Murder Melts in Your Mouth by Nancy Martin

didn’t do away with the old piano? Oscar, do you play? I’d love some Cole Porter!”
    She began to hum “Too Darn Hot” and do her Ann Miller impersonation, which was really pretty good. She floated around the kitchen table, high kicking and waving her Pucci like wings. Lucy followed, pirouetting and flapping her arms.
    â€œWhee!” Lucy cried. “A party! Can we have cake?”
    Daddy beamed with pride and wrapped his arm around me. “A party breaks out wherever your mother goes.”
    â€œIt’s a gift!” Mama broke off singing. “Lucy, we had so many adventures while we were traveling. I can’t wait to tell you all about the anaconda that slithered into our tepee one night!”
    â€œMama,” I began, determined to avoid spending the next eight hours soothing the nightmares out of my niece.
    â€œAnd the twins!” Mama gushed. “I bet they’ve grown! Are they still interested in ancient death practices? Because I brought them each a Sri Lankan exorcism stick, and I’m dying to try them out. And this must be Maximus! Oh, what a strapping, darling boy you are!”
    She snatched little Max from my arms and cooed, nose to nose with the startled baby. “What beautiful curls you have. I only wish I’d met your father!”
    Max responded by flinging out one chubby hand and exclaiming, “Da!”
    Everyone followed the direction of Max’s gesture, and our collective stare landed on Michael.
    He stood frozen by the door, the wrench forgotten in his hand as he absorbed the return of my eccentric family. He’d been invisible until that moment. His face was blank, but a certain sort of fear glimmered in the back of his eyes.
    In a rush, I said, “Uh, Mama and Daddy, this is—this is—he’s—”
    â€œI’m the plumber,” Michael said.
    A few seconds of doubt ticked by before Daddy cleared his throat and said, “Muffin, why do you have a plumber here at this hour? Don’t you know home improvements cost extra at night?”
    Mama had placed her hand on her throat as if she needed help catching her breath. She gave Michael’s tall frame a thorough examination and obviously couldn’t decide whether she should be intimidated or impressed. With a frown, she said, “I know all the plumbers in this neighborhood. Heaven knows, they’ve all been here and caused more problems than they fix. But I don’t know this one.”
    Her gaze narrowed on him.
    â€œI’m new,” Michael said when he found his voice.
    â€œYou have beautiful eyes,” Mama said. “I might call them choirboy blue. Is that your assistant waiting outside?”
    â€œAssistant?” I asked. “Outside?”
    â€œYes, waiting in the car out there. A very large man.”
    â€œDelmar,” Michael said. “Yeah, my assistant.”
    Delmar, I knew, was Michael’s new bodyguard. A man the size of a dinosaur and possessing almost as much intelligence as a prehistoric beast. Why he was waiting outside for Michael, I didn’t want to imagine.
    Before my mother could continue her cross-examination, I quickly said, “The plumber came to get his—uh—wrench, see? And now he’s leaving.”
    â€œRight,” Michael said. “I’m leaving.”
    Lucy said, “But he’s not a—ow! Aunt Nora, you’re pinching me!”
    â€œSorry, Luce. My mistake. The plumber is going home now, that’s all. Say good night.”
    Smarter than the average six-year-old, Lucy said, “Oh, okay. Good night, Mr. Plumber. Come back soon!”
    Michael disappeared.
    And if I hadn’t been so furious with him, I might have followed.
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    Growing up with my parents had been a lot like living in Tornado Alley. They were constantly in motion, tearing up any obstacles that got in their way, and leaving chaos in their wake.
    As a young child, I’d loved the