Murder in the Mist Read Online Free

nothing exciting ever happens here. Life is dull, routine. In a word—boring. In time you’ll tire of writing mundane articles about the women’s society planting new flowers around the gazebo, or who died, or who won the annual pie-baking contest. You’re young, talented, beautiful. Couldn’t you find something more exciting?”
    Phyllis scolded. “Maudine Perry, what my niece does with her life is her business.” She flashed a thoughtful smile toward Laura. “Part of me agrees with Maudie, but the other part is totally delighted you’re here.”
    Phyllis noted the desperation that crept into Laura’s voice. “I needed a change. A do-over, if you will. I was born in Cole Harbor and lived here until I was five. It seemed logical for me to come home.”
    The gaunt look and dark circles under her eyes spoke volumes. Phyllis didn’t need a sixth sense or a séance to know something was amiss with her niece. She placed her hands on the table and pushed her chair backwards as she stood. “Ladies, we haven’t left a drop in the pot or a crumb of bread to evoke a wisp of smoke, much less a spirit. I declare the séance officially postponed.”
    Laura groaned when she arose. A reaction to the pain, she gripped her hip. The wan look on her niece’s face caused Phyllis to hasten her friends toward the front door. “Be careful going home. It’s thick as pea soup tonight.” And then to Laura, “Don’t worry about your bags. I’ll bring them up. Take your mother’s old room. It has its own bathroom. Top of the stairs, end of the hall.”
    Laura let out a tired breath. “It was nice meeting all of you. Forgive me for intruding.”
    Maudie patted Laura’s shoulder. “Now, now, none of that. We’re just a bunch of dotty ole busybodies who haven’t learned to mind our own business. It’s my turn to host the next Friday Sisters Book Club meeting. Promise you’ll join us.”
    “Perhaps.” Laura turned toward the stairs.

Chapter Three
    “Knock, knock.”
    “Door’s open, Aunt Philly.”
    Phyllis used the toe of her shoe to nudge the bedroom door completely open. She set the tray containing two cups, a small teapot, and a canister of whipped cream on the end of the bed. “I thought you might like a cup of hot chocolate, with a healthy splash of amaretto. It’s my specialty.”
    Phyllis sniffed her appreciation for the aromatic fragrance as she lifted the canister. “Whipped cream?”
    Laura smiled and nodded. She accepted the cup as she sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard, knees drawn up. Her aunt relaxed in the wingbacked chair next to the window.
    Neither woman spoke.
    Laura closed her eyes and swallowed the knot in the back of her throat. The velvety texture of the chocolate laced with alcohol worked like a magic potion. She set the empty cup aside. A slight blush rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Aunt Philly.”
    Phyllis tipped her own cup for the last luscious drop of liquid. “Whatever for?”
    “For barging in without an invitation, for being rude to your friends, for…for—” and then like the gates of a dam had burst, her tears flowed and heart-wrenching sobs tore from Laura’s throat. Damn her aunt for unleashing the vulnerability she’d chained down so she could investigate crimes without crumbling under fear.
    Phyllis shifted to the bed and opened her arms. She stroked the silken strands of short blonde hair as she cradled her niece. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on you things were not right. I’m a good listener, if you’re of a mind to talk.”
    Laura sat up. Between sobs, hiccups, and blowing her nose, she managed to relate about Jolly’s death, about her own injuries, and about the implied threat to her life. “It’s all my fault. I have a knack for plunging ahead without thinking. Max, my editor, warned me. If I had listened, if I had waited for DEA to arrive, Jolly would be celebrating his wedding day instead of lying in a cold grave.”
    Phyllis offered a