Nancy Pickard Presents Malice Domestic 13 by Verena Rose

Author:Verena Rose
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, detective, crime, historical, cozy
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2018-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

MARIGOLD IN THE LAKE, by Susan Thibadeau

Destination: Long Island, New York

Is personal assistant Daisy just accident prone or has her employer’s popular blog put Mrs. Marigold Greenway and Daisy in danger?

This was my second time in the emergency room since I’d started working for Mrs. Marigold Greenway three weeks ago.

“Goodness, Daisy, you’re accident prone,” Marigold said as we waited for the doctor to come in. My swollen and bruised wrist ached so much I couldn’t answer. I tried to recount what had happened but all I remembered was pushing Marigold out of the way as a flowerpot plummeted toward her from the rooftop above. I must have used my hand to cushion us as we tumbled to the pavement. It was all such a blur.

After the doctor came in and x-rays were taken, I got the good news that it was only a sprain. Nonetheless, the doctor bandaged it and ordered up a sling. “Rest this and ice it,” she said and then looked into my eyes. “I don’t want to see you back here again.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll make sure she’s more careful,” Andrew, Marigold’s son, said from the doorway. The doctor turned and even though I couldn’t see, I knew she was smiling at him, maybe even blushing. He’d had that effect on every woman I’d seen him with, myself included.

At the moment I was worried I’d lose my job. What good was a personal assistant with a knee brace and an arm in a sling? I jumped up from the table to show how nimble I still was. Unfortunately, the weight on my knee, badly scraped and sporting a few stitches due to a run-in with a runaway cart, left me breathless with pain.

“Hold on,” Andrew said, maneuvering around the doctor to get to me.

He was too late, though, because Marigold was already by my side, patting my shoulder. “Daisy, Daisy, you have to go slowly. Heaven knows if you hadn’t been so fast last week you wouldn’t have stepped in front of that loading dock cart.”

I was in too much pain to manage anything but an “Uh huh.”

Andrew regarded me in silence, as if considering a weighty issue. I feared he was trying to come up with a way to tell me I was fired. Instead, he turned to Marigold. “Mother, maybe it’s time for you to work on that story you hinted at in your blog last month.”

Despite Marigold Greenway’s being almost sixty-seven, her online blog was the toast of New York City’s young, hip crowd (as she called them). She’d typically post once a week and her fans eagerly awaited the tell-all gossip Marigold effortlessly acquired. But every once in a while she’d post a brilliant and fully formed news story.

“About Tim’s murder?” Marigold asked.

“Yes.” Andrew smiled at me. “Maybe you should go on location. A little time for both of you on Long Island might give Ms. Fields a chance to heal.”

Through the haze of pain, I felt a blush coming on and

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