Free A Dollhouse to Die For (A Deadly Notions Mystery) by Cate Price Page B

screen door. He could lie there for hours, entranced, watching the little sparrows fluttering around. It must be like television for dogs, tuned to the Bird Channel.
    Half an hour later, Marybeth Skelton arrived outside Sometimes a Great Notion in a creamy white Mercedes sedan. As much as Harriet had let herself go, Marybeth was perfectly groomed. Not a gray hair to be found threading its way through the short honey blond, and her eye makeup was simply a work of art. She wore a silky zebra-patterned shirt, a scarf knotted smartly at her throat, camel-colored pants, and black flats with gold buckles.
    I’d seen her face enough times staring at me from advertisements on shopping carts and on real estate FOR SALE signs that I’d recognize her anywhere. Admittedly the picture was a few years old, and she was probably in her early fifties now, but she still looked good.
    “Thanks for coming, Marybeth, and for setting up these appointments so quickly,” I said as I slid onto the leather passenger seat. “I honestly didn’t expect you to answer the phone yesterday. I mean, um, you know, under the circumstances and all . . .”
    “My sister and I weren’t that close. It’s just another day to me,” she said abruptly, in a way that didn’t invite further conversation. She stepped on the accelerator and the car lunged forward.
    But one of my faults, or qualities, depending on which way you looked at it, was that I could never give up on something once I’d taken an interest. Like the crossword puzzle I was compelled to finish every day. Eleanor said I was like a one-eyed dog in a meat factory when I set my mind to something.
    And the murder of Harriet Kunes was still a puzzle that needed solving.
    Marybeth turned the car up Grist Mill toward River Road. “The bad news is that nothing is available here in Millbury, so it will probably mean moving to Sheepville,” she said. “The only street that’s zoned commercial is Main Street and it’s fully leased.”
    “I thought as much.” I struggled to sit upright on the cushy seat. “So, had you seen your sister Harriet recently?”
    Marybeth looked at me and gripped the steering wheel with crimson fingernails. “No. We haven’t spoken in years.”
    She sucked in a breath as she maneuvered the large sedan around a sharp curve. “The first place we’re going to see is in a nice shopping center near the movie theater. It’s available immediately, and in the interests of full disclosure, I should tell you that I’m the listing agent on this one. It’s also the cheapest one we’ll see today.”
    When we arrived in Sheepville, I trailed after Marybeth to a vacant retail space that was actually near Jeanne’s store, in the same strip mall. It was modern, one level, and quite a good value for the square footage, but with none of the charm of the nineteenth-century Victorian I currently occupied. It was only about five hundred dollars more a month than I was paying now.
    Knowing that commercial real estate agents made their money on commissions that were calculated as a percentage of the rent, I appreciated that she was showing me properties in my price range. She hadn’t bought that fancy car outside by doing dinky deals like this.
    “Carlos!” She snapped her fingers at a worker in paint-stained overalls. “Come here. See these spots? They need another touch-up.”
    Carlos and I both peered at the wall. It looked fine to me, but Marybeth tapped on it with a long red fingernail, and he obediently applied his paintbrush. The store was one big open space, and I half listened as Marybeth talked about vanilla boxes and the landlord being willing to absorb some of the cost of the buildout.
    I couldn’t seem to work up any enthusiasm though. Maybe my malaise was due to a lack of caffeine. I would have had several jolts with my compadres by now, but didn’t dare suggest bringing a cup of coffee into the pristine white vehicle.
    “So. Do you have any idea who might have