Death Comes Silently Read Online Free Page A

Ingrid worked at the front counter, smiling, chatting, and ringing up sales with practiced efficiency. A long line of customers snaked toward the coffee bar. Annie didn’t spot her mother-in-law. She smiled in relief. No doubt Laurel was sharing her new vision with one of the ladies from Beaufort. Wonderful. Annie had plenty on her plate. She needed to make sure there was enough chicken salad and help Henny Brawley take orders at the coffee bar. Emma’s crusty tone—oh, dear, was she being combative with a reader?—was commandingly audible over the twitter of the club ladies who had arrived way too early and—
     
    “Annie dear!” Her mother-in-law popped from behind the beaded curtain that screened the alcove to the children’s mystery section. “Think of the sun!” Laurel beamed. Was it accidental that she was positioned precisely in the glow of a ceiling spotlight? Whatever, her silver gold hair gleamed and her patrician face with deep-set blue eyes, fine bridged nose, and dimpled chin was strikingly lovely.
     
    Annie stared. On anyone else, Laurel’s costume would have looked absurd, a pink straw farmer’s hat, a red-and-white plaid shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, navy denim overalls accented by gold buttons at the straps and pockets, and a pink leather version of farm boots. On Laurel, the result was fetching. The farmer’s hat boasted, of course, a sunflower tucked beneath the cerise hat band.
     
    Laurel plucked a two-foot sunflower from a capacious pocket, held the blossom out to Annie with a winning smile. “Sunflower time,” she caroled, the pink boots giving a quick Cossack tattoo. “Quick now—five seconds to answer—picture a Sunflower and sweet potatoes. First thought?”
     
    Involuntarily, an obedient mouse in Laurel’s mental laboratory,
home
popped into Annie’s mind, a memory of a sunflower spoon handle as her mother lifted steaming sugar-streaked candied sweet potatoes to her plate. Annie’s lips parted, clamped shut.
     
    “Time’s up.” Laurel’s tone was kind, not chiding. Her manners were exquisite. The five-second limit served two purposes. A quick response was certain to reflect innermost thoughts, but the deadline also afforded an unobtrusive escape hatch for those unwilling to participate. Laurel’s smile was approving, whether she received an answer or not. She continued with no hint of irritation, “I’m sure the magic of Sunflowers will be with you now, adding warmth and happiness to your day. Here is a Sunflower just for you.” When she spoke, the flower’s name was clearly capitalized.
     
    As the days had shortened and the onshore breeze freshened, Laurel had received a bouquet of sunflowers from a new beau. Always seeking the inner meaning of events large and small, she discovered that sunflowers were considered happy flowers, their faces reminiscent of the life-giving warmth of the sun. Ergo, she devised her SunflowerGame, the better, she assured Annie, to encourage happy thoughts that everyone needed, especially in winter.
     
    Annie took the bristly stalk, looked at the flower, noted two opposite spirals, which indicated this was a disk sunflower… With an effort, she yanked her mind back toward the work harness. She had learned more about sunflowers in the last few weeks than she’d
ever
wanted to know, and today she didn’t have time for extraneous sunflower thoughts.
     
    “It’s gorgeous, Laurel.” And, of course, it was, the petals as softly gold as summer sunshine. “Thank you.” Clutching the stalk, she edged down the congested center aisle, heading for the coffee bar area where the ladies would lunch and, at one side, Emma Clyde would regally hold forth as the Queen of Crime.
     
    Despite her sunflower-be-damned mood, she couldn’t help overhearing Laurel confide to a cherubic elderly lady listening with a slightly bemused expression, “Sunflower disk flowers are both male and female and are fertile. Isn’t that a happy thought on a