Dead Pan Read Online Free

yellow gel colors until I had a suitable blonde color. Then I used that color to tint about six ounces of gum paste—enough for two dolls’ hair. I wrapped that gum paste in plastic wrap and put it aside.
    I then used a bit of tan coloring to create a skin tone. I tinted quite a bit of gum paste this color. I knew I’d need extra if I botched painting the face. Those little eyebrows and eyelashes were going to be really tough to get right.
    I tinted the remainder of the gum paste red and green. Even if I got frustrated and gave up on the doll, I could still use the green and red gum paste for decoration on Christmas cakes.
    I took off the gloves and unwrapped the skin-colored gum paste. I tore off a small amount and rewrapped the gum paste. I rolled a piece of the gum paste into a ball and then flattened it out into a long, relatively thick strand. I placed this strand into the bottom half of the mold to create a leg. I repeated the process for the other leg. Then I placed the top on the mold and pressed the two halves together. I trimmed away the excess, and then opened the mold and took out the doll’s legs. I bent the legs into a sitting position and placed them on a Styrofoam block.
    Before I could get the doll’s arms molded, the doorbell rang. That was quick , I thought, praying once again that the hospital had confirmed Fred’s death to have been a fluke . . . the result of a preexisting condition.
    “Come on in,” I called. “The door’s open.”
    But instead of Fran, it was Ben. Ben Jacobs. He’s a reporter and editor for the Brea Ridge Chronicle , a freelance writer and a total HAG (Hot Available Guy). Ben has light brown hair that has a habit of falling over his pale blue eyes, a lanky build, and a lopsided smile.
    We’ve known each other since we were kids and have been dating since I moved back here from Tennessee. He’s never been married, so maybe he’s not the type to commit . . . which is fine by me because I’m not looking for any sort of serious attachment right now either. Really. I’m not.
    “It’s not like you to leave your door unlocked and invite visitors in sight unseen,” Ben said. “You must be expecting someone.”
    “I’m afraid I am.”
    He looked so handsome and so comfortable leaning there against the doorpost. He was wearing khaki pants and a light blue denim shirt that brought out his eyes. He made himself right at home when he was here. I wondered if he was at ease like that everywhere or if it had something to do with me. Maybe I made him feel at home.
    He arched a brow, which nearly hid beneath that strand of wavy hair that had fallen into his eyes. If I wasn’t working with gum paste, I’d brush it away.
    “So who’s this scary visitor?” he asked.
    I smiled. “She’s not scary. What scares me about her is that she’s a Nancy Drew wannabe, and she wants to help me investigate Fred Duncan’s death. Fred’s her cousin.”
    “Since when are you investigating Fred Duncan’s death?”
    I explained to him how I was there with Connie when Fred died and how she’d asked me to help her. Then I relayed my conversation with Violet and my visit with Fran.
    “So you’re thinking Fran will come back here, tell you Fred’s year-old brain injury contributed to his death and that will be the end of it.”
    I grimaced and bobbed my head from side to side. “Hoping, I think, would be a better word. Really, really hoping. What? You don’t think so?”
    “I don’t know, Daphne. The entire situation seems suspect to me. Two-thirds of the guests at a Christmas party suddenly fall ill?”
    “It wasn’t the cake,” I said quickly. “The police are almost sure of that. You see, not everyone who got sick ate the cake, so it had to have been something else.”
    “Which is good. But it had to be something.”
    “Don’t tell me you believe this was all an elaborate plot to kill poor Fred.”
    “No. I think Fred wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time. But