Murder for Millions (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 7) Read Online Free

“Uh, thanks. I guess.
I liked New Orleans a whole lot better. But my father decided we should move
half way across the planet so he could take some lame job with—” She suddenly
stopped, her cheeks turning crimson. “I’m sorry, ma’am. That was rude. We had a
big blowout this morning, so I’m kind of still coming down.”
    “I get it,” I said. “I was your age
once.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Did your
dad make you move away from all of your friends?”
    I shook my head. “No, I grew up
right here.”
    She offered a weary smile before
asking if I was dropping off or picking up.
    “Neither,” I said, reaching into my
pocket for the copies I’d made earlier. “I was wondering if you could tell me
who this dry cleaning ticket belongs to.”
    I unfolded the paper and held it
up. She examined the photocopy for a few seconds before pointing at the duplicate
of the Bubble Brite receipt.
    “She’s a witch.”
    “I beg your pardon.”
    “That ticket number is, like,
totally seared on my brain right now,” the young woman said. “It belonged to
Marla Soble.” She paused to see if I’d react to the name, but I didn’t
recognize it. “Or maybe I should say belongs to her. She and her son came
in earlier acting like it was the end of the world. She’d dropped off a silk
dress a few days ago. I guess it’s this really expensive designer thing,
okay? Between the two of them, my ears are still burning. I mean, almost
everyone curses now and then, but Mrs. Soble and her son take the cake on how
many F-bombs you can stuff into one sentence.”
    “That’s a shame,” I said.
    “Totally,” the young girl droned.
“And he’s so cute, but way too creepy.”
    “Creepy?”
    “Yeah, he asked another girl that
works here out on a date. She’s, like, way older than me, more like your age.
Anyway, when they got to the movies, he pretended like he forgot his wallet and
she had to pay and he didn’t even really say anything about being sorry.”
    “And that qualifies as creepy?”
    She harrumphed loudly, flicking her
hair over one shoulder. “Well, yeah. Don’t you think that’s just, like, sketchy?”
    I figured it was easier to agree,
so I smiled and asked what happened after Marla and her son cursed up a storm.
    “Not much. Because she lost the
ticket. And Missy’s mom and dad—” She swerved her gaze over one shoulder toward
Melissa Taggart on the phone. “—well, they’re über -strict about not
letting any garments go unless the customer can produce a receipt.”
    “But don’t people lose them now and
then?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Like, every
five minutes.”
    I made a mental note to never misplace
a dry cleaning receipt. Then I asked what the Taggarts do when a customer comes
for their order without proof of ownership.
    She laughed softly. “Nothing. I
think it’s just some weird red tape thing. If the person can describe the
stuff, then we usually let them have it.”
    “And so the woman you just
mentioned…”
    “Marla Soble,” she said. “I will never forget that name as long as I live. She was just, like, completely hateful.” Her lower lip jutted out. “She called me fat .”
    The girl looked like she weighed
about as much as a feather pillow after a weeklong juice cleanse.
    “Well, if you’re heavy,” I said.
“What does that make me?”
    Her eyelids fluttered nervously.
“My granny would call you ‘big boned,’” she said. “But I think you look, like,
fine.” She did a little swirl in my direction with one finger. “Although the
apron is kind of poofing out right around your stomach. You might want to lose
that before you go out in public the next time.”
    I smiled. “Duly noted. And I will.
Today was really busy, so it slipped my mind.”
    “I hear that. We had a huge rush
from the second I clocked in until about twenty minutes ago.”
    “Was Marla Soble part of that?”
    The twinkle in her eyes vanished.
“Uh-huh. It was her third time in today,