2 Maid in the Shade Read Online Free

time wondering who my successors were or, more importantly, risk my relationship with Ben.
    I was being preoccupied by Jared right now, I realized, so I forced myself to take in the scene at hand. I surveyed the room; fairly tidy if you didn't count the overturned chair, an unpleasant little puddle, and the phone on the floor. As I wandered about the pristine but outdated kitchen I imagined Mae had just finished making stew when death struck; the wooden ladle was still in the pot. Whatever she had eaten was now lost on the floor.
    A s I waited for Anita to point me in the direction of the owl, I wandered over to Mae's desk in the den. There was her laptop and a manuscript lying beneath a paperweight. “Marauding for Moron's: How to Turn Nature into Your Own Supermarket.”
    “T his ought to be a popular one,” I thought idly. With the booming growth in the free cycling groups and a weak economy, it should be a winning combination. Whoever her heirs were, it would be quite a windfall to them if it was completed.
    I circled back to the kitchen, carefully sidestepping the puddle of vomit. There was an open scrapbook style cookbook and the words “Stone Stew!” in the margin beside a handwritten recipe card. I glanced at it briefly. It looked similar to the one in the book. At the bottom of the page it said “Wet only! Caution! Herb's photos!” There was also a sketch of a stem with something like little hairs drawn on it.
    I didn’t see any photographs around, but I imagined I better keep my hands off the paperwork. As recent experience had taught me, you really never know what you’re going to turn up in a pile of documents.
    T he sink had a bit of red clay and black dirt in it, presumably from fresh vegetables from the farmers’ market or a neighbor. People with gardens are continually overestimating their vegetable needs and desire to can them. It was a rare summer visitor who wasn’t accompanied by a paper bag of produce. This was fine by me, having been the recipient of more than my share of Better Boy tomatoes.
    D espite everyone’s insistence that I can turn any food into an inedible mess, I’ve mastered a great tomato sandwich. All you need is toast, Duke’s mayonnaise, pepper, salt and generous slices of homegrown tomatoes. Eating it over the sink is wise, but not required.
    I looked out the window to the back yard beyond Mae’s house. There was a shed, a compost bin and a perennial garden. A rough path led to a wetland just behind her lot.
    I placed the stew in the fridge without really thinking about it. Then I remembered Jared’s warning about contaminating the scene and decided I might as well keep that slip-up to myself. Even though Mae had undoubtedly died of natural causes, the sheriff’s office always sends someone unless the death is expected after a protracted illness and they do try to follow protocol.
    “Gretchen!” Anita cried , noticing me at last. Jared had just turned to consult with Consuela, a stolid little deputy I recognized from other jobs. I walked over and hugged Anita quickly. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment before pointing to the garage.
    “Wait,” she said, handing me her keys, “can you grab my purse from my car?”
    “ Of course,” I said gently; then headed out to look for her gray sedan. I opened the door and grabbed the pocketbook. It was sitting on some legal forms and I couldn’t help noticing Mae’s name on the top of the first page before I willed myself to look away. Anita trusted me with her purse; it was really bad form to pry.
    I brought her the handbag and placed it on the table beside her. “Thanks,” she said gratefully.
    I picked up the cage and nodded toward it. ”Will I need this?” She looked at me blankly before turning back to focus on Jared’s fine behind as he stood and handed off some paperwork to his colleague. I grinned and shook my head before I stepped through the garage door and spotted it.
    O wls are my