Mayhem at the Orient Express Read Free

anxiety, and that’s what we need to contend with first before we look
     for an answer to your problem. No worries,” she added, when Marianne gave the bottle
     a questioning look. “Neroli smells really nice, zesty and spicy with a little flowery
     note. Go on, Marianne, just pull up your sweater and—”
    “Not in my courtroom!” Alvin was on his feet again, and one look from him and Marianne
     blanched and handed the bottle back to Chandra.
    With a sigh of epic proportions, Kate dropped into the nearest chair and checked her
     text messages. “This is a perfect example of everything I’ve been telling you, Alvin,”
     she said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “I told you, the woman plays sitar
     music. Loud. Day in and day out. Chandra’s nuts. Do you get what I’m talking about
     now that you see her in action? Someone needs to do something about the music and
     the bonfires and the chanting.”
    “Actually . . .” I stepped back, my weight against one foot, lest Alvin get lost in
     the moment and forget the real reason we were there. “What someone needs to do something
     about is Jerry Garcia. That stupid cat—”
    “Is nicer than a lot of people I know,” Chandra grumbled.
    Since she really didn’t know me, I didn’t take this personally.
    Kate dropped her phone back in her purse. “Can we leave now? It’s obvious nothing’s
     going to get done. And I don’t have time for this nonsense. Just tell Bea here”—she
     cast an icy green glance in my direction—“to cool it with Grand Central Station, and
     the Good Witch of the North over there . . .” She looked toward Chandra. “To put a
     sock in it, and—”
    “And the cat!” I butted in before Kate could get even more carried away. “Don’t forget
     the freakin’ cat!”
    Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed that there was a thick legal book on Alvin’s desk
     until he picked it up and slammed it back down.
    That got our attention. So did his voice. He spoke in what was nearly a whisper, each
     word so clipped and so precise, there was no doubt that he meant what he said.
    “I’ve had enough. We’re going to solve this problem once and for all. And we’re going
     to do it right now.”
    “Make Bea close her B and B?” Kate asked.
    “Make Chandra keep her cat inside?” I countered.
    “Make Kate turn off that horrible music?” Chandra retorted.
    Alvin banged a fist down on top of the book. “No. None of those things. What you women
     need to do . . .” His gaze moved from one to the other of us. “What all of you need
     to do is learn to get along. You’re neighbors. Start acting like it. You have to stop
     talking
at
each other and start talking
to
each other. And I’ll tell you what, I’m going to go down in South Bass history, because
     I’m the one who’s going to make sure you do it.”
    Yeah, I sounded as skeptical as I was feeling when I asked, “You’re going to sentence
     us to talk to each other?”
    Alvin’s smile was sleek. “I’m going to do you one better than that,” he said. “I’m
     going to make each of you report to the library at seven o’clock, this Monday, and
     every Monday for the next year. I’m sentencing you three to be a book discussion group.”
    Marianne’s miserable expression morphed into a smile.
    Chandra’s mouth dropped open.
    Kate (do I even need to say it?) rolled her eyes.
    Good thing one of us didn’t lose her head. “You can’t do that,” I said. “It’s not
     legal.”
    “Well, it’s not illegal,” he told me. “And believe me, it beats all the other things
     I could do to you. You don’t want to find out what those things are.”
    I had to agree with Alvin there.
    But just for the record, that didn’t mean I had to like it.
    From the looks on their faces, I’m pretty sure Kate and Chandra didn’t either, and
     I left the town hall with a cynical smile on my face, thinking it was the first thing
     we’d ever agreed on.
    No, at that point,