Game of Gravestones Read Online Gena Showalter

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
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“You wait here while I make us some coffee,” she said. “If you share what secret activities Beau has been up to lately, I’ll whip you up a nice breakfast, too. All the fixings. Homemade biscuits and sausage gravy. Chicken fried steak with a fried egg topper. Buttermilk pancakes with a frosted butter glaze.”

He groaned. “I want to tell you. You have no idea how badly I want to tell you, but he’s my friend and I won’t betray his confidence. Surely my loyalty earns a biscuit with gravy? Or a casserole for lunch later?”

“You are too cute,” she told him with a sincere smile. “You are absolutely going to make someone very happy one day—something I’m willing to help you with as soon as my schedule opens up. But no answers, no casserole. I don’t make the rules, I just abide by them. Now go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

The handsome Trick wilted, appearing shredded into a million pieces.

Merciless, Jane hurried off and started the coffee pot. Once she’d passed the security expert a brimming thermos, she saw him out. She only laughed a little when he cast a longing glance toward the kitchen.

After grabbing the photos and her phone, she headed to her room, where Rolex waited. He lounged on the bed, licking one of his paws. Probably delighting in the taste of his enemy’s flesh.

Jane spent the next five minutes petting him for his adorableness and also texting.

Beau received a nice thank you for the photos and a thumbs down for his secretiveness. She ignored the reporter and her all caps message. She told both of her clients she had several promising leads, then requested the two send her an exact accounting of their activities during the party—a test of sorts. Would they tell the truth or lie? While watching the security footage, she’d taken detailed notes; as soon as their explanations came in, she could do a timestamped comparison.

Conrad…she didn’t text again. He would only charm her, and she was now pressed for time. Kind of. Maybe? In only four scant hours—hardly any time at all in the scheme of things—she was supposed to meet with Hagger. And she definitely needed to whip up a batch of cupcakes for the receptionist, Mrs. Butterfield.

Once Jane finished with the attorney, she could visit Dr. Price. According to his website, walk-ins were welcome. Or maybe she’d see Dr. Garcia. Or both! Then, she would finally, at long last, go on that date with her special agent.

She gulped. Well. Guess Conrad didn’t need to text to charm and distract her, after all.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“If you’re afraid of failure, you’ve already failed.”

Devin Hagger Esquire, attorney at law

Wearing a professional split-neck dress of multi-hued sapphire paired with a delightful cloche bucket hat and holding a foil pan lined with cupcakes, Jane soared into the offices of Hagger, Hagger and Miller. Today, she meant business.

Thanks to her last visit here, when she’d met with Tony to discuss the other murder investigation, she knew the receptionist possessed a sweet tooth.

As she strode deeper into the room, purse swinging at her side, she scanned the fourth story of the most exclusive office building in town. Nothing had changed. Shiny walnut walls, white marble floors and ceiling high bookshelves stuffed with rows of law books. Not one fun thing. Not even a plant.

A reception counter formed a large half circle up ahead, a candle burning on each end, filling the air with the scent of cranberry-vanilla cookies. She breathed deep. As a nod to the fall season, a cluster of wicker pumpkins dominated the counter’s center.

The thin-lipped Mrs. Sharon Butterfield commanded the area. She’d slicked her graying hair into a tight bun. Not a single flyaway strand in sight.

Jane approached with a smile and placed the pan between them. “Hello, Ms. Butterfield. I did some baking this morning and thought you might enjoy my maple pecan cupcakes with a powered sugar glaze. Here’s a dozen.”

A phone rang. Ms. Butterfield glanced up from her typing. Frowning, she held up an index finger, then picked up the receiver. “Hagger, Hagger and Miller,” she said with zero inflection of emotion. She also set the gift next to her keyboard and peeked under the lid.

The matron had been equally cool in the past, when Jane had visited Tony. But no matter. She expected to win the woman over at some point.

Mrs. Butterfield engaged in a short, choppy conversation, then hung up and motioned to the door at her left. “Go on back, Miss Ladling. End of the hall. Mr. Hagger is expecting you.”

“Thank you. And Mrs. Butterfield? I’m really sorry about your loss.” Whether or not the receptionist had liked Tony didn’t matter. One of her bosses had been murdered. A travesty any way you sliced it.

“Oh. Yes. Well.” A bit flustered now, the older woman patted her hair. “He’s certainly missed. By some of us, anyway.” She pushed the final words through clenched teeth.


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