Stuck on Murder Read Free

“Are they too big to be put in time-out?”
    Tenley managed to turn her snort into a cough, while Brenna hustled over to the twins.
    “Ladies, I am sure we have another sunflower in the back. Let me just borrow this one to match it,” Brenna said.
    She tried to take the sunflower, but neither one would let go. She gave a gentle tug, but they both tightened their grip, and Brenna wondered if she would have to pry their fingers off one at a time.
    The bells hanging on the front door gave a terse jangle, and everyone turned to see who had yanked open the door. Brenna used the moment to snatch the sunflower out of the ladies’ hands. They both gave her a put-out look, but she just smiled and turned to the door.
    Jim Ripley, the town mayor, entered the shop. His clothes were rumpled and his comb-over had flopped onto to the wrong side of his head, making him look like a lopsided rooster. He was also red from his forehead to his jowls, adding to his gallinaceous appearance. He scanned the room, passing over all of the women until he saw Brenna.
    “It’s imperative that I speak with you,” he said.

Chapter 2

    Many of the best examples of decoupage come from Ven ice, Italy, where cabinetmakers began the style of mixing paintings with furniture in the late-seventeenth century.
    Brenna stared at the mayor. Aware that the entire room was watching her, she forced a smile. She did not want to give the Porter twins even more to gossip about.
    “Ahem.” Cynthia Ripley cleared her throat.
    The mayor cast her a cursory glance, barely removing his eyes from Brenna, who had no idea what to say. He sidled over to the table, still watching Brenna, as he leaned over and kissed the side of Phyllis’s cheek with gusto.
    “Jim!” Cynthia snapped while Phyllis blushed to the roots of her bottle blond hair.
    “What? Oh!” Mayor Ripley looked away from Brenna and saw his wife glowering at him while her friend flushed with embarrassment. His practiced politician’s smile lost some of its luster. “Oh, I am so sorry, my dear. Pardon me, Phyllis. I thought you were . . . oh, dear.”
    “Really, Jim, I should think you’d know your own wife,” Cynthia snapped.
    He looked like a chastened schoolboy as he leaned forward to peck Cynthia’s rigid cheek. “Of course, dearest, so sorry. Again, Phyllis, forgive me. I have some business to discuss with Ms. Miller, and then I’ll be on my way.”
    “Of course,” Brenna said, feeling bad for him. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to tell the difference between the two women from behind. “Shall we step outside?”
    “Excellent,” Mayor Ripley said. His polished public grin was back in place and at full wattage. “After you.”
    Brenna led the way out into the cool April evening. There was a dampness to the air that promised rain overnight. The old-fashioned streetlamps that surrounded the square cast large pools of golden light, and she could see moths dancing in and out of their glow.
    She glanced through the window of Vintage Papers and saw Tenley trying to get the class back on task, but the ladies had all stopped what they were doing to watch Brenna and Mayor Ripley.
    He followed her gaze and said, “Perhaps we should walk.”
    Brenna fell into step beside him. Mayor Ripley was a stocky man, who came up only to her ear, so she shortened her stride to match his. He wore a white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled back to his elbows and a pair of navy blue suspenders, which kept his creased dress slacks hovering just below the pronounced bulge of his belly. His tie was loose, the knot hanging beneath the open neck of his shirt. She got the feeling he was agitated about something, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it had to do with her.
    “I’m going to get right to the point,” he said. “How well do you know your landlord, Nate Williams?”
    Okay, she hadn’t seen that one coming. Her face must have shown her surprise as Mayor Ripley continued