The Monet Murders Read Online Free

lights encircled the palm trees, adding a note of festivity to the scene. In this peaceful place, it was hard to believe that only a few blocks away a world-class masterpiece had been snatched into oblivion and a woman shot to death.
    A slim blonde server approached, pad and pen in hand. “Evening, ma’am. What would y’all like?” she asked in a lilting southern drawl.
    I’d heard that soft southern drawl before and glanced up from the menu. “Lee Skimp, is that you?”
    “Y’all know me?” A hand flew to her mouth. “The decorating lady.”
    “I’ve been called worse things,” I said, laughing. “How are you?” A sweet girl, Lee had been instrumental in finding Treasure’s killer, and for that I’d be eternally grateful to her.
    “I’m just fine,” she said, adding shyly, “I looked in your shop window the other day. It sure is pretty.”
    While she spoke, she kept glancing over one shoulder then the other as if searching for someone.
    “Is anything the matter, Lee?”
    She nodded. “I shouldn’t be telling a customer, but since you asked…it’s my daddy. I moved out a month ago and heard tell he’s been looking for me. If he finds me here, I don’t know what all will happen.”
    “Anyone of legal age has the right to strike out on her own.”
    “I’ll be twenty-one and a half come Friday.”
    Of course. To serve liquor she’d have to be, though truth to tell, she hardly looked that old. More like a lovely waif with her long, shiny hair and big Loretta Lynn eyes.
    “Then your father can’t force you back home against your will.”
    “You haven’t met my daddy.” She attempted a smile. “You’re not here to listen to me yammer on. What all can I get you, Ms. Dunne?”
    “Please call me Deva. And a glass of house chardonnay would be lovely.” I was on a budget. My palate would understand.
    “Coming right up.”
    As Lee hurried off to fill my order, I scanned the menu. I’d have a burger, the pub specialty, affordable and filling.
    Maybe the man’s hurried gait was what caught my eye. And his wintry clothes. Amid the scantily clad tourists, his blue jeans, cowboy boots and flannel shirt were as exotic as a bikini on an Eskimo. He trotted around Sugden Square, darting with a jerky step between clusters of sightseers. A nervous squirrel on a hunt for nuts, he looked vaguely familiar somehow. Strange.
    Lee came back with the wine and took my order.
    “A burger, well done, no onions.”
    She wrote it down. “Anything else, Ms. Dunne?” I never got to answer. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “He’s found me.” Terror filling her eyes, she dropped the pad on the table. As if her fear drew him like a beacon, the strange man spotted her and came at her full tilt, in his haste elbowing a woman out of his way.
    “Hey, quit your shoving,” she yelled.
    He ignored her and hurried toward the terrace. Trembling, Lee shrank against the pub wall.
    I knocked my chair back and jumped up. “Daddy?”
    She nodded, panic in her eyes. “He’ll make me go home.”
    “You don’t want to?”
    Too terrified to speak, she shook her head.
    I hate bullies, and judging from Lee’s fear, this little, skinny guy was a bona fide bully in the flesh. No way could I sit by and let him push her around. A grizzly protecting her cub, I stood in front of Lee, my purse clutched in both hands.
    “Get out of the way,” her father ordered, his body fairly quivering with rage.
    I squared my shoulders, drawing myself up to my full five feet six. “I’ll do no such thing.”
    “My name’s Merle Skimp, this gal’s daddy. I’m telling you to step aside.”
    “I’m telling you to leave her alone.”
    “You got no right to come between kin.” Skimp’s hand, quick as a snake’s strike, darted out and clutched my arm. For a skinny man, he had a powerful grip. I couldn’t shake him off.
    Food forgotten, the diners at the nearby tables stopped eating to stare at us.
    “Let her go, Daddy,” Lee begged. “I’ll