Accessory to Murder Read Online Free Page B

a lot worse,” Alyce said. “Men are a much harder habit to break than cigarettes. More expensive, too. My friend Liz’s mother spent a fortune on a face-lift, and that got her a man who cleaned out her bank account. Now all Liz will inherit is a mountain of debt.” Alyce plugged an odd-shaped metal device into a lemon.
    â€œWhat are you doing to that innocent lemon?” Josie said.
    â€œIt’s a citrus trumpet,” Alyce said. “It’s the most efficient way to extract juice from lemons and limes. Just plug this in and squeeze, and the juice comes down the funnel spout. No waste. No seeds.”
    â€œIt looks cruel,” Josie said.
    The discussion on citrus abuse was interrupted by the doorbell.
    â€œThat’s the plumber,” Alyce said, and jumped up to open the side door.
    There was quite a package on her kitchen doorstep. Josie took in the long legs, the tight jeans, and the soft blue denim shirt with the logo MIKE’S DOGTOWN PLUMBERS . The plumber’s eyes were a clear gray-blue. The jaw was firm and square. Short brownish hair, Miami Vice stubble. Very nice, she thought.
    â€œI’m Mike. I’m here for your plumbing,” he said, and turned bright red. “I mean, you wanted a pot filler, ma’am?”
    He looked at Josie and Alyce, not sure who to address. Josie bit her lip, trying not to giggle.
    â€œYes,” Alyce said. Her pale complexion was pinker than usual. She patted the wall over the stove. “I want it here, if you can get to my pipes. I mean, my water pipes.”
    Josie snorted and tried to turn it into a cough.
    Mike looked ready to bolt for the door. “Pipes. Right. I’m sure you have good lines. I’ll get my stuff in the truck and be back.” He disappeared again.
    â€œHe can get to my pipes,” Josie whispered. “I may need a pot filler after all.”
    â€œQuiet,” Alyce hissed. She was rosy with embarrassment.
    Mike returned with a gray toolbox and a wary expression.
    â€œWe’re having a frittata,” Alyce said. “Would you like a piece?”
    Josie choked. Alyce kicked her.
    â€œNo thanks,” Mike said. “I had lunch already. A Big Mac.” He looked around the kitchen. “I guess you don’t go to McDonald’s.”
    â€œI do,” Josie said. “I love the special sauce. I could coat my whole body with it.” Where did that come from?
    Mike’s eyebrows shot up.
    â€œAs a beauty aid,” Josie added. “Not to eat.”
    Alyce had such a bad coughing fit that Josie had to pound her on the back. Mike tried to get her a glass of water, but he couldn’t find the cabinet with the glasses in the acres of unmarked oak. By the time Alyce finished choking, Josie’s ridiculous remark was forgotten.
    â€œCan I get you any coffee? Soda? Bottled water?” Alyce said. She took a step toward the stove and Mike backed toward the door. What was going on here? Why would two housewives scare a plumber? And why did they sound like a bad porn movie?
    â€œNo, I’m fine,” Mike said. “Really. I just want to work.”
    â€œThen we’ll let you do that,” Alyce said brightly. “As soon as I get my buns out of the oven.”
    â€œGood,” he said. “I mean, thanks.”
    Alyce might be rattled, but she was still a perfect hostess. She cut the frittata in two and put each half on a plate with a generous helping of salad. Then she carried the plates into the sunny breakfast room. Josie studied her friend’s odd gliding walk. Alyce seemed to float above the floor, and Josie could never figure out how she did that.
    â€œHow can I help?” Josie said.
    â€œYou can sit down and enjoy the view,” Alyce said. She was too polite to say Josie would only be in her way.
    Josie sat. The sunny bay window overlooked the garden, planted for early December with ornamental cabbages. The table had yellow linen