Miz Scarlet and the Holiday Houseguests (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery #3) by Sara M. Barton

tonight, but she said no.” The teenager
pointed a thumb at her mother.
    “Michaela, I explained to you why I
needed you here at the Four Acorns Inn tonight. I don’t do it to be
mean.” Larry sounded almost petulant, disappointed by her
daughter’s reaction.
    “Yeah, I know. You’ve got a stiff in
the morgue. I get it.” Was that resignation I heard in the
teenager’s voice? Things were definitely off-kilter at the Rivera
house.
    “Any reason why I can’t take her to the
mall?” Bur wanted to know, even as the homicide cop attempted to
make a quick exit out the front door of the inn. Did my brother
just offer to drive a teenager across town, fight traffic, and hang
out during the busy holiday madness less than a week before
Christmas? He must be trying hard to get into Larry’s good graces.
It occurred to me he might be trying to snag a date for the big New
Year’s Eve party we were hosting.
    “Ah....” Larry hesitated long enough
for me to realize she hadn’t completely shaken her concerns about
being followed. Oddly enough, Bur seemed to pick up on
it.
    “I promise I’ll remain in the mall at
all times.”
    “Let me guess,” said the experienced
investigator. “You two worked this out before you walked
in.”
    “Please, Mom?” As I watched the
tension-fraught mother-daughter negotiations, I was struck by how
much Michaela resembled Larry, especially around the eyes. Thirty
pounds lighter and two or three inches shorter, the
fourteen-year-old was a chip off the block. When she grew into her
adult body and the braces came off her teeth, she’d be every bit
the knockout her mother was.
    “I don’t know....” Larry was reluctant
to say yes.
    “I swear I’ll bring her home in one
piece,” he added. “Scout’s honor.”
    “You’d better, Bur Wilson. It’s not a
matter of ‘you break it, you buy it’. I wouldn’t want to be
arrested so close to Christmas.”
    “Arrested?” He seemed baffled as he
stood there. “Why would you be arrested if something happened to
Michaela?”
    “Because I’d kill you,” she replied,
making her point in rather dramatic fashion. “Nobody messes with my
kid.”
    “Right. Got it. What did you want to
talk to me about?” he asked, changing the subject.
    “Oh, that. I...I just wanted to make
sure you can pick my dad up at the airport tomorrow.”
    “Sure, no problem.”
    “No problem? Are you kidding?” Mickey
giggled.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Bur
wanted to know.
    “Seriously? You think my grandfather is
going to get into your car?” Mickey thought that was hilarious. “No
way!’
    “Of course. Why wouldn’t he?” I saw the
mental fog that overtook him and I winced. My brother, the baseball
nut, had a New York Yankees decal on his back window.
    “There’s something I should probably
mention....” Larry began to say, but her daughter cut
in.
    “Big Larry will take a chunk out of you
if you’ve got that nasty thing on your window. He might even take a
baseball bat to the glass.”
    “Nasty thing?” repeated the clueless
Yankees fan.
    “Michaela!” Larry warned her
daughter.
    “What?” the teenager retorted. “You
know it’s true!”
    “Bur, there’s something you need to
know about Big Larry,” I broke in hurriedly. “He’s a big baseball
nut, too. He’s an assistant coach up in....”
    “Oh, no!” A look of horror came over my
brother’s face. “Please tell me your father is not Larry Rivera,
former center fielder for the Boston Red Sox!”
    There it was, out in the open. For a
long moment, I held my breath, waiting to see what Bur would do
with the knowledge.
    “Leaping Larry the Lawnmower, scourge
of the Yankees....” His eyes traveled over Larry like he was seeing
her for the first time. In a stunned voice, he asked, “Is he your
father?”
    She nodded, watching him cautiously for
a moment or two before she spoke. “Yes. Is that going to be a
problem?”
    “The guy coached his team to victory,
even when