The Housewife Assassin's Handbook (Housewife Assassin Series, Book 1) by Josie Brown

Author:Josie Brown [Brown, Josie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, cozy, Women Sleuths, Romance, Contemporary, romantic comedy, Romantic Suspense, Mystery & Suspense, Suspense
ISBN: 194205209X
Amazon: B0050PJZLK
Publisher: Signal Press
Published: 2011-05-13T00:00:00+00:00

“I’ve been dying to meet you, too,” murmurs Midge Kelsey.

“I guess Rave-On gives us a wonderful excuse to get to know each other.” I’m grinning so widely that I’m sure I look like a lunatic. “Mind if I come in?”

“Not at all!” Midge opens the door wide.

The Kelseys’ home is done up in shades of beige and beiger. There are just a few pictures scattered around: of just her and Dave, a burly guy, balding, and a gap-tooth smile.

Strange. Particularly if, as Patty insisted, they have a teenage boy.

I perch on the Ethan Allen divan while Midge saunters into the kitchen for a pitcher of ice tea, and according to her, “the best chocolate cake you’ll ever put in your mouth.”

I’m tempted to ask her for a vodka martini instead. She’s my sixth house call today. Thus far the Badgley’s poodle has humped my leg, I broke up a fight between the Mortons, and the Callahans’ sick toddler sneezed in my face while I was cooing at him.

Yes, they can all be eliminated as suspects.

No, they had nothing to divulge that sounded suspicious about their neighbors on our hot list.

To top it off, I’ve only made nineteen dollars in commission. Maybe I should get an ice cream truck instead.

I’m still contemplating the long-term repercussions that career move may have on my figure when I realize Midge has complimented Jack, “—a marvelous golfer! Dave met him just the other day. You two make such a cute couple. How did you meet?”

The question throws me for a loop. In my mind, I still can’t reconcile Jack in the role of Carl.

No, he will never be Carl. No one can.

“We met in my last year of college.” I can hear my voice shake. “It was love at first sight.” I steady my voice before adding, “Three children later, and we’re still here, so I guess it’s a match made in heaven.” Or something. A Black Ops manual, perhaps. “How about you?”

“We met in school, too.”

“You have a son, don’t you?”

Midge falters just a bit. “Yes.”

She cuts the cake, but says nothing else.

That’s it?

Her way of changing the subject is to point to my hatbox. “My, how pretty! What goodies have you brought with you?”

I take the hint, and go through my spiel. After ten minutes of oohing and ahhing over my samples, she buys a trove of them: sixty dollars, in fact.

It is her way of getting rid of me.

I’m about to offer her the bugged sample when her husband, Dave, opens the front door. He’s a large, balding man with sad dark eyes. He gives my hand a vigorous pumping, but in a serious voice, says to Midge, “Honey, if we want to get to the cemetery before the afternoon rush hour, we better leave now.”

She murmurs goodbye to me and leaves the room.

As I stare after her, he whispers, “To visit our son. He died last year, in a car wreck.”

Well, that explains her behavior.

I can’t blame her for lying to Patty.

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