By Mary Daheim
On the market: luxurious Condos, Corpse incorporated only a stone's throw from Judith McMonigle Flynn's thriving Hillside Manor, workmen are busy renovating the elegantly decrepit Alhambra palms into dear condominiums. yet involved contractor George Guthrie fears that well-heeled capability purchasers may well blanch after they find out about the four-decades-dead physique that was once stashed at the back of the crumbling partitions of the moldy manse. And ever-inquisitive Judith's discovery of a few even more fresh is still at the premises threatens to se estate values in the course of the floorboards--and Guthrie throughout the roof! either her expert detective husband Joe and her partner-in-crime fixing cousin Renie imagine Judith is bonkers to suspect that the 2 killings are attached. however, Judith's able to construct a powerful case to that impression -- except a few homicidal an individual comes to a decision to deconstruct her first!
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Extra info for A Streetcar Named Expire
She whispered as Renie waited between the swinging doors. Renie shrugged. “Nobody’s talking. About that, I mean,” she added cryptically. Curious, as well as upset, Judith followed Renie into the entry hall, where two uniformed ofﬁcers stood outside the near door to the front parlor. That, she realized, was not a good sign. The primaries— the plainclothes detectives—would be waiting inside. Then again, maybe it was the bunco squad, investigating a hoax. Judith squared her wide shoulders and went into the parlor, which suddenly seemed more ominous than cozy.
I wanted to see Jeremy Lamar so I could tell him to lay off my B&B before I took him to court. I tracked him down, but I didn’t make it in time to the elevator. I saw that he got out on the third ﬂoor, so I did, too. The door to the unit where I found Mrs. Carrabas was open. I went in to see if Jeremy was there, but he wasn’t. Instead . . ” Judith hung her head. Reality was setting in, and she didn’t much like what she felt. Sick. Stupid. Still incredulous. ” Woody asked in his soft, melliﬂuous voice.
She waved the Scotch bottle at the cleaning woman. ” Phyliss recoiled, hands in front of her face. “You’re doomed, Mrs. Jones, and you’re taking poor Mrs. ” “Let’s hope it’s a big handcart if we’re going to hell in it,” Renie said, handing Judith her drink and sitting down at the kitchen table. Phyliss ripped off her apron and glowered at Judith. “I quit. I can’t work in a house where Beelzebub reigns. Good-bye, Mrs. ” “Good-bye, Phyliss,” Judith said. ” Renie watched Phyliss ﬂounce out through the back door.