Bound To Be Dead: Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3 Tamra Baumann (new books to read txt) 📖

He salutes. “You got it, Sailor. See you tomorrow.”

The Admiral stands and makes his way to the door. After he’s gone, Madge says, “I’ll do a little digging into his assigned things too. Just in case. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Dylan will leave some better clues for us to find tomorrow as well. He’s been a mess all afternoon.”

I’m not upset to hear that. “You know, don’t you?”

Madge pours us both more wine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Was it your idea for Dylan to break up with me? And to make me miss him?”

Madge runs a thumb and forefinger across her lips like a zipper. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy by him when it comes to you.”

She’s like a big sister to Dylan, and he tells her everything. “Okay. Then how about another question. Why hasn’t Dylan shown me the house he’s building?”

“No can do. That still involves you. Hopefully. I better run before I drink too much wine and slip up.” She sets her almost-full glass down. “But he loves you, Sawyer. That much has always been true. Night.”

“Good night.” I take another sip of wine as I let my mind wander over the information we dug up tonight. Then a horrible thought hits, so I pick up my phone.

When Dad answers, I ask, “Did you have lunch with Tina on the day she died?”

He replies, “Of course. It was the gentlemanly thing to do because she was going to help out in the show. Luckily, she’s a light eater, so it didn’t cost me too much.”

That sick feeling is creeping back into my gut again. “What did she order?”

My dad says, “A small chef salad.”

I drop my head into my hands and moan. “And the stew continues to thicken. Or perhaps salad in this case.”

Chapter 10

Early Wednesday morning, I’m drinking coffee in the kitchen with a heavy heart. Our meeting with Brittany’s mother looms like a thick fog. I’m trying to form a game plan to keep Brittany here when my sister strolls in and, thankfully, puts an end to my musings. Meg’s wearing the same sweats she wore the day before, and her dark hair is a rat’s nest. I’ve never seen her so disheveled. Am I going to have to start worrying about her now too?

I fake a smile. “Want some coffee?”

“Boy, do I.” Meg slides into the nook across from me and takes a long drink from my mug.

“That was getting a little cold anyway.” I slip out of the booth and pour myself some more liquid energy.

“Oh, was this yours?” Meg sets the mug down. “I’m sorry. I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” I sit across from Meg again. “Have you heard from Lance and the kids?”

“No.” Tears form in Meg’s eyes. “It’s the longest Lance and I have ever gone without speaking to each other. He must be furious this time.”

I lay a hand over my sister’s. “Or he doesn’t have cell service. Isn’t that one of the reasons you didn’t go? So you could stay in touch with the hospital?”

“Yeah. And I’ve had to put out a fire a day so far.” Little lines form on Meg’s forehead as she takes another slug of coffee. “But my partners would’ve handled things if I hadn’t left instructions to call, I suppose. Maybe I should’ve gone camping.”

“You’d have been miserable with worry about your patients. And then no one would’ve had fun.” I squeeze Meg’s hand. “I bet Lance and the kids are missing you as much as you’re missing them. Maybe when they get back, you can promise to be better about turning off your phone when you’re not on call.” Meg’s patients are lucky to have her, but her kids and Lance need to know they matter too.

“Good plan. I need to do that. Thanks, Sawyer.” She finishes her stolen cup of coffee, then says, “Now that we have a scheme to save me, what are we going to do about you?”

I huff out a breath. “I’m much more concerned about Dad going to jail and Brittany leaving to live with a pack of thieves than I am about myself.”

“We’ll need to eventually get back to you, but for now, I agree those two are both pressing matters. Hopefully, you and Madge will find something to help Dad today in Monterey. But I’ve been thinking about what’s best for Brittany.” Meg stands to refill her mug. “Remember when you told Mom you were going to live with Dad on the road full-time? And that you’d done the research, and she couldn’t stop you?”

“Yep.” Not one of my proudest moments. “I’m sure I hurt Mom’s feelings.”

Meg nods. “Imagine her horror at the idea of you growing up at state fairs, carnivals, and dingy theaters. She’d had enough of that life the minute I was born. She wanted better for us.”

“I know.” Guilt makes me cringe. “But Mom had my backpack and a sack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches ready before I could even brush my teeth that morning. She gave me a kiss and then shoved me out the door.”

Meg smiles. “Yes, but then she cried for a week straight. She knew forbidding you to go would be like throwing gasoline on a fire. You’re as stubborn as they come. Brittany takes after you in that department.”

I shake my head. “But this is different. Telling Brittany to go live with people who have a history of breaking the law isn’t the same as me living with Dad for a few weeks until I begged to come home.”

“Really?” Meg laughs. “Who was it who had us practice our sleight of hand skills at the fruit stand? Dad has never paid for an apple in his life. We both know he’s no saint.”

That’s true. I hated when my father would pull expensive toys out of the secret