Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 04 - Miami Mummies Read Online Free Page B

full wine glass in front of Tippy, scooped up both empties, then stared at me. Was he flirting or memorizing my face? I turned away. No sense in making it easy for him either way.
    Tippy drank half the glass in one huge cheek-puffing gulp, wiped her mouth with her sleeve smearing her red lipstick across her face. She looked over her right and then her left shoulder and leaned in for a whisper.
    “I’ve followed your adventures in the Miami Herald. Cute sidekick you got. Looks a hell of a lot like Johnny Depp.”
    She poked a manicured finger at me. “Here’s what I want from you. You and your hunky sidekick get to the bottom of the mummy pit. He declares them bogus and I get my land untangled. Do it like… yesterday. Otherwise, I will see you in court.”
    “You have no grounds to sue me. You had ninety days to run a fine-tooth comb over that property. The ball is in your court.” I bit back the word bitch as I tripped over my clichés.
    “Grounds, schmounds. Either you make those mummies disappear or lawyer up.”
    I was in the right, but that never means a darn thing. I could spend months or even years in court defending the print on the agreements Tippy signed. I felt my shoulders slump as they made room for the migraine that flew up my nostrils.
    She poked her finger at me again. “I need an unbiased examination of those mummies. Something doesn’t smell right. If I hire a professional archaeologist or let the state do it I might as well roll over right now. I want those rag dolls discredited before the state forces me to sell or the Indians kill me. I promised Daddy I would build that high-rise and I meant it.”
    “Your lawsuit doesn’t scare me.” The lie “But those mummies interest me.” The truth. “When Roger returns, we’ll look into them.” I stood. “Now I have a plane to catch.”
    I had no idea when Roger would be back but immediately wasn’t soon enough.
    I caught six red lights on the way home and breezed through the rest. My garage door eased open and I pulled Goldie into her dehumidified home. It was a cool sixty degrees and tight as a tomb. Sure the utility bills might fuel a jumbo jet from Miami to… well… Palm Beach, but it kept my car happy.
    No time for a shower if I was to make that last flight. I’d clean up at Hic’s hotel. I gobbled a quart of mango ice cream, threw pajamas and a robe in an over-night bag along with jeans and a sweater, and non-sexy undies. Speed changing into dark brown slacks, a chocolate-colored silk knit turtleneck, and brown Ferragamo flats, I flipped a yellow pashmina around my neck for a pop of color and flung my London Fog trench coat over my shoulder. The power cord slipped in the side pocket of my laptop case and I threw both bags in Goldie’s front passenger seat.
    As I backed my car out of the garage a shadow slipped behind the building. I flashed my high beams but caught nothing in the lights. It could be my imagination or one of the dozens of dog-walking dames who followed their pooches with little plastic poop bags they never used. The shadow crossed in front of my door. It had to be a neighbor.
    Stomping the brake pedal, I put Goldie in park, and sat studying the silhouetted patterns in the shrubs. Something didn’t feel right. I shut off the ignition and cautiously stepped out. Skirting the right side of the garage, I splayed my keys between my knuckles. It hurt like hell.
    “I’m armed! Who’s back there?” I called.
    A rattle of bushes sent chills up my backbone and cottoned my mouth. I clicked Goldie’s fob and her horn honked twice. Maybe the prowler would think there was more than just little old me and fistful of keys.
    An abnormally high-pitched voice silenced the crickets. “Not to worry, honey! It’s Mrs. Lipschitz. Just looking for my cat Baby. She ran off.”
    The tension oozed from my shoulders like melted mango ice cream on hot apple pie. “Do you need help? Step out in the light where I can see you.”
    “Oh wait,