Veiled in Death. Stephanie Blackmoore

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СКАЧАТЬ slip of paper receipt that had once nestled safely within the bag.

      “How convenient, Mallory, dear.” Helene gave a toss of her head, her icy eyes positively dancing with mirth.

      This time it was Bev who laid a steadying hand on my arm. I swallowed and urged myself to stay cool. The only thing keeping me from losing it was sending up a silent prayer of thanks that I’d had the good fortune and sense to not marry Helene’s son, Keith. I finally noticed the growing chatter around me. The crowd of early morning shoppers and walkers had grown. They clutched their iced coffees, scones, and donuts as if waiting for us to deliver a reality-show-worthy cat fight.

      “Truman, we have a copy of the receipt.” Claudia’s bell-like voice cut through the whispers as she emerged from the Antique Emporium with a restorative whoosh of cold air.

      I couldn’t suppress a giggle as I took in her getup. She must have started changing out of her reenactment gear when this melee went down. She wore bright turquoise capris with an embroidered pineapple pattern atop pretty melon-colored espadrilles. But her top half was still cloaked in a homespun shirt and rough-woven brown jacket, her tricorn hat still pinned on, but knocked askew. She looked like a time traveler caught in a comical mid-change back to the future. Claudia was Helene’s adversary, and now my knight in shining armor.

      Er, make that colonial-era garb.

      “See? We sold it to Mallory and Bev.” Claudia stopped to draw in a breath. She was feisty and in good health, but this kerfuffle seemed to have rattled the septuagenarian. “Excuse me, I’m a bit out of breath. I haven’t run out that door this fast in years. But it’ll be good practice for when I rush the field this weekend.” She couldn’t resist shooting Helene a little smile with her dig. Then she nearly doubled over and stifled a wheeze. She finally righted herself and laid a slip of yellow paper into Truman’s still-outstretched palm. “I gave them the top copy of the receipt.”

      The chief scanned the paper with keen hazel eyes. I blinked and realized with a start that Garrett was a near carbon-copy of his father, just twenty-five years his junior.

      “She just made that up!” Helene’s composure dissolved in a screech.

      “Oh, give me a break.” I was glad I hadn’t had a chance to don my sunglasses, the better for Helene to see my displeasure with her with a mighty eye roll.

      “It’s time-stamped seven minutes ago.” Truman glanced at the crowd and sighed. “I really don’t think this is a tough one to solve. This seems to be the end of the matter.” He handed the storekeeper’s yellow copy of the receipt to Claudia and laid his upturned hand out again, this time before Helene.

      “Relinquish the veil.”

      Helene’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull at Truman’s demand. “I. Will. Not. And you of all people, Truman, should understand why.” Helene jammed the delicate lace into Truman’s face. He took a protective step back. But he couldn’t hide the flinch that slipped out when he got a closer look at the veil.

      Huh?

      Before I had time to process that puzzling exchange, the door to the Antique Emporium flew open again. Out streamed Pia and June, the latter expertly wielding a mint-condition Louisville Slugger. She’d no doubt nabbed the baseball bat from her stock.

      “Easy there, June,” Truman cautioned.

      June ignored the chief and directed her ire at Helene. “I was captain and the best hitter for the Quincy College softball team, class of 1978.” Her voice carried down the sidewalk as the small crowd of curious onlookers grew. I was more shocked at her outburst than anything. June was expertly persuasive in her store, but never pushy. If anything, the reedy redhead was serene and calm as she moved through her kingdom of antique treasures. This was a side of her I never expected to see. Her assertiveness mixed with her normally willowy, patrician air was strange to see.

      Truman cleared his throat to stifle a laugh. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you, June.”

      I saw Pia relax by a degree. She had been hovering behind her mother, looking ready to spring into action and restrain her if necessary.

      “We found the veil in the store this morning.” June seemed to come to her senses and let the thick wooden bat drop to her side. She’d win Truman over with reason instead of subduing Helene with threatened force.

      A dawning look of realization seemed to steal over Truman’s face, but it was fleeting. I began to doubt I’d even seen it.

      “This is ludicrous. Mallory and I bought this veil, fair and square. We found it in a—”

      But Bev was cut off by a nearly frantic Pia, who I now realized had baby Miri strapped to her front in the carrier.

      “You’re saying too much, Bev.” Pia’s gimlet green eyes, so like her sister Tabitha’s, were wide with caution.

      “Pia, she’s just setting the record straight.”June was a bit exasperated with her daughter.

      “Mom, you need to stop talking, too.” Pia was firm, issuing her mother a demand.

      June was shocked enough to be quiet. She seemed to realize her mistake and instead sent her daughter a grateful look.

      I gave the young woman a shrewd glance. She’d make a fair attorney, in addition to her event-planning skills. Her instincts to keep our facts and case close to the vest in front of Helene were savvy and sound. No one should give Helene anything that she could later use to claim the veil was hers. June clammed up for good, but not before she mouthed a silent thank-you to her daughter.

      All was still under the now oppressive sun. The small crowd began to buzz again with pent-up energy. Truman once more held out his hand.

      “The veil, Helene.”

      The reigning queen bee of Port Quincy looked up and down the street in thought. She took in the gaggle of looky-loos and shuddered. She mounted one last attempt to keep the veil in her possession. “I think you need to keep it at headquarters, Truman, or better yet, neutral grounds.” She fluttered her thin lashes. “A place like my bank safe-deposit box. Just until this matter is cleared up.” Her plea came out in a desperate sputter.

      Truman raised an eyebrow and looked irritated. He waited a beat and instead chose to laugh at her gall. “The idea that our police headquarters is not neutral is hysterical.”

      Helene went for the jugular. Her icy gaze swept over me. I suppressed an incongruous shiver in the now-glaring sunlight.

      “It appears we’re witnessing some regrettable, but predictable favoritism.” Helene’s spine grew ramrod straight for this speech. The crowd quieted. “Mallory here is engaged to Chief Truman’s son, as you all know.” Helene gave a pitiful and staged sigh. “I think the town of Port Quincy should know you can never get a fair shake if you go against Truman Davies’s near and dear.” She sent a sinister smile my way.

      You wretched woman.

      This time I felt the steadying touch of both Bev and Claudia on either arm. Their presence barely kept me from lashing out at Helene. Truman was used to such claims and better able to brush them off. He seemed genuinely amused.

      “That’s so preposterous, I can’t even get riled up, Helene.” Truman almost patted her arm, then СКАЧАТЬ