by June Shaw
My stomach rumbled, reminding me of why I’d stopped at Eve’s in the first place. I considered eating leftover red beans and sausage, but instead yanked rice from the fridge, heated a pile of it in a bowl, and squirted my initials over it with ketchup. I munched on this entrée with a chunk of lettuce topped with a few raisins, fat-free ranch dressing, and crunchy chow mein noodles.
In my bedroom, I peeled off church clothes and struggled to snap my jeans, then yanked on a purple T-shirt with gold letters in front that said TWIN SISTERS. Small letters on its back said Remodeling & Repairs.
I slipped into my backyard, where flats of flowers waited. Sunshine and temperatures in the mid-sixties made the spring afternoon appealing. A cool breeze pushed off earlier mugginess that reminded us soon south Louisiana would treat us all to steam baths.
Digging up scraggly plants, I tossed them aside, noting sirens in the distance. A harsh memory trying to erupt froze me in place. I fought the remembrance from my youth and forced it away.
I stabbed soil with my shovel, knowing something was definitely not right with Daria Snelling. Years of working in close contact with women at Fancy Ladies let me learn much more than I wanted to about their private lives so that now my initial instincts were normally correct. Dragging topsoil to the flowerbeds, I mentally weighed the probability of what police decided happened to Zane Snelling and shook my head. Why had he tripped and slid into the deep water in their backyard near the seating area Eve and I recently completed?
Uneasy about his drowning, I added weed preventer to my beds and topped the mounds with cypress mulch. Next came tall coneflowers as a nice backdrop. I set daylilies in front and filled in the closest section with coreopsis.
When the sun was dipping behind rooftops, my riot of color pleased me. I watered everything and kicked off my dirty shoes near the backdoor. Walking into the kitchen, I was ready to develop a bid for Anna Tabor’s window that would add to our other pending jobs. A flashing red light on the answering machine caught my attention. I pressed the button, expecting Mrs. Snelling.
“Sunny! Where are you?” Eve yelled.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Something happened to Mom?
I played the next message. “Sunny, it’s Eve. I need you!”
My quivering finger pressed her number in Memory on my phone.
“Where have you been?” she asked with a sob. “I’ve been calling.”
“Planting flowers. Is it Mom?”
“Somebody broke into my house!”
“What? Are you okay?”
“No. Come over.”
“I’m there!” I raced toward my sister.
Meet the Author
From the bayou country of South Louisiana, June Shaw previously sold a series of humorous mysteries to Five Star, Harlequin, and Untreed Reads. Publishers Weekly praised her debut, Relative Danger, which became a finalist for the David Award for Best Mystery of the Year. A hybrid author who has published other works, she has represented her state on the board of Mystery Writers of America’s Southwest Chapter for many years and continued to serve as the Published Author Liaison for Romance Writers of America’s Southern Louisiana chapter. She gains inspiration for her work from her faith, family, and friends, including the many readers who urge her on. For more info please visit juneshaw.com.
Table of Contents
Cover Copy
Books by June Shaw
Dead On the Bayou
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgements
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
A Fatal Romance
Chapter 1
Meet the Author
