By Tamar Myers
Each SHROUD HAS A SILVER LINING Abigail Timberlake, proprietor of the Den of Antiquity, hasn't ever been happier. She is set to marry the guy of her goals AND has simply outbid all different Charlotte, North Carolina, vintage buyers for a beautiful English tea carrier. Then Mama (who is working off to be a nun) stops by means of to bring an early marriage ceremony current, and it rains on Abby's parade. The different tea carrier Abby paid giant greenbacks for has a dual. A frazzled Abby unearths extra hassle on her doorstep -- actually -- whilst a neighborhood auctioneer mysteriously collapses outdoors her store and a press clipping of her engagement declaration turns up within the pockets of a lifeless guy. (Obviously she will not be getting a marriage current from him.) Tracing the deceased to a small city within the Pennsylvania Dutch state, Abby heads above the Mason-Dixon Line to go looking for clues to the origins of pretend tea companies. observed via a trio of eccentric purchasers and her liked yet stressed-out cat, she longs for her Southern native land as she confronts a menagerie of doubtful characters. Digging for solutions, Abby realizes that she may well simply be digging her personal grave in -- horrors! -- Yankeeland.
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Extra info for So Faux, So Good (A Den of Antiquity Mystery)
But there was nothing in there but an open package of three moldy slices of turkey bologna, and a jar of crusty brown mustard. Frantically I rummaged in my desk drawers for some sort of libation, but alas, no bottle of Pernod magically appeared. It was not altogether a wasted effort, however, because I did find—mixed up with some rubber bands and paper clips—some candies I’d swiped from the bowl at Red Lobster. ” I asked politely. He shook his massive head which, I noticed with dismay, was glistening with sweat.
The major, dressed in a khaki uniform of British colonial issue, replete with pith helmet, was cradling Purvis’s giant head in his arms and crooning something intelligible. Perhaps a Punjabi lullaby. It was a scene straight out of a Fellini movie. “I’m back,” I rasped. The major didn’t look up. ” “They said five minutes tops. ” “It’s been years since I took the course, but I’ll give it a go,” the major said. He laid Purvis’s head gently down on the pavement and straddled him. With his knobby knees protruding from the baggy khaki shorts, and a look of terror in his eyes, the major looked like a small child who had just mounted a pony for the first time.
He stuck out his hand, which I had no choice but to shake. It felt like a clump of kelp fresh from the sea. Purvis was halfway to his car before it occurred to me that I may just have been bought off. Hornswoggled by the best of them. What a clever ploy it was to offer me remuneration, even a partial one. And then the flirting! That was a stroke of genius. I had become so discombobulated that I had completely forgotten to press for a description of the mysterious vendor. SO FAUX, SO GOOD / 49 I raced after him and caught him just as he was opening the door to his Chrysler LeBaron.