by Leena Clover
“She must have bumped into Fiona!” I cried. “That’s when Fiona stumbled along with her cushion.”
Stan nodded.
“She stumbled into one or two people. Then someone screamed and people gathered around Dot. She walked over to the body, picked up the scarf in the confusion and wore it around her neck. She counted on no one noticing her. The scarf was hers anyway. It was a very expensive one.”
“But someone saw her pick it up?” I guessed shrewdly.
“Cindy Fowler must have seen her offer it to Dot. Or she saw Dot wearing the scarf and wanted one like it. We’ll never know exactly. But she went to the Lucas home and talked to one or two people.”
“She wanted to fit in,” I groaned. “She wanted a scarf just like Dot.”
“Cindy was a witness. Naomi couldn’t let her go free.”
“So she strangled her too?” Tony’s eyes widened.
“We have her confession, and forensics will check the scarf for more evidence.”
“I bet that’s why all those drapes were closed,” Motee Ba said.
“She thought of that too,” Stan agreed. “She wanted it to be pitch dark without the lights.”
Something wasn’t adding up.
“Why did she do it? Everyone knows she’s an alcoholic.”
Stan had saved the best for the last.
“That’s not the secret she’s hiding.”
Once again, Stan had our undivided attention.
“She has an early diagnosis for Parkinson’s. She already has a slight tremor in her hands. It’s not a death sentence for you or me, but it is for Naomi. She’d already been slapped on the wrist for her addiction. A condition like this would be the end of her career as a surgeon.”
“It’s not something she can hide,” Dad said.
“Maybe not forever,” Stan agreed. “She wanted to buy time. She wanted to be in control. She wanted to pull on for as long as possible.”
“And she thought Dot knew about this illness?” I mused. “How?”
“She’s not sure why she thought that,” Stan said. “That’s her story. She flipped when she learned about her illness.”
We were all in shock. Two people had died for no reason. That too at the hands of someone who was the pillar of Swan Creek society.
“What’s the world coming to, I say!” Pappa bellowed, tapping his cane.
I went back to the kitchen, looking for Motee Ba. I hugged her tightly, unwilling to let go. I closed my eyes, breathing in her special scent, feeling warm and safe. She was my safe harbor, the one I turned to in times of crisis since I was a child.
I opened my eyes and found myself looking at Sally. She smiled. I hugged her next, holding her tight. She hugged me back. A familiar scent wafted up my nose, reminding me of the special blue bottle it came from.
Shalimar! I smiled back at Sally. Everything was going to be alright.
Thank You
Thank you for taking the time to read For A Few Dumplings More.
If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review here.
I would also really appreciate it if you tell your friends and family about the book. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend, and it will be of immense help to me. Your efforts are much appreciated.
Thanks!
Author Leena Clover
[email protected]
http://twitter.com/leenaclover
https://www.facebook.com/meerapatelcozymystery
SNEAK PEEK – Back to the Fajitas – Book 4
I swallowed a big mouthful of my favorite breakfast and closed my eyes, savoring the smoky, spicy flavors. None of the Patels chomping on their meal had any inkling of what was to come.
Even with eyes closed, I knew what my grandpa was up to. He may be over 80, but he acts like a child most of the time.
“Put that butter down, Pappa!”
Pappa glared at me and cut off almost half a stick of butter in protest. He began slathering his thepla flatbread with it until every inch was dripping with melted butter. Motee Ba, my grandma, snatched the butter from him. She speared the buttery Thepla with a fork and it landed in my brother Jeet’s plate.
“Hansa!” my grandpa roared.
The gingham curtains in the kitchen window fluttered in the cool Spring breeze. We were all gathered around the table for breakfast, and it was the usual mad scramble.
“Are you happy now, girl?” Pappa gave me the stink eye.
I ignored him and went on eating.
My name is Meera Patel and I am a 20 something girl from Swan Creek, Oklahoma. I live on the outskirts of town in our huge 6 bedroom ranch along with my extended family. We call this a ‘joint family’, where several generations try to coexist under the same roof. It’s not easy by any account, but we do end up having fun.
“Settle down, Pappa,” my Dad said as he walked in. “You need to watch your diet if you want to go with us.”
My father is the head honcho at the electrical engineering department at Pioneer Polytechnic, our local university. He rarely involves himself in family matters. He never has time for small talk.
“Shut up, gadhedo,” Pappa glared. “I’m going no matter what. I don’t need your permission.”
Pappa loves calling Dad an ass. It’s almost become a nick name.
The phone rang before Motee Ba could call him out for swearing.
“Hi Sylvie,” she chirped.
“Is she baking our pies today?” Jeet asked eagerly.
Sylvie’s pies are the talk of the county. And they are really that good. We never go anywhere without stocking up on some of them.
Motee Ba held up a hand, motioning Jeet to be quiet. Her face had turned ashen. The mood in the room changed as everyone noticed it one by one and stared at my grandma.
“We’re just finishing breakfast,” Motee Ba told Sylvie. “We’ll be there soon.”
I sprang up and gently guided her to a chair. I poured a glass of water and made her drink it. Motee Ba sat stunned, staring at the table.
“What is it?” Pappa leaned forward. “What’s wrong, Hansa?”
Motee Ba looked at me and her eyes flickered. I got the message.
“Are you all done here?” I asked and started clearing the table. “Why don’t you go watch TV, Pappa? Isn’t Law & Order on right now?”
Pappa ignored me and tapped his cane.
“Don’t treat me like a child, girl! Tell me what’s wrong, Hansa. Tell me right now!”
“It’s Charlie Gibson,” Motee Ba barely whispered. “He’s gone.”
“But we’re meeting for lunch today!” Pappa exclaimed. “Bet that no good boy dragged him off somewhere.”
Then he realized what Motee Ba meant. His face blanched in shock. Jeet sidled closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
Dad finally looked up and realized something was wrong.
“Sylvie heard from Audrey. She’s going over there now with Jon.”
Pappa stood up and tapped his cane.
“So are we. Get ready, Hansa!”
“I’ll go with you,” I offered, and Motee Ba nodded in relief.
Pappa has a few old cronies in town. Charlie Gibson had been one of them. They were all in the twilight of their lives, so this type of news is kinda expected, I guess. But losing a friend is always hard. Pappa’s temper is mercurial at best. I had no idea how he would take this sudden news.
I helped Motee Ba get ready and drove them to Charlie Gibson’s house. There was a long line of cars and trucks in the cul de sac where Charlie’s house was situated. News travels really fast in our town.
I spotted Jon and Sylvie’s truck and frowned when I saw the car next to it. What was Stan Miller doing here? Then I spotted an ambulance with the lights off and my curiosity deepened.
Stan waddled out just as I finished helping Pappa and Motee Ba out of the car.
“Looks like a tough one, Meera,” he plunged ahead without greeting us.
“Did his heart give out?�
�� I asked tentatively.
“His heart gave out alright,” Stan growled. “After he was stabbed to death.”
“What do you mean?” I asked the stupid question.
“He was murdered,” Stan said flatly. “No doubt about it.”
PREORDER NOW – Back to the FAJITAS – Meera Patel Book 4
Join the Patel family on an epic road trip to the coast
Be the first to read it in October!
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0748KPTLM