Two Scoops of Murder (Felicity Bell Book 2) Read Online Free

spoke, “but there’s been a great tragedy.” She folded her hands. “My husband…he just died.”
    Instantly the Thomsons contorted their faces into a look of sympathy. So even in the happiest place on Long Island tragedy still managed to strike from time to time. Well, such is life, their mournful expressions indicated. They remembered the graybeard smiling from the brochure they’d received at the travel agency and their hearts bled. He’d looked like such a kindly old gentleman.
    “We’re so sorry,” Mrs. Thomson said.
    “Yes, very, very sorry,” echoed her husband. “Accident, was it?”
    There was a short pause, in which Mrs. Thomson elbowed her disrespectful husband in the ribs, then the policeman spoke in a voice as if from the tomb. “It was no accident. It was murder.”

Chapter 6
    “ I don’t care ! If I hear that excuse one more time I’m simply going to scream!”
    Dorothy stared at the man, eyes blazing with fury. He’d just rejected her a refund and in her world there was no such thing as rejection. No one denied Dorothy Valour anything. No one!
    The manager of The Bristol, the well-known department store on Fifth Avenue, gave her his most obsequious smile. “But Mrs. Valour…”
    “ Miss Valour,” she snapped.
    “My apologies, Miss Valour,” he corrected himself. “As a rule we don’t issue a refund on items sold more than ninety days ago. No exception, I’m afraid.”
    “This is a stupid and utterly silly little rule,” she huffed.
    He inclined his head, the smile never leaving his face. “That may well be, but it is still a rule the management at The Bristol strictly adheres to. So I’m afraid we can’t refund your…” He flicked an eye at the purple bra that lay between them on the counter. “…brassiere.”
    “This bra is junk, and I want my money back,” Dorothy fumed. It wasn’t so much that she needed the cash. She could have bought a thousand bras without batting an eye, but the clasp had snapped one hour into her lunch date with Reece, and if there was something she hated more than uncooperative managers, it was paying full price for faulty merchandise. Especially when they led to wardrobe malfunctions when in the public eye.
    The manager eyed the item with a certain distaste. He seemed to feel Dorothy was one of a class of people who take advantage of the return policy of The Bristol. He was a fastidious man of smallish posture, a natty dresser, not a single hair out of place on his head, and not about to budge on a point of policy.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Valour. It is clear to me the clasp snapped through injudicious handling of the item.”
    “That’s nonsense. It just…” She flapped her arms. “…snapped!”
    The manager straightened his back. He didn’t tolerate slurs on The Bristol name. “Clasps of bras purchased at The Bristol don’t just snap, Miss Valour. Clasps of bras purchased at The Bristol are made to last. You must have stretched it.”
    “I did not.”
    “Stretched it.”
    “I did—” She sniffed. This was ridiculous. She decided to play her ace. “I will talk to my fiancé about this.”
    “That is most gratifying to hear, Miss Valour,” he said, letting a deft finger slide along a pencil mustache.
    She sneered. “You wouldn’t be smirking like an ape if you knew who my fiancé was, you horrible person.”
    “I’m sure Miss Valour is quite right.”
    She tilted her head in an imperious gesture that always did much to make her enemies wilt. It didn’t seem to put a dent in the manager’s armor, though. “I’m marrying Reece Hudson. You might have heard of him?”
    The manager lifted a brow. “I have and I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Valour.”
    She was gratified to find that, as usual, the mention of her fiancé’s name inspired awe and respect. “You should be sorry. My fiancé will have your job for this.”
    The manager lifted the other brow. “I meant to say I’m sorry for the gentleman, Miss Valour.”
    The