Larceny and Lace Read Online Free

then?”"
    “"But it was.”" She looked over there, as did I, but the loiterer had vanished. “"Never mind,”" she quipped. “"I’'ll beat him up later.”" Suspecting that her Vinney might be my intruder didn’'t count for much with no proof or motive behind it. “"You’'re a keeper, Meyers,”" I said. “"And don’'t you forget it.”"
    “"Yeah, yeah. What about Dolly? Is she coming to see the secret room?”"
    “"She’'s not up to it tonight. I’'ll bring her tomorrow.”" Eve ran a hand through her hair, leaving the short, ebony spikes in fashionable disarray. “"For a hundred and three years old, Dolly sure gets around. I wanna be her when I grow up.”"
    Eve glanced at her diver’'s watch, then picked up Chakra, one-handed. “"Hi, baby girl.”" Chakra and Eve were pals. “"Probably past Dolly’'s bedtime, anyway,”" Eve added.
    “"True.”"
    Dolly Sweet and the late Dante Underhill had been lovers, mid-twentieth century, a huge secret that everybody in Mystick Falls knew, even before he left her his building and his fortune.
    Dolly was dying to see Dante again.
    Five I want to do my best to take care of the planet by designing with recycled and eco-friendly materials. I think we all have to start with what we know . . . I design clothing, so I figured I’'d start there.
    —--DEBORAH LINDQUIST
    “"I’'ll bet this place was beautiful in Dolly’'s day,”" Eve said examining my building, known for years by the locals as “"the Shack.”" As of last month: “"Maddie’'s Shack.”"
    “"Hell, I’'ll bet Dolly was beautiful in Dolly’'s day,”" she added, taking another sip of her coffee.
    “"Beauty-pageant beautiful.”" I’'d seen her wedding pictures. “"But, Eve, you should know that I thought this place was beautiful when we were kids.”" She spewed a mouthful of coffee my way.
    I jumped back in time to save my Prada blouse, pencil skirt, and spikes, but not my rare Lucite box bag.
    “"Watch it,”" I said. “"This is a valuable collectible.”" I wiped it with my napkin.
    “"Sorry.”" Eve chuckled as she dabbed coffee off the protesting Chakra. “"Speaking of collectibles—--not. Here comes Jaconetti.”"
    Nick’'s refurbished military surplus Humvee had alerted us both to his approach before he turned the corner.
    “"Good thing he makes his own fuel for that guzzler,”" Eve said, wincing at the sound.
    “"The bio-diesel? Yes,”" I said over the roar as he drove into my parking lot and took up two parking spaces. “"He makes it in his garage with used French fry oil and a couple of reagents. Imagine. Very eco-friendly.”"
    “"That’'s me,”" Nick said. “"You’'re eco-friendly, too, ladybug. You recycle clothes.”" He swooped in for a hell-lo kiss and communicated the added longing that went with a good-bye. A kiss, very well executed. Gentle but hungry. Respectable, yet French. Nick and I shared a long-standing relationship built on a white-hot charge of spontaneous combustion and a mutual fear of catching fire.
    I could live with that.
    Eve could not. She faked a gag.
    Nick pulled from the kiss and gave her his “"Evie eye.”" She shook a finger his way. “"You get five points for fuel conservation, Boy Toy, and minus ten for noise pollution.”"
    Nick shook his head. “"Love you, too, Meyers.”"
    I chuckled, leaned into him, and noticed, in one of my upstairs windows, Dante crossing his arms and frowning down on us.
    Hah, a jealous ghost. What a spook.
    A minute later, I spotted Dad’'s six-year-old Volvo, and behind him, Aunt Fiona in her 1963 Corvette Sting Ray. The ultrarare one with the split window. I wasn’'t sure what the original color might have been, but sunshine over the years had mellowed it to a warm purplish red.
    I surmised that her car was one of two reasons why she and Dad didn’'t get along. One: she and my mother were witches together, which/witch Dad would rather forget and didn’'t know I knew. And two: Aunt Fiona owned a car that