off, did you?”
“Of course not. And I didn’t mean to read it but it was flashing a message in large letters.”
I got nervous, as did Nick, I could see. It wouldn’t be good if Paisley learned an ugly truth about her own past from an FBI database.
“What does it say?” Nick asked.
Paisley shrugged. “‘Too many variables. Narrow search criteria.’”
Nick sipped his coffee. “I’ll try that later. Thanks.”
And I thought, No more FBI database searches from this house.
Quick change of subject. “Eve and Paisley are planning a ‘Welcome to Mystick Falls’ party for Paisley, to which they will invite mostly eligible bachelors for Paisley to choose from. We’ll have it here.”
Nick chuckled. “Paisley, when it comes to men, Eve will be your biggest competition.”
“No kidding?” Paisley said. “I could have told you that just by looking at her.”
Eve grinned. “You haven’t looked at yourself in a mirrorlately, have you? Get Madeira to pick the right clothing style, or era, for you, and wait for the swarm.”
“Who made this luscious quiche?” I asked, floating to heaven.
“I did,” Paisley said. “I aced sewing and cooking.”
Eve yipped. “Oh, girl, we have got to get you into the dinner and dancing world. You sound too much like a fifties housewife.”
“That’s the point of a bachelor party in her honor,” I said. “Paisley, Eve will teach you how to play hard to get while reeling them in.”
Nick choked on his cinnamon bun. I got up, thumped him on the back a few times, and finally gave him a good whack. “Whew, I thought I’d have to perform the Heimlich. You okay, Nick?”
“Eve never played hard to get in her life!”
“I did with you.”
“Like I tried.”
I went around the table, to the opposite side of the room from the giant stand-in cooking fireplace, headed for the keeping room stairs.
“Where’re you going?” Nick yelled
“To take a shower and dress.”
“Wait, I’ll help.” He caught me halfway up.
In the keeping room, Eve faked a gagging sound. “Too much in-for-MA-tion .”
Paisley giggled.
When we got to Vintage Magic, the placed was hopping, butnot in a good way, considering the police cars and ambulance in the parking lot.
“Mom,” Eve shouted as she jumped from my Element before I came to a full stop.
“I hope Eve’s mom is okay,” Paisley said as we went in.
Olga Meyers was fine. Ethel Sweet, not so much. “What’s wrong, Ethel?” I asked as Werner jotted down some notes.
“A missing persons case, Madeira,” Werner said. “We think Dolly disappeared last night .”
“That’s not possible,” I said.
Dante, the ghost only I could see, postured in the background, his charade an Emmy-worthy performance of “I told you so’s!”
“What?” I asked. “Did she run away from home? Because she couldn’t have been kidnapped. She’d kill anyone who came near her.”
“No,” Ethel said, removing her oxygen mask to speak, “last time I saw her, she was sitting in the basement, reading some old papers from her brother’s photography studio. Next thing, it’s morning and I find a note in the kitchen, but she writes too tiny for me to read, even with my glasses, so I brought it here for you to read, Mad. Frankly, I thought I’d find Momma here with you. But Olga had to read it to me.”
Olga, Eve’s mother, nodded and handed me the note.
I read it. “She’s gone on the Las Vegas trip with the seniorcitizens. Last-minute decision. Well, there you go,” I said, mostly for Dante’s benefit.
Werner bent to her. “May I search your basement, Mrs. Sweet? I presume I don’t need a warrant.”
“No,” she said. “You need my key. Mad, give him the house key from my purse.”
Ethel watched and waited until I did so before she continued, “Olga called the woman who runs the senior center. She said Dolly’s not with them.”
“That can’t be good,” Paisley said. “How old did you say she was?”
“A
“Of course not. And I didn’t mean to read it but it was flashing a message in large letters.”
I got nervous, as did Nick, I could see. It wouldn’t be good if Paisley learned an ugly truth about her own past from an FBI database.
“What does it say?” Nick asked.
Paisley shrugged. “‘Too many variables. Narrow search criteria.’”
Nick sipped his coffee. “I’ll try that later. Thanks.”
And I thought, No more FBI database searches from this house.
Quick change of subject. “Eve and Paisley are planning a ‘Welcome to Mystick Falls’ party for Paisley, to which they will invite mostly eligible bachelors for Paisley to choose from. We’ll have it here.”
Nick chuckled. “Paisley, when it comes to men, Eve will be your biggest competition.”
“No kidding?” Paisley said. “I could have told you that just by looking at her.”
Eve grinned. “You haven’t looked at yourself in a mirrorlately, have you? Get Madeira to pick the right clothing style, or era, for you, and wait for the swarm.”
“Who made this luscious quiche?” I asked, floating to heaven.
“I did,” Paisley said. “I aced sewing and cooking.”
Eve yipped. “Oh, girl, we have got to get you into the dinner and dancing world. You sound too much like a fifties housewife.”
“That’s the point of a bachelor party in her honor,” I said. “Paisley, Eve will teach you how to play hard to get while reeling them in.”
Nick choked on his cinnamon bun. I got up, thumped him on the back a few times, and finally gave him a good whack. “Whew, I thought I’d have to perform the Heimlich. You okay, Nick?”
“Eve never played hard to get in her life!”
“I did with you.”
“Like I tried.”
I went around the table, to the opposite side of the room from the giant stand-in cooking fireplace, headed for the keeping room stairs.
“Where’re you going?” Nick yelled
“To take a shower and dress.”
“Wait, I’ll help.” He caught me halfway up.
In the keeping room, Eve faked a gagging sound. “Too much in-for-MA-tion .”
Paisley giggled.
When we got to Vintage Magic, the placed was hopping, butnot in a good way, considering the police cars and ambulance in the parking lot.
“Mom,” Eve shouted as she jumped from my Element before I came to a full stop.
“I hope Eve’s mom is okay,” Paisley said as we went in.
Olga Meyers was fine. Ethel Sweet, not so much. “What’s wrong, Ethel?” I asked as Werner jotted down some notes.
“A missing persons case, Madeira,” Werner said. “We think Dolly disappeared last night .”
“That’s not possible,” I said.
Dante, the ghost only I could see, postured in the background, his charade an Emmy-worthy performance of “I told you so’s!”
“What?” I asked. “Did she run away from home? Because she couldn’t have been kidnapped. She’d kill anyone who came near her.”
“No,” Ethel said, removing her oxygen mask to speak, “last time I saw her, she was sitting in the basement, reading some old papers from her brother’s photography studio. Next thing, it’s morning and I find a note in the kitchen, but she writes too tiny for me to read, even with my glasses, so I brought it here for you to read, Mad. Frankly, I thought I’d find Momma here with you. But Olga had to read it to me.”
Olga, Eve’s mother, nodded and handed me the note.
I read it. “She’s gone on the Las Vegas trip with the seniorcitizens. Last-minute decision. Well, there you go,” I said, mostly for Dante’s benefit.
Werner bent to her. “May I search your basement, Mrs. Sweet? I presume I don’t need a warrant.”
“No,” she said. “You need my key. Mad, give him the house key from my purse.”
Ethel watched and waited until I did so before she continued, “Olga called the woman who runs the senior center. She said Dolly’s not with them.”
“That can’t be good,” Paisley said. “How old did you say she was?”
“A
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