Murder on a Starry Night: A Queen Bees Quilt Mystery by Sally Goldenbaum

Author:Sally Goldenbaum [Goldenbaum, Sally]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 2940012817167
Publisher: Kansas City Star Books
Published: 2005-08-21T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

Po and Leah watched the long car taking the corner fast enough to scatter leaves in all directions.

“What do you suppose that’s about?” Leah asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad Tom’s wife had the good sense to remind him that she was waiting in the car.”

“Did Adele see him, do you think?” Po shifted her purse on her shoulder, and she and Leah began walking down the street toward Gus Schuette’s bookstore. “And I wonder what she was doing at Max’s office on a Sunday morning?”

“With all that’s going on at her home, she may have needed some legal advice.”

Po had had the same thought, and dear Max would meet someone in need in the middle of the night if they asked. She glanced over at the small brick building that housed his office and noticed his car was gone. He’d clearly come in just to solve Adele’s problem, whatever that might have been. She’d see him later that day—Max hadn’t missed a Sunday dinner at the Paltrow home in nearly a year—and she wondered if he’d bring this up. Probably not. Max was a paradigm of discretion, one of the many things Po was coming to appreciate—and to love—about him.

Leah and Po reached Gus’s bookstore and walked into the shadowy haven. Gus had modeled the store after an old bookstore he visited in London—hardwood floors, paintings placed on available wall space, and lots of small rooms crammed with shelves and library ladders and overstuffed chairs begging to be used. Po loved it here, and the owner, too. Gus and his wife Rita had been in her life longer than she could remember. Sam used to tell Gus that he and Po had single handedly paid for the Schuette kids’ education with the money spent in the store.

Today Gus sat on a chair behind the wooden checkout counter, his head lowered over a book, his glasses hovering low on a wide, misshapen nose. He looked up and stood as the entrance bell pinged. His face broke into a grin. “My Sunday ladies are here at last. Let the day begin.” He set his book on the counter and automatically reached beneath the counter for two reserved copies of the Sunday New York Times. “I could set my clock by you two,” he said, handing them the thick newspapers.

“You say that every single Sunday, Gus,” Po said.

Gus laughed. “What would we do without our rituals, Po?”

Po smiled. The familiarity of routines and dear people were what Crestwood was all about. Perhaps that was true of small towns everywhere. But this Sunday morning routine was one of her favorites. She and Leah had started it years ago, when Leah was a brand new professor at Canterbury College. Sam Paltrow soon discovered his new employee’s husband loved Sunday morning golf as much as he did. So while Sam and Tim swung clubs, Po and Leah, the sixteen years between them melting away in a flash of an eye, began their Sunday morning

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