The Beatrix Patterson Mysteries Boxed Set Books 1-3 by Eva Shaw

Author:Eva Shaw
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Domestic terrorism;Suspense;Government conspiracies;Nazis;Psychics;Seers;World War II;Asian racism in WWII;New Orleans
Publisher: Light Messages Publishing
Published: 2021-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Arriving back at the house, Mrs. Turney waved from her herb garden and invited Thomas, oh yes, and Beatrix for tea, but they both politely declined. “Another time, Doctor? Later today? I’ve created a blend of herbs for tea that you’ll just fall in love with.”

“You are so kind, but I’m behind on my carpentry jobs right now, Mrs. Turney. Thank you. Perhaps later, as usual?”

Beatrix waved and dashed inside on Thomas’s heels. “That herbal tea is probably a home-grown aphrodisiac so she can seduce you. It’s never smart to underestimate a woman of a certain age and I can tell, Thomas, she wants you. Bad. I’ve known women like that, my darling, so my advice is to not put your guard down.”

“Stop teasing. She’s a bit odd, sad, I believe. I think she’s charming and probably lonely for her husband, I’m sure. The stories of the old days in Santa Barbara around the 1920s are amazing. She seems to know everything about the city and everyone, as well.”

“I bet she does know all the gossip in the neighborhood.”

“I don’t know about that as she mostly talks about her late husband, gardening, and the charities and organizations she’s involved with. Complains a bit about the husky workers who help with the heavy garden, but in a genteel way,” he said. “Reminds me a bit of my aunties, always baking little treats and drinking copious amounts of tea.” He slipped his arms around Beatrix’s waist, and pulled her in for a kiss. “Now you go break and enter and I’ll try to shore up the front porch if our workers will tell me how. We’re going to enjoy it there, in our dotage, with white rocking chairs and a good book, watching the world go by.”

Beatrix raised her eyebrows. She pictured the future, running after children, driving the kids to sports and clubs and swimming in the Pacific, enjoying careers in whatever capacity that may be, and traveling, not rocking as their muscles atrophied. Still, she smiled as she sat down in the chair next to the big black telephone and dialed Frankie Ramsey’s hotel. It took a few moments to get the guest to the phone as the only telephone was in the lobby.

“Beatrix, thanks for catching up with me. I have been thinking of what to do about my father. The coroner insists that I make plans and they’ve given me forty-eight -hours to direct them, or they’ll bury Morty in the county’s potter’s field, a charity graveyard at the mission.”

“Would that be a bad thing, Frankie? You don’t have a family plot or anything like that in New Orleans, do you?”

“Mom is buried behind the church in her hometown of Thibodaux, in Cajun country. It’d be wrong for him to join her there since he was such a crappy husband.” Frankie’s voice cracked as if he were crying, but why? “At least that was my observation on their relationship. Yet, she stayed with him, until her mental abilities took her away.

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