The Prawn Identity (Australian Amateur Sleuth Book 4), page 12
“How is it that you always find yourself in danger, Sibyl?” Cressida asked, raising an eyebrow. “Every time there’s a murder—and there have been a lot—you manage to get caught in the middle of them,” she continued. Seeing my shocked expression, she spoke again. “Oh, no! I don’t mean to sound like I’m accusing you of anything. I mean it! It’s just that you need to be more careful.”
“But then her knight in shining armor wouldn’t be able to rescue her,” Mr. Buttons teased.
“Oh, come on,” I said, feeling myself start to blush. “I just get involved, I guess. If people are willing to kill over such petty things, it shouldn’t be a surprise that they try to kill to keep their motives under wraps. They don’t have a whole lot to lose, let’s face it,” I said, sighing again. “Not that I’m happy about it either, mind you. Maybe I should start carrying pepper spray. Or a flamethrower.”
“You could just carry Blake around,” Cressida said, holding back a laugh. “He seems to do pretty much the same job.” Mr. Buttons and Cressida started laughing in unison and I felt myself turning more and more red.
“Go &%^* yourselves!” a loud voice sounded out, causing us all to jump.
“Sorry, Sibyl, it was just a...” Cressida began.
“No, that was Max,” I interrupted her to explain. Max flew down and squawked loudly in my face, clearly unhappy about something. I excused myself, took him inside and fed him. I thought about trying again to find him a trainer, but figured he’d probably just scare them all off. I considered learning to train him myself, but put that to the back of my mind after Max interrupted my train of thought with a vicious verbal tirade.
I left him on his perch and went back out the front, sitting in the same spot on the steps. The sun, encased by a thick red haze, was lower on the horizon, and the cool air was rapidly getting colder. Leaves dropped off trees and littered the ground as an icy breeze gently pushed against me. I thought that we’d have to move the discussion indoors quite soon, before the temperature became unbearable.
Before I could say anything, I felt something heavy hit my chest, causing me to fall backward. Sandy was standing on top of me, grinning ear-to-ear and trying to lick my face. I struggled in vain to push her off until Cressida mercifully called her away by offering her a treat. I sat up and wiped my face as Mr. Buttons laughed at me.
“Sorry,” he said. “It just looked so funny. She’s just trying to be sweet,” he said, patting Sandy on the head.
“Well, she’s trying too hard,” I complained, as Mr. Buttons furiously wiped Sandy’s slobber off my face with an embroidered handkerchief. “Why can’t I have a normal pet? Maybe I should get a goldfish. Surely it wouldn’t do anything too annoying.” I sighed.
“Sandy’s normal enough,” Cressida said as she patted an all-too-happy Sandy. “She’s just a playful puppy.”
“Maybe find out if Blake’s allergic to anything before you go pet shopping,” Mr. Buttons said with a wink.
“Oh come on now! That’s enough,” I said, perhaps a little too sternly. “Don’t make me teach Max to say something horrible about you.”
“I’m not sure Max can say anything more horrible than he already does,” Cressida said frankly. “I really think he’s reached some kind of expletive limit.” I sighed as Cressida said it, knowing she was probably right. I had no idea what kind of educational limits cockatoos had, and it occurred to me that it wasn’t a normal thing to think about.
“I can’t help thinking about Dorothy,” Mr. Buttons said, clearly not trying to hide his disdain. “If only she’d been the murderer.”
“Mr. Buttons!” Cressida and I exclaimed in unison. “That’s an awful thing to say,” Cressida continued.
Mr. Buttons nodded in agreement, but managed to do so without looking at all sorry about what he’d said. “Yes, all right, I’m sorry,” he lied. “She just irks me so much. Why you keep that woman employed is a bigger mystery to me than any murder we’ve solved.”
“I’m surprised that Lord Farringdon likes her,” I admitted. That cat seemed to be wary of almost everybody, so it surprised me that he’d apparently taken something of a shine to Dorothy. That is, Cressida had. It was sometimes hard to remember that her cat wasn’t actually talking to her.
“Well, he’s of a mixed opinion on almost everybody,” Cressida said light heartedly, as though the cat not really liking anybody was all in good fun. “But despite her questionable cooking, I don’t mind Dorothy as much as you two. Besides, hiring good cooks is getting harder and harder, what with all the murders,” she admitted sadly. “Not to make myself seem the victim, of course. I’d much rather have problems hiring a cook than being murdered.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Mr. Buttons announced, politely sipping his tea. I considered that he hadn’t quite used the phrase correctly, but opted not to mention it.
We sat in the cool afternoon as the sun finished setting, then headed inside and spoke at length. While the murders had no doubt shocked everybody, it was amazing to have friends I knew I could rely on so completely. Time and again we’d been there for each other, and I had no reason to suspect that that would change now. Everything was good and calm again.
“&^%( off, you tramp!” Max yelled loudly. I sighed. Almost everything.
Mr. Buttons stood, stretching his legs. “I want to return home before the sun leaves us entirely.”
“Thank goodness we have a home to return to,” Cressida said, standing as well. “I don’t think you realize how close we were to being shut down permanently.”
“I do, my dear,” Mr. Buttons said. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t see your face any longer, and didn’t get to taste our dear Dorothy’s mediocre food day after day.”
Cressida and I laughed, and I rose to hug my friends goodbye. I stood on the dirt path, watching them walk arm and arm back toward the boarding house. When I couldn’t see them any longer, I went inside, gathering the cups that had been left behind, along with my own.
My cockatoo began squawking insults as soon as I opened the door, and, after dropping off the mugs by the sink, I rushed to his night cage and threw the blanket over it so he would go to sleep. I went in to rinse out the mugs, leaving them to be washed in the morning. And then I had a long, hot shower.
Afterward, I climbed into bed and read a book. It was a mystery, a detective trying to track down a killer. I shut the book and put it down. I just couldn’t get through it. I knew why.
That was my life now. Danger, murder, mystery. Five times now a killer had come to the boarding house, so close to my home.
The murders were horrible, of course—no one would say otherwise. Yet when the mysteries were unfolding, it was all exciting. I had looked forward to getting to the boarding house each day. I had looked forward to comparing notes and tracking down clues. It was dangerous. I knew that. But it was so much more. It was exciting. I had come to Little Tatterford for a quiet life, to escape my divorce. I had been sad and alone, yet I had gained Mr. Buttons, Cressida, and Blake. And as I closed my eyes, listening to the soft hoot of a Tawny Frogmouth Owl that had just awakened nearby and the possums scrambling across my roof, I considered myself blessed that I had something more valuable than money.
Connect with Morgana
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Next Book in this Series
Any Given Sundae (Australian Amateur Sleuth Book 5)
Sibyl Potts has finally been awarded her long-awaited property settlement, and her ex-husband has been sentenced for her attempted murder. Yet just as all seems well in her world, the body of one of Cressida’s boarders is found in her cottage. When all the evidence points to Sibyl as the culprit, how will she solve the crime and prove her innocence?
Other Books by Morgana
Sweet Revenge (The Cocoa Narel Chocolate Shop Mysteries Book 1)
Narel Myers was given the ironic name Cocoa Narel by the cruel popular kids in high school, as she was far from elegant and was obsessed with chocolate. The truth of the matter was that her love of eating chocolate had caused her to become excessively overweight. Some years later, a car wreck leads to her undergoing extensive plastic surgery on her face and body. Now that she is medically unable to gain weight, she decides to indulge her love for chocolate by opening a designer chocolate shop.
When people who bullied her at high school are murdered one by one, she becomes the prime suspect. Will she be able to prove her innocence when the police think she’s out for revenge? Will Carl, her best friend, stop flirting with the police long enough to help her find the real killer?
Bonus: Chocolate cake recipes at back of book!
Miss Spelled (The Kitchen Witch Book 1)
Amelia Spelled has had a bad week. Her boyfriend dumps her when she inadvertently gives him food poisoning; her workplace, a telecommunications center, fires all their staff as they are outsourcing offshore, and she is evicted due to smoke damage resulting from her failed attempts at baking. Amelia thinks her luck has changed when she inherits her aunt’s store and beautiful Victorian house.
Yet has Amelia jumped out of the frying pan into the fire? The store is a cake store, and her aunt was a witch. To add to the mix, the house has secrets all of its own.
When a man is murdered in the cake store, will Amelia be able to cook up a way to solve the crime? Will her spells prove as bad as her baking?
A Ghost of a Chance (Witch Woods Funeral Home Book 1)
Nobody knows that Laurel Bay can see and talk to ghosts. When she inherits a funeral home, she is forced to return from the city to the small town of Witch Woods to breathe life into the business. It is a grave responsibility, but Laurel is determined that this will be no dead-end job.
There she has to contend with her manipulative and overly religious mother, more than one ghost, and a secretive but handsome accountant.
When the murder of a local woman in the funeral home strangles the finances, can Laurel solve the murder?
Or will this be the death of her business?
Christmas Spirit (The Middle-aged Ghost Whisperer Book 1)
Prudence Wallflower tours the country, making live appearances. She connects people with loved ones who have passed on. However, her reputation as a psychic medium is failing, and even Prudence has begun to doubt herself. She has never seen a ghost, but receives impressions from the dead. This all changes when the ghost of a detective appears to her and demands her help to solve a murder. Prudence finds herself out of her depth, and to make matters worse, she is more attracted to this ghost than any man she has ever met.
About the Author
#1 Best-selling Cozy Mystery author, Morgana Best, lives in a small, historic, former gold mining town in the middle of nowhere in Australia. She is owned by one highly demanding, rescued cat who is half Chinchilla, and two less demanding dogs, a chocolate Labrador and a rescued Dingo, as well as two rescued Dorper sheep, the ram, Herbert, and his wether friend, Bertie.
Morgana is a former college professor who now writes full time.
In her spare time, Morgana loves to read cozy mysteries, repurpose furniture, and renovate her old house.
A Note from the Author
Thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it.
All my books are edited by two separate editing firms, but no one is infallible. If you happen to find a typo, please email me at morganabest (at) outlook (dot) com. Thank you!
Morgana Best, The Prawn Identity (Australian Amateur Sleuth Book 4)
