Splendor in the Glass: A Den of Antiquity Mystery by Tamar Myers

By Tamar Myers

Antiques broker Abby Timberlake Washburn is delighted while the Mrs. Amelia Shadbark—doyenne of Charleston society—invites her to dealer an expensive selection of Lalique glass sculpture. those treasures will surely strengthen enterprise on the Den of Antiquity, and perhaps hoist Abby into the higher crust—which may please her class-conscious mother, Mozella, no finish. unfortunately, Abby's fragile dream is quickly shattered while Mrs. Shadbark meets a nasty, premature finish. and because the final recognized customer to the victim's palatial domicile, Abby's being pegged by way of the neighborhood legislations as suspect Numero Uno. in fact there are different attainable killers—including a number of dysfunctional offspring and a handyman who can have been doing extra for the overdue Mrs. S than solving her leaky taps. yet Abby's the single who'll need to piece the shards of this lethal puzzle together—or else face a destiny a ways worse than an insignificant seven years of undesirable luck!

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It is you. Do me a favor, dear. Make yourself some breakfast and chill out in another room. There’s cable TV, of course, and plenty of books. ” “Of course you can. There’s cereal and milk, if you don’t feel like cooking. ” Mama would disown me if she ever found out I used the instant product. In my defense, let me explain that I use it only when she’s out of town, and then it’s usually when I’m running late. “Abby, I already had breakfast. ” “That’s nice, dear. Then—” I opened the other eye, pushed a reluctant Dmitri off my chest, and sat up.

The pencil materialized. ” I sounded the word slowly, but I had no idea how to spell it. “It’s a fine arts museum in Portugal. Anyway, Amel—I mean, Mrs. Shadbark, has a little sitting area in that room, and that’s where we had tea. ” My, how well-bred Charleston detectives were. Tea pouring is, after all, a ritual, and not something a guest does for herself. “Yes, Brunhilde poured. ” He made note of that. ” “Scones with butter and peach preserves. ” “Wait a minute! Mrs. ” I sighed. I knew where he was going with that.

The family has pronounced it that way for three hundred years. ” C. —her friends lovingly refer to her as Calamity Jane—fingered the heavy paper as if it were the Holy Grail. Still, I held my breath. More often than not, C. J. lives up to her name. ” “Undoubtedly. But this tea is my entrée into Charleston society. ” She nodded. “Abby, it says here that you can bring a guest. Who is it going to be? ” “Mama’s at a church retreat in the mountains. ” 4 C. ’s eyes glittered. ” It was time to tread carefully.

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