Dead and Gondola by Ann Claire EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Ann Claire
- Language: English
- Genre: Amateur Sleuth Mysteries
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
A Perfect Day for Murder
I swung open the heavy oak door and blinked at the figure taking shape in
the blizzard.
“What a perfect day for murder!” The woman strode into the Book
Chalet, glowing like a summer sunbeam and a vision from the past.
Feathers trembled atop her flapper-style beret. Pretty pin curls framed her
face. Snowflakes swarmed at her sides.
I gaped, not at the greeting—that was perfectly appropriate—but at its
giver.
Morgan Marin. The Morgan Marin, Hollywood legend known even to
book-dwellers like me. Movies were nice, but they hadn’t rendered me
tongue-tied. Morgan had reportedly retired (once again) from acting. In its
place, she’d turned her superstar dazzle to my beloved medium: books. Her
online reading club, Shelf Indulgence, attracted tens of thousands of
devoted bibliophiles, myself among them.
I’d been dying to meet her.
And here she stood, in the lobby of my family’s bookshop in little Last
Word, Colorado.
Morgan stomped faux-fur boots so plush they should have been
hibernating. “You must be Ellie.” She beamed at me. “The missing Christie,
returned to the roost.”
I basked in her glow, then remembered my manners and the door, still
gaping as wide as my mouth. I switched to a giddy grin and shoved the door
shut against suicidal snowflakes. Cowbells dangling from the door latch
clonked, buying me time to formulate a sparkling reply.
“Yes,” I said.
Hardly scintillating.
“That’s me!” I added. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Marin.”
I cringed. I’d gone too gushy. According to my grandmother, Morgan
Marin wished to be treated like any other small-town neighbor. Essentially,
she was. Unlike many of the vacation-mansion set who jetted in for
weekend getaways in our remote mountain valley, Morgan had settled in
Last Word permanently.
Morgan brushed snow from a long emerald coat cut like a cloak.
“Please, call me Morgan, and the honor is mine. Your darling grandmother
told me all about you. Traveling the world from Torquay to Tokyo on
literary jobs? A Christie giving tours of Agatha Christie’s hometown?”
I bit back my usual disclaimer. If Morgan had chatted with Gram, then
she truly would know all about me. My resume, my favorite books, those
wince-worthy cute grandkid tales grandmothers love to overshare. Morgan
would also know that, sadly, we Last Word Christies had yet to uncover a
genealogical link to our favorite mystery author. That didn’t stop us from
loving Dame Agatha like family.
“You’ve returned to run the Chalet with your brilliant sister?” Morgan
patted her miraculously immaculate curls and hat feathers. “The era of the
Christie sisters, how grand!”
My cheeks flared.
“It’s my dream job,” I said. Trite but oh so true. I’d had some great gigs
since leaving home straight after high school. Like managing a beachside
bookshop on a South Pacific resort island and leading tours of Agatha
Christie’s stomping grounds, Torquay. Most recently (and far less fun), I’d
served as a private librarian for a persnickety antiquarian book collector in
London.
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