Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 01 - Murder of the Month Read Free

compatible group.
    The jangle of voices from above convinced me that Bianca and Alix had wasted no time in commencing their inevitable argument tonight. Alix, another charter member of the book club, was the cynical and, thus, somewhat improbable owner of a local bridal shop called “The Wedding Belle.” She and Bianca mixed just slightly less well than oil and water. So far, they’d been in total disagreement on every topic, starting with the choice of books to discuss and moving on to the question of profanity in modern literature, the admissibility of Alix’s cigarettes in the meeting room, and the value of seaweed as an aid to concentration. Their latest battle had been expanded to include the opinions of another member, Minnie Salter, and concerned the possible correlation between the number of grisly murders described and the effectiveness of a mystery. A couple of months into meetings with this experimental book club, my only remaining question was how long it would take before we arrived at the actual slaughter of one club member by another.
    I’d been naively elated when Bianca had wanted to join the new club, thinking that this was an easy way for her to meet people when she moved back to Juniper in June. Visions of mother-daughter bonding on a new level now that we were both adults had floated through my head, but they hadn’t stayed long. If Bianca and I, her own loving mother, skirmished regularly over her opinions, I should have realized that Bianca and the no-nonsense Alix, a total stranger, would likely move quickly to all-out warfare. In our initial meeting, Bianca had expressed her fervent hope that we’d all be able to get in touch with a higher spiritual awareness through studying the crime-solving aptitudes of animals.
    While most of us absorbed this statement in stunned silence, the ever-cynical Alix had offered a muttered response: “If the essence of our spiritual awareness involves disconnecting our brains, that just might work.” The relationship between Bianca and Alix had gone downhill from there.
    The original reason for the formation of this club had been to help Tyler, my employer’s fifteen-year-old grandson, adapt to his forced presence in “this hick town,” as he put it, for the summer. Tyler had yet to say much, but his sideways looks regularly demonstrated his disdain for the group. He was staying with his grandfather while his mother tried yet another drug rehab facility. I hadn’t decided yet whether he was naturally unpleasant or simply reacting to a situation he found totally unsatisfactory.
    Only Minnie Salter, at sixty the oldest member of the book club, seemed to enjoy herself at our meetings, but then Minnie apparently loved everything she did. On Sundays she taught Sunday school classes. On Mondays she hosted an evening knitting group at the church. On Tuesdays, she arranged flowers at the local cemetery and tended gravesites that would otherwise be neglected. On Wednesdays, she delivered casseroles to people just out of the hospital or otherwise incapacitated. And on Thursday nights this summer, she had given up her usual bunco game so she could attend our meetings at Thornton’s Books, where she hoped to discuss in gory detail the latest in the string of true-crime novels she churned through at an amazing rate.
    These meetings were bad enough at the best of times, but with Bianca’s new crusade against Gil, we were probably about to hit a new low. From the decibel level emanating from above, I judged that we were going to witness my long-predicted real-life murder in the next ten minutes. That sounded fine to me, as then I’d have a good excuse to disband this ill-assorted group once and for all. On the other hand, it would be hard work cleaning the gore off the Oriental carpets.
    “ Have a good meeting, Jane.” My elderly employer, Laurence Thornton, spoke from his lonely post at the counter below. No customers were currently in the store, though he had stayed