The Monet Murders Read Online Free Page A

come with you.”
    “No, you won’t,” I said. “You,” I shouted to a startled diner. “Get the manager. Hurry.” To my relief, the man jumped up and rushed into the pub.
    “That won’t do you no good.” Skimp tightened his hold on my arm, bruising it. “You heard her. She’s leaving this godless place. Come on, gal.” The pressure of his fingers increased, shooting pain down to my fingertips.
    Shaking, ashen-faced, Lee took a step toward him. Where the hell was the manager?
    As Lee moved away from the wall, Skimp let go of me to lunge for her. The tyrant. My Irish temper flared sky high. Before he could grab her, I swung my handbag and clobbered him. Combined, my cell phone, keys and makeup kit had enough clout to knock him off his feet for a second. But only for a second. He rallied, beckoning to her. “Come on.”
    I struck out again, this time knocking the baseball cap off his bald head. As he bent to retrieve it, I realized why he looked familiar. “I know you!”
    He was the gardener I’d seen stooping over the shrubbery on the Alexanders’ lawn.
    Before he could admit or deny it, a tall, chesty man with the heft of a barroom bouncer hurried over, trailed by the flustered diner.
    “I’m Brad, the pub manager. What’s the problem here?” the big guy asked.
    “Ain’t nothing to worry about, sir,” Merle Skimp said, tugging the Devil Rays cap back on his head. “It’s a family matter.”
    Brad turned to me. “You called for help, ma’am?”
    There was that “ma’am” again. First Dreadlocks, now Brad. Clearly, I needed to change my image—lengthen my hair, shorten my skirt. Something.
    “This man—” I pointed a finger at Skimp, “—attempted to abduct your server.”
    At the direct accusation, Skimp found his spine. “She’s my gal. I just want to do the right thing by her. She don’t belong in here. Servin’ drinks like a common hussy.”
    His eyes on Lee, Brad upped his hefty chin in her father’s direction. “You know this man?”
    Trembling, Lee stepped out from behind me and nodded.
    “You want to go with him?”
    Without lifting her gaze from the concrete pavers lining the terrace, she shook her head. “No, sir.”
    “You heard her,” Brad said to Skimp. “I have to ask you to leave.”
    Skimp shot a venomous glance at me then held out a hand to Lee. She made no move to take it.
    “Come on home, gal. Think of what your momma would say.”
    Lee shook her head. “No, Daddy.”
    Brad reached into his pants pocket and removed a cell phone. “Your choice, mister.”
    “I’m goin’, but I ain’t happy about it. I’ll talk to you another day, gal.”
    “Come back, I’ll call the police.” Arms crossed over his green Irish Pub T-shirt, biceps bulging, Brad held the phone, watching as Skimp darted across the square and disappeared around the corner of the Island Grill.
    “I’m so sorry,” Lee began, teary eyed. She got no further.
    “No need to apologize, Lee. You’re a good employee.” Brad turned to the gaping diners. “Show’s over, everybody. Drinks on the house.”
    As a pleased buzz went up, he asked me, “Your name again, ma’am?”
    Ma’am . “I give up.”
    “What was that?” Brad asked, a puzzled look on his face.
    I shook my head. “Sorry. Just thinking out loud. My name’s Deva Dunne. I opened a design shop on Fern Alley a few weeks ago.”
    “We’re neighbors, then.” He held out his huge hand, pumping mine up and down with a surprising gentleness. “You’re a friend of Lee’s?”
    “Yes,” I replied without a moment’s hesitation.
    Lee rewarded me with a tremulous smile.
    “We’re not busy right now,” he said to her. “Why don’t you take an hour off? Have a burger or something. Talk to your friend…ah…Deva. I’ll have Nancy cover for you.”
    “What a nice man,” Lee said as Brad strode off.
    “Absolutely,” I agreed, stopping short of adding, “One out of two ain’t bad.”
    With a grateful sigh, Lee sank onto