Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 01 - A Brilliant Plan Read Online Free

updated him on the detectives’ visit—while they pretended to pick fresh herbs. No further remarks were made about the visit or any possible predicaments of their daughter. The pact of silence and ignorance was intact. But it lingered between us all, unspoken.

Chapter 3

    SHORTLY AFTER NOON, peace came to a sudden end. My sister and her two kids arrived spilling out of their taxi with an endless stream of bags and cases. Hugs and kisses all around, little useless presents for most of us. Oohing and ahhhing at last year’s improvements on wardrobe, architecture and hairdos. After eight hours on the plane, my niece and nephew, Jennifer and Keith, were soon playing football with Mundy in the garden. They were screaming and shouting for the best throws and catches. The kids loved Mundy instantly; he was very natural around them. Something they had probably never experienced with their father or mother, since Sunny and Tom were both stiff and over caring parents, projecting a lot of their own fears and life ambitions into their kids. Jen was the older of the two, eight years old, she was a typical commerce driven child of this generation—iPhone, PlayStation and Barbie were her most uttered words. With her straight honey-blonde hair and coquettish looks, she took after my sister Sunny. In comparison, Keith, at seven years old, was a serious dark haired kid with glasses and a thoughtful hesitant manner. He had taken after his father, Tom Highler, an accountant with a Dallas oil company. Sunny and he had gone separate ways for five years now. Sunny looked a lot like me but she was the more mature one, sturdier frame and bones, a little more of the ‘Hilda’ genes. Where I had taken refuge in my diamonds, crafts and not-to-be-named adventures, she had rebelled against the hippie fraction by embracing capitalistic America to the fullest. She had become a corporate lawyer. Specializing in mergers and acquisitions, she prepared billion dollar deals that destroyed numerous jobs and economic microstructures. ‘Synergy’ was her favorite word and to the dismay of Mom and Dad, she was proud of her achievements. Define ‘dysfunctional’ in the new Millennium.

    Mom finally announced, “We will eat in the garden under the trees,” and clapped her hands.  
    And so we did.

    Thanksgiving dinner turned out to be pleasant with the occasional strained overtones that uniquely marked this family as my own. Mom had outdone herself with the cooking; the dishes she had prepared deflected any joke about non-tasty veggie food. Dad told story after story of San Diego’s social elite and their ways of ignoring the poor and underprivileged. Mundy behaved, not embarrassing me any further. Conversation circled around family affairs, catching up with neighborhood gossip and the ethical conflicts of corporate America.
    Nearly two and half hours later, we finished eating, absolutely stuffed. Mundy was giving me a light neck massage; had he attempted such a stunt 24 hours ago, I would have slugged him. I bet he enjoyed the whole thing immensely. Well, my price for a good alibi. When this was over, it was my turn to let him suffer.
    Sunny sat with Mom, sipping ice tea and chatting away. The kids played with the cats and helped their granddad fix something on the motorcycle. Later, Mom brought out her guitar and we sang Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez songs, the three Stone-girls in a strange sad harmony.

    Mundy and I hadn’t finished our little chat from before noon so after we were able to move again and had done the dishes, we headed down to the waterfront to walk the vegetable lasagna into the ground. The sun was already gone and we wandered under yellow light, skaters and joggers buzzing by.
    “Your folks are nice,” Mundy stated. His parents had been gone for many years, both taken by the Big C.
    “No complaints. But you caught the gang in a good mood,” I nodded. “These family gatherings often end with loud quarrels, tears and