Death among the Roses: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Read Free Page B

my poor, dear Gary will remain locked in the cold ground without any future at all.” The tears came. They slid down her cheeks unchecked.
    “My dear,” I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her shaking shoulders, “you’re never going to forget Gary. No matter what the future brings, you’ll carry his memory close to your heart all your life.”
    Cordelia wiped her tears and nodded. “I’ll never, never forget him,” she vowed.
    “I know that.” I touched her arm. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. Then, we’ll send those pills down your throat. It's what Gary would want. We can talk more about all this tomorrow. For now, you need rest.”
     
    ***
     
    When I finally reached home that night it was nearly six o’clock. Dad was preparing dinner. He stood at the island counter in his recently remodeled kitchen. Taffy, his cocker spaniel, had planted herself by his feet. The room’s walls were white, the windows large, the cabinets plentiful. His beloved copper pots and pans dangled from an overhead rack.
    The room stood in glaring contrast to the home’s overwhelmingly traditional exterior. Which boasted white clapboard siding, green wooden shutters, and third-floor dormers which overlooked a well-maintained front lawn. Either side of the graceful brick sidewalk, a pair of evergreens reached skyward. The place reminded me of the kind of house one might see on a 1950s TV show.
    The inside tended toward the traditional also. The living room contained a lovely, red-brick fireplace with a glistening white mantle. There were hardwood floors throughout. Scattered here and there, throw rugs provided carefully staged splashes of color in various rooms. The only other nod to modernity was the powder room located just off the kitchen. Dad had installed it to defray wear and tear to his aging knees.
    Now, I settled myself on a stool at the kitchen island and busied myself watching Dad work.
    “I’m sorry about Gary. He was a good man,” Dad said. He kept his gaze carefully focused on the task before him.
    I wasn't surprised Dad had already learned of Gary's death. As the owner and publisher of the Gazette , he usually kept an ear out for what was happening around town. He’d obviously been monitoring the police scanner this afternoon. I suspected he'd already heard more about the murder than I had.
    He glanced up at me. “So how's Cordelia holding up?”
    “How did you know I stopped by to check on her?”
    Dad smiled. “She and you are best friends. It's what best friends do  — help each other through difficult times.”
    I frowned at his words. “She’s not good.”
    “She’s young and strong. It won’t be easy, but she’ll recover. I hear you found the body?”
    “Yes.”
    “And how are you?”
    I shrugged. “I’ll survive.”
    He shook his head and sliced another section of tomato. “It couldn’t have been easy.”
    I watched Dad display his well-honed knife skills. He’d been chief cook and bottle washer in our two person family since Mom's death. I was four then and had very few memories of her today.
    “It was difficult. Stumbling across the corpse like that." I shivered. “I suspect that image is going to haunt me a long time.”
    Dad shot me a worried glance. “You do understand that you’re knee deep in this mess?”
    I sighed. “You’re right. Over the course of my life, I’ve spent a lot of time with those two people.” I swallowed hard.
    “Good, I’m glad you agree with me. That makes this next part easier.”
    I glanced back up at him. “What part?” Dad occasionally had a way of knocking my legs out from under me. I hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those moments. I’d endured about my limit of nasty shocks for the day.
    Dad released a long breath before answering. “I'm sorry, Melanie, but I'm pulling you off the murder story.”
    I blinked, almost disbelieving his words. "But if I don't write up the murder,” I protested, “who will?”
    Mine was a valid