murder at the Art Class (Emily Stone Book 1) by Nic Saint

Author:Nic Saint [Saint, Nic]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Puss in Print Publications
Published: 2019-01-22T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

“Why didn’t you stop her, Ansel?” said Mom, placing a lamb chop on his plate.

“I didn’t know it was my job to stop Emily from doing what she wants to do,” said Ansel delicately, before attacking his lamb chop with a lot less tact.

“I wouldn’t let you, either,” added Emily, helping herself to a nice little pile of spring potatoes. Her mother’s secret was real butter and fresh chives and they were to die for. Well, not literally, of course.

“Oh, I do wish you would say something, Jeff,” said Mom, addressing her husband, who was tucking away his food with customary relish.

“Mh?” Dad said, looking up distractedly.

“About the murder! Your daughter has managed to get herself mixed up in some extremely unsavory business and you’re just going to sit there and pretend everything is hunky-dory? It’s murder, Jeff. Murder, she’s dealing with! Horrible, terrible murder.”

If her mother was going to say the word ‘murder’ one more time Emily was going to scream. Instead, she said, “I’m not all that involved, Mom. All I promised Taryn was that I would talk to Jan’s colleagues—maybe find out a few things about her brother.”

“Who’s Taryn?” asked Dad, having decided he’d better show an active interest in the topic under discussion or else Mom might decide he wasn’t getting any dessert this evening.

“Pay attention, Jeff,” Mom said. “Taryn is the dead boy’s sister. She’s the one who got our daughter mixed up in this dreadful business.” She turned to Emily with a tortured look on her face. “Please tell me you’ll be careful, darling. You are dealing with an assassination mob, you know.”

“I think the correct term is assassination squad, Mrs. Stone,” Ansel supplied helpfully.

“Oh, I’ve read all about it,” said Mom. “The Skriprocks and the Kandinskys and how they’ve been feuding for decades and now they’ve resorted to these gruesome tactics. It’s the Capulets and the Montagues all over again, isn’t it? All I can say is they shouldn’t have brought their little war to this country. If they want to kill each other, that’s their business, but they should do it over there.”

“It’s the Skrzypczaks and the Kanczuzewskis,” said Emily. It was hard enough to keep track of the people involved in this case without her mother muddling things up even more.

“Who cares!” Mom cried. “These assassination mobs don’t care about one murder more or less,” she added, pressing her point. “If you get in their way they’ll whack you, too.”

“Whack me?” said Emily with a laugh.

“Isn’t that the correct term? Well excuse me if I’m not au courant with the mob scene! Jeff!”

“Mh?” said Dad, having just popped another spring potato into his mouth.

“Say something!”

Dad gulped down his potato, then said, “Say what, my precious?”

“Tell your daughter she shouldn’t get involved with murder!”

Dad turned to Emily. “Don’t murder people, Em. It’s not nice.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Mom said.

“So have you identified any suspects yet?” asked Dad, whose interest had finally been piqued. “Figured out whodunit?”

“We have some very promising leads, and several very good suspects,” said Ansel.

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