Summer Reading is Killing Me (Phee Jefferson Book 2) by Amy E. Lilly

could
you introduce me to the Senator?” Mrs. Lassiter could be my entrance into Camp
Campbell.
    “It’s not a problem. I’m calling his mother now.
She’s retired to Florida to an old folk’s home where the nurses make you do
senior chair aerobics and all sorts of foolishness. You won’t catch me dead in
a place like that,” she said firmly. “I plan on dying in my own home.”
    “Don’t talk like that, Mrs. Lassiter. I don’t want
anything to happen to you,” I insisted. She might be prickly, but I loved her.
I grew teary-eyed thinking of her gone.
    “You’re a sweet girl, Phee .
A good girl. Settle down and marry that young man. I want to hold your children
on my lap before I leave this world,” Mrs. Lassiter said as she patted me on my
hand. “I think I’ll lie down for a nap after I call Kitty Campbell. It will
take all my energy to deal with this evening’s service.”
    “I’ll see you tonight,” I said and walked down her
porch steps. On my way back to my house, I considered my wardrobe choices for
the evening. What did one wear to a memorial service and an interrogation of a
senator? I didn’t know, but I bet no book on etiquette ever addressed this
fashion dilemma.
    I fixed myself a salad for dinner, then dived into
my closet to look for an outfit. Thirty minutes later, I decided a black
sleeveless dress with flat sandals and pearls fit the bill. If Nancy Drew
lived, she would adore my outfit. I tried to channel her spirit and style, but
Miss Marple was the only one who answered. Large
frumpy hats and Peter Pan collars wouldn’t cut it this evening.
    “Hello! Pheeble Mind!
Are you here?” Juliet called.
    I wanted to travel back in time and tell my
parents to please pick another name, any name, other than Ophelia. My nicknames
ranged from Flea, PheePhee , Oph ,
and now this latest addition, Pheeble Mind. I
silently praised Carrie every day for choosing Zoe and Samuel for the twins’
names.
    “No one by that name lives here. If you’re looking
for the amazing, the beautiful, the brilliant Super Librarian, then here I am,”
I responded. I walked out of my bedroom strutting like a Paris runway model.
“Don’t hate. Just appreciate.”
    Juliet whistled. “You look good for someone going
to a memorial service in the park. What’s up with the fancy duds?”
    “This isn’t fancy. If you owned anything besides
yoga pants and blue jeans, you would realize I am simply wearing an appropriate
frock for fraternizing with Senator Campbell. Mrs. Lassiter said she would
introduce me to him tonight at the service. She went to college with his
mother, Kitty Campbell,” I informed Juliet. “While I’m schmoozing with the
bigwigs, you can get close to Jay and see what you can find out from him.”
    “Great. I get the dirty artist and you meet a
senator. Why do I always get stuck with the grungy guys?” Juliet pouted.
    “Really? You dated a man for two months who lived
in a tent and made his living singing on a street corner begging for change.
You don’t even own a pair of heels. You have a tattoo of a polar bear on your
behind from one date with Tattoo Bob. Do I need to continue?” I had plenty more
dating disaster scenarios from Juliet’s life.
    Juliet bared her teeth at me and meowed. “Catty
much? I did those things when I was young and dumb. I’ve matured.”
    “It was two years ago. Case closed. Do not pass
go. Do not collect two hundred dollars,” I informed her.
    “Fine. Wade’s good for me. He civilizes and calms
my inner wild child,” Juliet said. She plopped onto my couch and kicked off her
flip flops. She rested her feet on my coffee table. I glared at the offending
electric blue polished toenails.
    “I found out something interesting today. It
involves crime, doing time, and the reporter Tessa Brewer,” I said as I sat
primly on the other side of the sofa and inspected my nails. I whistled and
waited.
    “What? I want to hear all about it,” Juliet
dropped her feet from