Murder on Stilettos by P. J. Conn

Author:P. J. Conn [Conn, P. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2018-10-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Saturday night, Joe and Mary Margaret drove downtown to Clifton's Cafeteria on Broadway. It was a popular place with a forest décor that included a waterfall and stream. It was as close as Joe cared to go to camping out. They were both in the mood for macaroni and cheese, and savored every gooey bite.

"I can't tell you how much I look forward to spending weekends with you," she exclaimed. "Often we're so busy with our patients, we don't have more than a few minutes to gulp down lunch. I should eat more for breakfast."

"Bacon and eggs are among the few things I know how to prepare. Or, I can pour cereal into a bowl with the best of them."

She paused for a bite of lime Jello. "We're going to have so much fun together, Joe, it could be difficult to remember to go to work."

They might swiftly starve to death if she quit her job, but he was too happy to be marrying her to risk discussing money, or the lack thereof. It was probably one of the difficult subjects couples needed to discuss, but later.

After dinner, they were going to Thalia Dupré's latest movie, Lavender Lace, a Cinderella story where the pretty seamstress designing dresses for the ball lacks the time to create her own. He was confident a spectacular gown would be found in the nick of time, and the prince would surely fall in love with her. Mary Margaret would love the romantic story, but he was looking forward to Orchid Lane, a film with a sea captain and schooner he could relate to. He would save the autographed photo Thalia Dupré had sent him until a time he really needed to impress Mary Margaret.

* * *

Monday morning, he was busy sharpening pencils when the telephone rang. "Discreet Investigations."

"Mr. Ezell?"

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"We met last week at Constance Remson's tea. My name's Karen. I doubt you remember me."

"Of course I remember you. You were worried other members of the Philharmonic might be in danger."

"Yes, and I still do. Can you meet me in Plummer Park at ten o'clock this morning? I take my son there whenever I can."

"I'll be there." He found her by the swings with soft bucket seats for babies. Her chubby one-year-old son was giggling with every push. "What a handsome boy!" he called to her.

"Thank you. Kevin is so good-natured I can take him anywhere, and we'll both have a good time."

There were other mothers with small children gathered around the sandbox. But they were the only ones at the swings. He checked over his shoulder, but no one was close enough to overhear their conversation.

"I expect you had a good reason to call."

"I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure." She was a slender young woman with curly dark hair and brown eyes. She'd bundled up her son, and worn a sweater over her cotton dress to ward off the slight chill in the morning air.

"Let me decide.

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