by Joan Hess
“One minute,” I said to the agent. “I need to assure my daughter that I’m unharmed.” He obligingly stepped back. I punched a button, and to my relief, Caron picked up. I hurriedly said, “I wanted to let you know that I’ll be home in an hour, dear. Where’s Peter?”
“What on earth have you been doing, Mother? You and that convict are all over the news. My Facebook page is swamped with snide comments. Rhonda Maguire insinuated that you’re having an affair with him. Carrie wants to know if I’m still going to the senior picnic this afternoon. I am So Humiliated.”
“Where’s Peter?”
“He went to pick up pizza. His mother insisted on olives and anchovies. Inez is allergic to olives. I loathe anchovies.”
“She’s there?” I said, forcing myself to breathe. “Never mind, of course she is.”
“Inez is keeping her company on the terrace. I came inside to get the pitcher of tea.”
“Did you find the Ming Thing?”
“In a way. Inez and I learned that some man from the drama department at the college had bought the stupid thing, along with other stuff for a set. We looked him up on the Internet. It turned out he’s a bigwig in the community theater, and they were opening a new play Friday night. We went to the theater in the afternoon, but there were people all over the place.”
The FBI agent harrumphed softly.
“I only have a minute,” I said.
“So I persuaded Joel to take me, and Inez happened to show up. That icky thing was on a shelf on the stage. During the final act, I told Joel that I was sick and Inez was taking me home. We hid in the wardrobe room until the play was over.”
The FBI agent harrumphed less softly.
“Hurry, please,” I whispered.
“As soon as everybody was gone and the lights were off, we went onto the stage and grabbed the thing. How were we supposed to know all the doors had dead bolts? We decided to wait until someone showed up in the morning, but that didn’t happen. Finally, we just opened the emergency exit and ran. A security cop grabbed us and called the police.”
The FBI agent harrumphed loudly.
“And?” I said.
“I dropped it.” Her sigh was masterful, filled with angst and anguish. “We scooped up all the pieces and spent last night gluing it back together. It’s on the mantel, even uglier, if you can imagine.”
“What did Peter’s mother say when she saw it?”
“She laughed and admitted it was a cheap souvenir that she bought as a joke. You’re going to die when you see the turquoise silk robe she brought you. Mine’s a gorgeous jade green. She gave Peter a set of antique porcelain temple lions. I put them on either side of the fireplace to protect us from evil spirits.”
The FBI agent harrumphed like a tiger with a hairball.
“See you soon,” I said as I turned off the cell phone.
* * *
It took more than an hour before I was dismissed with stern orders to remain available and to not so much as stick my little toe beyond the city limits. Peter had called in favors from his enigmatic connections at Quantico. Chief Panzer had vouched for my impeccable character. Sheriff Dorfer had agreed that I was not yet a menace to society.
An FBI agent drove me to the police impound lot and oversaw the release of my car. I’d solved the case, but I certainly had not solved everyone’s problems. Sarah was in custody. Roderick was headed for parts unknown. Grady would need a lawyer from Legal Aid. Evan, if forced to represent him, would be blushing throughout trial.
On a much cheerier note (worthy of fireworks and champagne), Prosecutor Wessell had made a fool of himself. He’d been adamant about Sarah’s guilt. He’d proclaimed it from the courthouse steps, in front of the national media. Martin Luther had made less of a fuss over his ninety-five theses. The Weasel’s previous prosecutions were fair game for scrutiny. I looked forward to listening to him bleat on the nightly news.
When I arrived home, I cautiously opened the front door and made sure everyone was on the terrace. My mood improved a bit when I spotted empty wine bottles on the kitchen island. I scurried into the bedroom and changed clothes. One should not meet one’s mother-in-law dressed in a random man’s shirt and jeans, I thought with only a twinge of hysteria. I did what I could with my hair, put on minimum makeup, and emerged from the bedroom with a sense of foreboding.
Caron and Inez were sitting on the tile floor, towels draped over their bathing suits. My beloved husband was lying in a chaise longue.
A female voice came from the chaise longue beside him. “Okay, so a priest, a rabbi, and a giant frog walk into a bar.”
For the first time, it occurred to me that I might like Peter’s mother.
About the Author
JOAN HESS is the author of both the Claire Malloy and the Maggody mystery series, a winner of the American Mystery Award, and a former president of the American Crime Writers League. A member of Sisters in Crime, she was recently recognized with a Lifetime Achievement Award from Malice Domestic. A longtime resident of Fayetteville, Arkansas, she now lives in Austin, Texas. You can sign up for email updates here.
ALSO BY JOAN HESS
THE CLAIRE MALLOY MYSTERIES
Strangled Prose
The Murder at the Murder at the Mimosa Inn
Dear Miss Demeanor
Roll Over and Play Dead
A Diet to Die For
A Really Cute Corpse
Death by the Light of the Moon
Poisoned Pins
Closely Akin to Murder
Busy Bodies
Tickled to Death
A Holly, Jolly Murder
A Conventional Corpse
Out on a Limb
The Goodbye Body
Damsels in Distress
Mummy Dearest
Deader Homes and Gardens
Murder as a Second Language
THE ARLY HANKS MYSTERIES
Malice in Maggody
Mischief in Maggody
Much Ado in Maggody
Madness in Maggody
Mortal Remains in Maggody
Maggody in Manhattan
O Little Town of Maggody
Martians in Maggody
Miracles in Maggody
The Maggody Militia
Misery Loves Maggody
[email protected]
Maggody and the Moonbeams
Muletrain to Maggody
Malpractice in Maggody
Merry Wives of Maggody
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
About the Author
Also by Joan Hess
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
PRIDE V. PREJUDICE. Copyright © 2015 by Joan Hess. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover illustration by Ben Perini
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information
on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Hess, Joan.
Pride v. prejudice : a Claire Malloy mystery / Joan Hess. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-250-01195-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-02999-7 (e-book)
1. Malloy, Claire (Fictitious character)–Fiction. 2. Booksellers and bookselling–Fiction. 3. Women detectives–Fiction. I. Title. II. Title: Pride versus prejudice.
PS3558.E79785P75 2015
813'.54—dc23
2014040984
eISBN 9781250029997
First Edition: April 2015