A Premonition of Murder Read Free

the room looked fresh and inviting.
    I’d brewed a pot of sweet tea—another Savannah staple, I’d discovered—and placed the enameled drink tray on an old wicker chest Ali had found in a thrift store. She’d spray-painted it white, and it made a lovely coffee table.
    â€œHow much do you know about Abigail?” I asked Minerva as she reached for a piece of shortbread. I’d quickly pulled a package of homemade Scottish shortbread cookies out of the freezer and defrosted them in the microwave.
    â€œProbably more than most people, but it isn’t very much.”
    â€œWhat we know about Abigail would fit into a thimble,”Rose added. “She’s very selective in what she shares with people. Most of our contact with her over the years has been about the Magnolia Society, and now that we have e-mail, we usually communicate that way. Rarely by phone or in person. I was surprised that she opened her home to a stranger for the summer. That was completely out of character.”
    â€œA stranger?” Ali asked.
    â€œA young man from the university, a graduate student, I believe. His name is Angus Morton, and she hired him to catalog everything at Beaux Reves. I suppose she thought it was time to get her affairs in order, and this would be a good place to start.”
    â€œShe didn’t say much about the Society,” I said thoughtfully. “It’s a philanthropic group, isn’t it?”
    â€œOh my, yes,” Minerva said, “it’s a nonprofit. Abigail is absolutely devoted to the idea of preserving all that is good in Savannah: our parks, our monuments, our historic places. Rose and I are on the outer edges of the group; we help with mailings, contacting city councilmen, that sort of thing. There are only a handful of the original founders left, and Abigail is one of them. They set the policies and the agenda on how the organization should move forward.”
    â€œIt sounds almost like a secret society, “Ali offered. She plopped down on the sofa and scooped Barney into her lap. Barney and Scout are two highly pampered cats who rule the roost. They’re both rescues, and Ali adopted them as kittens from a no-kill shelter. They adore Ali, and they seem to know that she pulled them from a cage into a wonderful life.
    When I first moved in with Ali, there was a period of adjustment, but I won them over with tuna fish packed in water and organic cat treats. The way to a cat’s heart is through his stomach, as Ali always says. Barney curled against her,purring contentedly. Scout was snoozing on the windowsill, one of her favorite spots.
    â€œA secret society? Oh, it’s nothing that mysterious, my dear,” Minerva said. She paused. “I don’t mean to sound morbid, but I always did wonder what would happen to the Society and to Beaux Reves if Abigail passed away.”
    â€œBeaux Reves is a magnificent place,” I said, wishing we could have taken a peek inside.
    Rose nodded. “That it is. We stopped by once to drop off a Christmas gift for Abigail and made it as far as the front parlor. It looked like a room in a museum! Beautiful Oriental rugs, an enormous chandelier she had imported from Paris, Impressionist paintings—”
    â€œI’m positive I spotted a Monet,” Minerva interjected. “It was a field of lilies, with a pale blue sky. It was lovely.”
    â€œYou don’t suppose it was a copy?” Ali asked.
    â€œNever!” Rose gave a delicate snort. “Abigail believes in buying the best or buying nothing at all. That’s one of her favorite sayings.”
    â€œYou were telling us you wondered what would happen to the house,” I gently reminded Minerva. Sometimes Rose and Minerva have trouble staying on track.
    â€œOh yes, the house, sorry,” Minerva said with a little flutter of her hands. “It would cost a small fortune to keep it up, I suppose, but I wonder if Abigail has