Shift Burn (Imogene Museum Mystery #6) Read Online Free Page A

graying temples and modest paunch, I guessed that was at least thirty years ago and turned to gaze at the smoke billowing like thunderclouds on the horizon where a twice-in-a-lifetime series of fires raged. No wonder everyone was on edge.
    The combination of the heat, smoky air and the fact that the next day was a regular working Monday kept people from lingering too long. While Platts Landing enjoys a good shindig, most folks have families and responsibilities that don’t allow for staying up until the wee hours.
    The women retrieved their serving dishes and utensils from the food tables while the men folded blankets, collapsed lawn chairs and rounded up children.
    A tiny, blue-veined hand perched on my arm. “Sweetie, I have leftovers.”
    I turned to look down — way down — into the sharp, almost black eyes of Mae Brock. She balanced a foil-covered casserole dish on her hip.
    One paper-thin eyelid slid halfway down over her left eye, and she cracked a sly grin.
    Was she winking at me? I plastered a smile on my face.
    “I know you won’t be having much time for cooking in the next day or two, and I certainly couldn’t eat all this by myself.” Mae thrust the pan at me. “Pork sausage and stuffing casserole — used to be my Sherman’s favorite. Hopefully your new husband will last longer. My Sherman died of colon cancer just after his fifty-first birthday.”
    I grabbed the heavy pan before she dropped it. It might have weighed more than she did. I peeked under the tin foil — at the untouched crushed cornflake surface. Sally must have broadcast the secret warning to all of the attendees in time — or enough people had had previous experience with Mae’s cooking to spread the word organically.
    “That’ll put some meat on your bones.” With startling strength Mae gave my backside a resounding smack, exacerbated by the taut satin hugging my curves — apparently where she thought the meat should go. I winced. She tottered off, cackling.
    “Is this something I should know about?” Pete’s voice, low and husky, sent tingles up my spine.
    I whirled around to face him and found that he was struggling, unsuccessfully, not to laugh.
    “You carry it.” I pushed the pan into his arms, then leaned in, whispering, “We’ll throw the casserole away then wash her dish and send a thank you note back with it.”
    “I don’t know. I might like more meat on your bones.” Pete’s eyes sparkled in the way that makes my knees turn to jelly as he tried to take another peek over my shoulder at my backside.
    I pinched him.
    “You’re perfect, you know,” he murmured.
    “Actually, I’m not. But it’s too late. You’re stuck now.” I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his neck and planted a juicy kiss on his lips.
    A throat cleared behind me, and Alex stood there, a small, apologetic smile on his face. “Your mother and I are leaving now.”
    Pete and I spread the hugs around and helped bundle them in their new-to-them used Camry — part of their strict austerity measures adopted in order to recover from my mother’s gambling addiction.
    I reached through the open passenger window and squeezed Mom’s hand. “Call me.”
    “In a few days. I’ll give the two of you a little space just now.” She tipped her head toward the driver’s side where Pete and Alex were having a conversation, her smile widening. “But, yes, I will. Feeling better — about the future?”
    I exhaled, as least as much as I could in the dress, and nodded. “You were right, as usual.” I glanced up and caught Pete’s eye over the top of the car. We shared a grin.
    “Take the dress off as soon as possible,” Mom whispered. “You’re getting hives.”
    I jerked back and glanced down at my chest. Sure enough, red welts spread across my upper torso and onto my arms. I groaned. From the itchy prickles also tormenting my less visible parts, I was pretty sure the hives were running rampant.
    “It’s the heat and the lace and