Swann Songs (The Boston Uncommon Mysteries Book 4) by Arlene Kay Page B
Authors: Arlene Kay
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sparred since preschool, so I was conversant with all the signs.
“Things are different now,” he growled. “You`re a married woman with responsibilities.”
“I`m also a writer with a career to consider. True crime sells really well these days.”
He set his jaw in a particularly stubborn pose. My husband, an elegant mule with a fetching chin cleft. “What if I forbid you to get involved?” he said.
“Don`t try it, buster. I`m your equal, not your subject.” I set my cup on the table, calmly and deliberately, and stared him down.
Deming shifted his strategy like the wily lawyer that he was. “I worry about you, don`t you see? Something strange is going on there, and I can`t always be there to protect you. Murder and who knows what else. With Gabriel Mann involved, I really worry. Never did trust that guy.”
I rose, stood on tiptoe, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Don`t worry about Gabriel. By the way Keegan pounced on him, he has enough to contend with. I promise not to take any chances. Besides, your mother will be there most of the time. Tell you what. Let`s discuss it when we go to their place for brunch.”
He wasn`t happy, but Deming knew an olive branch when he saw it. “I guess so,” he grumbled. “I already spoke with Dad, and they expect us at noon.”
“Great. Now, let`s saddle up and run Cato around the Common. You know how the little guy holds a grudge.”
WE DIDN`T GET FAR. Melanie Hunt ambushed us just as we reached the swan boats. She sprang into the pathway, startling two humans and one very focused spaniel. Deming and I reacted better than Cato. We managed a semi-civilized greeting. Cato bared his teeth and charged the interloper.
“Eek!” Melanie screamed. “That dog bit me.”
“Don`t mind him,” I said. “See. It was only a nip. No blood.”
Deming reacted like a lawyer. “Cato was protecting Eja. You really should be more cautious about accosting people.” He helped Melanie to a bench, oozing faux concern. “I`m surprised you aren`t in bed after last night`s shock. Don`t you live all the way over in Wellesley?”
She nodded her perfectly coiffed head and sobbed. “I`m so afraid. Terrified. That policeman—Keegan—has it in for us. Do you know he practically accused me of poisoning Sonia’s spray?”
“Why in the world would he think that?” I braced myself for an uncomfortable scene.
Melanie curled her lip and pointed. “You told him something spiteful about Gabriel and implicated me too. Just because my husband discarded you.”
I fought the urge to slap her silly. Once again, Deming read my mind. He clasped my wrist in a vise and joined the battle using his most supercilious tone.
“You`re wrong, Melanie. My wife has no interest in you or your husband. Gabriel asked for her help with Sonia. I was there myself when he did. Perhaps you should discuss this matter at home.”
Instead of moving, Melanie burst into tears. Her stentorian sobs were enough to draw stares and raise the eyebrows of every passerby. Before long a knot of looky-loos had gathered.
To avoid the camera phones of the curious, Deming angled his body to shield Melanie. Fortunately, the drama-hungry crowd was comprised of tourists who didn`t recognize any of us.
“See here,” Deming said. “Our place is right across the Common. Come back, and we`ll sort things out. Tea, that`s what you need.”
My recipe for the lachrymose lady was far more brutal—a hearty dose of Valium or a kick in the pants. Anything to shut her up. One glimpse of Deming’s film star face did the trick. Melanie clasped his arm, turned down the volume, and meekly followed. Cato and I brought up the rear of the parade.
Our co-op board is a very private, terminally staid group that believes every day is a day of rest. Only the Swann pedigree and money would save us from a blistering reprimand. To make matters worse, Gabriel confronted us outside the lobby door. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and I noticed some
“Things are different now,” he growled. “You`re a married woman with responsibilities.”
“I`m also a writer with a career to consider. True crime sells really well these days.”
He set his jaw in a particularly stubborn pose. My husband, an elegant mule with a fetching chin cleft. “What if I forbid you to get involved?” he said.
“Don`t try it, buster. I`m your equal, not your subject.” I set my cup on the table, calmly and deliberately, and stared him down.
Deming shifted his strategy like the wily lawyer that he was. “I worry about you, don`t you see? Something strange is going on there, and I can`t always be there to protect you. Murder and who knows what else. With Gabriel Mann involved, I really worry. Never did trust that guy.”
I rose, stood on tiptoe, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Don`t worry about Gabriel. By the way Keegan pounced on him, he has enough to contend with. I promise not to take any chances. Besides, your mother will be there most of the time. Tell you what. Let`s discuss it when we go to their place for brunch.”
He wasn`t happy, but Deming knew an olive branch when he saw it. “I guess so,” he grumbled. “I already spoke with Dad, and they expect us at noon.”
“Great. Now, let`s saddle up and run Cato around the Common. You know how the little guy holds a grudge.”
WE DIDN`T GET FAR. Melanie Hunt ambushed us just as we reached the swan boats. She sprang into the pathway, startling two humans and one very focused spaniel. Deming and I reacted better than Cato. We managed a semi-civilized greeting. Cato bared his teeth and charged the interloper.
“Eek!” Melanie screamed. “That dog bit me.”
“Don`t mind him,” I said. “See. It was only a nip. No blood.”
Deming reacted like a lawyer. “Cato was protecting Eja. You really should be more cautious about accosting people.” He helped Melanie to a bench, oozing faux concern. “I`m surprised you aren`t in bed after last night`s shock. Don`t you live all the way over in Wellesley?”
She nodded her perfectly coiffed head and sobbed. “I`m so afraid. Terrified. That policeman—Keegan—has it in for us. Do you know he practically accused me of poisoning Sonia’s spray?”
“Why in the world would he think that?” I braced myself for an uncomfortable scene.
Melanie curled her lip and pointed. “You told him something spiteful about Gabriel and implicated me too. Just because my husband discarded you.”
I fought the urge to slap her silly. Once again, Deming read my mind. He clasped my wrist in a vise and joined the battle using his most supercilious tone.
“You`re wrong, Melanie. My wife has no interest in you or your husband. Gabriel asked for her help with Sonia. I was there myself when he did. Perhaps you should discuss this matter at home.”
Instead of moving, Melanie burst into tears. Her stentorian sobs were enough to draw stares and raise the eyebrows of every passerby. Before long a knot of looky-loos had gathered.
To avoid the camera phones of the curious, Deming angled his body to shield Melanie. Fortunately, the drama-hungry crowd was comprised of tourists who didn`t recognize any of us.
“See here,” Deming said. “Our place is right across the Common. Come back, and we`ll sort things out. Tea, that`s what you need.”
My recipe for the lachrymose lady was far more brutal—a hearty dose of Valium or a kick in the pants. Anything to shut her up. One glimpse of Deming’s film star face did the trick. Melanie clasped his arm, turned down the volume, and meekly followed. Cato and I brought up the rear of the parade.
Our co-op board is a very private, terminally staid group that believes every day is a day of rest. Only the Swann pedigree and money would save us from a blistering reprimand. To make matters worse, Gabriel confronted us outside the lobby door. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and I noticed some