Murder Makes Waves
Chapters (25)
Anne George
Murder Makes Waves
A Southern Sisters Mystery
For Jean and Joe
with thanks for The Little Mermaid,
King Tut, and The Top of the World.
Contents
Contents
Chapter 1
“She looks good, doesn’t she, Patricia Anne, in spite of…
Chapter 2
“And this Universal Metals wants to buy Papa out?” It…
Chapter 3
Frances and Haley both jumped at the chance to go…
Chapter 4
Haley and I were sharing the bedroom with twin beds.
Chapter 5
For a moment, there was utter confusion. I think Frances…
Chapter 6
After Haley and I were in bed, we heard the…
Chapter 7
When the door closed, I turned and looked at Fairchild.
Chapter 8
That night we watched the movies while we pigged out…
Chapter 9
Traffic was heavy between Emerald Waters and Gulf Towers; it…
Chapter 10
I awoke the next morning to the sounds of Haley…
Chapter 11
“Papa’s coming to protect us,” Haley said when I told…
Chapter 12
“You see, we were looking at some pictures of Emily…
Chapter 13
My sweet Fred’s car was in the parking lot at…
Chapter 14
The dark shape became one again with the water. Behind…
Chapter 15
I’ve been to meals after funerals that were very comforting,…
Chapter 16
The sun came out during the afternoon and the trek…
Chapter 17
Ten minutes later, there I was with bright red hair…
Chapter 18
After such a busy day, we welcomed a quiet evening.
Chapter 19
By the next morning, things had calmed down considerably. In…
About the Author
Other Books by Anne George
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Chapter 1
Chapter 1
“She looks good, doesn’t she, Patricia Anne, in spite of being dead,” my sister, Mary Alice, whispered.
“Shhh,” I answered. But Sister is not easily shushed.
“Don’t you hate it when they give dead people those fakey smiles? You know. Stuffing their cheeks like Marlon Brando. Couldn’t say a word if they had to.”
The lady in front of us turned around. “Shhh.”
“Sorry,” I murmured. And to Mary Alice, “Shhh” again, accompanied this time by a small nudge with my elbow.
The gray casket was blanketed in a simple arrangement of spring flowers and greenery. It loomed large in the small stone chapel. There was no music to comfort the mourners, though the stillness was broken by an occasional muffled sob. In the front row, the widower, his young face frozen, sat holding the hands of his two little girls.
And then a stir as Father Patrick O’Reilly entered through a side door and took his place at the altar, directly above the casket. In the dim light, for no sun shone through the windows this day, his white robe seemed blue. He held out his arms in supplication.
“My friends, our sympathy is extended to the family of Sarah Lane Goodall. She was a very special presence on this earth and she will be missed. We welcome you to this service in her memory. May we pray.”