The Design Is Murder (Murders By Design) Read Online Free Page A

looked, she was out like a light. So it’ll just be you and me. Come on.” Crooking a finger, he beckoned me toward the fascinating rotunda. “Over here’s the kitchen. Let’s start there.”
    No harm in taking a look now that I was here, so I tamped down the moral dilemma and followed my unlikely Pied Piper into the heart of the home. After all, what did I have to lose?

Chapter Six
    An “Ahhh” escaped me as I trailed Stew into a stunning high-ceilinged space that combined a compact kitchen-in-a corner with a soaring great room.
    “Look at this.” He waved his arms at a bank of windows overlooking the pool. “No privacy at all.”
    Through the wall of glass, I could see the man from the panel truck busy on his hands and knees, chipping away at some loose pool tiles.
    “Every time I throw an arm around the bride, Tony’s in on it,” Stew said.
    So that
was
Tony I’d spoken to in the driveway.
    “And me a shutter manufacturer. It doesn’t seem right, you know what I mean?”
    “You run a shutter business?”
    “Yeah. Florida Shutters. Couples come in, and nine times out of ten they each want something different. That’s how I know you settle marital disputes. Me too. It’s part of the game. Too bad I couldn’t solve some of my own.”
    He dropped the spent stogie in the sink and ran a little water over it. Lovely.
    He looked up quickly, caught my frown and ignored it. “You’ve done business with us. I checked the books.”
    “Yes, several times. Your product is excellent.”
    “That’s the other reason I called you. One local business should help another.”
    “You’re hardly local, Stew.” I knew Florida Shutters shipped all over the southeast, and possibly beyond. If Stew was the CEO and driving force behind the company, he was undoubtedly a wealthy man. Having Deva Dunne Interiors lumped together with him gave me a momentary high, but I came back to reality fast. “Strange we never met before now.”
    “I leave most local floor sales to my staff. Spend my time out back in the plant. I’m a hands-on kind of guy.”
    “I can see that,” I said, eyeing his beefy fingers, each one sprouting a little crop of black hair. “I take it you’ll want shutters on all these windows.”
    “You got that right. On every damned one.”
    I dropped my tote on a chair, picked up the clipboard and made some notes. The scope of the room already had my creative juices flowing. “Do you mind if I photograph the interiors as we go through? For reference?”
    He nodded. “Do what you have to.”
    I turned to get a shot of the kitchen corner and gasped. Where had she come from?
    A short, voluptuous woman in a white nylon uniform stood rinsing the sink, a pained expression on her face.
See
, I wanted to say to Stew.
I’m not the only one who’s disgusted.
But of course, I did no such thing.
    “Oh, hey, Deva, this here’s Teresa. The best chef Puerto Rico ever produced. Isn’t that right, Teresa?”
    Teresa smiled and nodded but said nothing.
    “She makes the best paella you ever tasted. Only thing is she’s deaf as a post. Can’t hear much at all.” He flexed his fingers. “Good thing I got talented hands.”
    My jaw must have sagged, for he chuckled and said, “I’m talking about signing. Watch me.”
    With a series of gestures that even an orangutan could interpret—puckering his lips, twisting his wrist back and forth as if pouring something into his mouth, and then blowing out short puffs of air over an imaginary cup, he told Teresa he wanted a drink. A hot drink.
    “Coffee, Mr. Stew?” she asked, her voice loud and clear.
    Triumphant, Stew turned to me. “See! Works every time.”
    It was obvious that Teresa was toying with his need to believe she couldn’t hear a thing. A weird little game to play, if nothing else.
    Stew didn’t give me any time to dwell on the matter. “Come on. While she makes the coffee, I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
    We toured every room, from the formal