The Trouble with Turkeys (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 2) Read Free Page B

main living area is straight ahead,” Jeremy informed me. “We’re supposed to meet in the library.”
    Charlie and I followed Jeremy down the hallway to the left. There were windows overlooking the farm and colorful foothills on the right, with closed doors on the left. The library was an impressive room, with dark paneling, hand-carved moldings, a cozy fireplace, an inviting seating area, and hundreds of books lined on hardwood shelves. It was connected by an open door to a large, office-type conference room in which eight people were sitting around a long, rectangular table, arguing about who was and who was not worthy of a portion of the proverbial pie.
    “I guess we’ll have to wait for them to finish,” Jeremy whispered, as we peered through the window separating the library from the conference room .
    “So those are the heirs?” I asked.
    “Afraid so.” Jeremy took a seat next to me from which we could observe the circus from a distance. “I have to say they’re an interesting group.”
    “You’ve met them?”
    “A few.”
    “So fill me in.” I couldn’t help but be curious about the eclectic group who, based on the argument I’d witnessed thus far, appeared to be coldhearted leeches.
    “The older gentleman at the head of the table is Mason Perot, the late Charles Tisdale’s attorney,” Jeremy said. “Like I mentioned before, he’s drawn up a fairly specific contract as to our duties and compensation that you’ll need to sign before you leave.”
    The attorney was a diminutive man of portly stature. He was an odd-looking fellow with a perfectly smooth, bald head and round glasses that covered protruding eyes. It occurred to me that he looked a bit like Mr. Magoo of the classic cartoons I’d watched as a child. I hoped he wasn’t as dim-witted as his cartoon look-alike or this was going to be a very lengthy negotiation.
    “To his right is the man who first contacted me, estate executor and Charles’s eldest son, Oliver Tisdale,” Jeremy continued.
    Oliver reminded me of a crane or some other gangly bird. His eyes were cold and his countenance controlled as he studied the other people seated around the table while they argued over who should and should not be privy to the substantial estate. His intense stare and lifeless expression gave me a chill that worked its way up my spine and then settled at the base of my throat.
    “Who’s the woman to Oliver’s right?” I asked.
    “His wife, Olivia.”
    “Oliver and Olivia?” I giggled. “Really?”
    “ ʼ Fraid so.”
    Olivia, like Oliver, was tall and regal, with dark hair and dark eyes. Both were thin to the point of gauntness and presented an air of controlled sophistication that didn’t quite jibe with the expensive but faded clothes they wore. If I had to guess, I’d say they’d had a substantial amount of money at some point.
      Jeremy continued to identify the occupants of the room as I studied each in turn. Sitting across from Oliver, to Mason’s left, was a portly man with chubby cheeks and a round head. He was as bald as he was rotund and looked freakishly similar to Uncle Fester from The Addams Family movie. Jeremy informed me that he was the second eldest son of the recently deceased: Leroy Tisdale. Based on the redness of his fleshy face and the beads of sweat on his brow, it appeared that, unlike his quiet and controlled brother, he had a temper and wasn’t afraid to show it.
    “And the woman to Leroy’s left?” I inquired.
    “His sister and Charles’s only daughter, Peggy.”
    Peggy, like Leroy, was a bit on the plump side, with a reddish skin tone and thinning blond hair that was held together with at least a can of hairspray. I cringed at the bright blue eye shadow and red blush on her fleshy cheeks, which gave her a clown-like appearance.
    “To Peggy’s left is her daughter, Margaret,” Jeremy continued.
    Margaret had shoulder-length blond hair and a nice smile. She was a bit on the plain side, but, unlike