By Anne George
Patricia Anne might swear that both she or her sister Mary Alice have been switched at delivery, other than they have been either born at home.Flashy, flirtatious Mary Alice is one foot taller, two times the bodyweight of Patricia Anne, and 3 instances as prone to do whatever thoroughly off the wall. yet now Mary Alice's impulsive habit has land them either within the Birmingham jail!It all starts off with a decision from their pal Mitzi Phizer, who is beginning an funding membership -- type of a Beardstown women workforce. Patricia Anne is prepared to make a small, conservative funding in a thriving chain of HMOs; Mary Alice is scorching to trot to place her funds on Viagra. yet prior to the membership notion will get off the floor, the sisters spot Mitzi's supposedly devoted husband in a chummy little huddle with a redhead -- and the following factor they be aware of, Arthur is accused of murdering the secret lady. not anything in regards to the complete sordid tale suits the type, lightly Arthur, and Patricia Anne is doing her top to console her sturdy acquaintances. but if their condominium catches on fireplace, and Arthur is shot in a spot that will not permit him to even take a seat at his personal homicide trial, the sisters recognize they must get up for the negative fellow. And that suggests trying out everybody -- from low-down cads to intellectual financial institution presidents -- to discover a no strong gun-toting arsonist who believes monstrous cash is to kill for.
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Extra info for Murder Shoots the Bull: A Southern Sisters Mystery (Southern Sisters Mysteries)
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Maybe she’s got osteoporosis. ” “Could be,” Mary Alice agreed. “That’s what’s going to happen to Patricia Anne. ” She curved her shoulders. ” Bonnie Blue brought us back to the subject, Arthur and his lady friend. ” Arthur helped Sophie Sawyer sit sideways on the seat, then picked up her legs and placed them in the car. “I hope he’s not selling her any life insurance,” Sister said. I don’t know why, maybe it was the gentleness of the way Arthur was helping Sophie, but I had a sudden memory of a weekend camping trip that the four of us, Arthur, Mitzi, Fred, and I, and our five children had taken years before.
She asked. ” Where on God’s earth had I been? I admitted that I had never seen the commercial. “Those red satin underpants would put your eyes out,” Bonnie Blue said. ” It must have been. ” Mary Alice set bowls of bread pudding before each of us and sat down. ” “It sounds like something I need to get into. I don’t have any more sense than Daddy does about money. Somebody comes in, says, ‘Abe, I’ll give you ten dollars for that picture you’re working on,’ he grabs the money and growls. ” Bonnie Blue’s father, Abe Butler, is one of Alabama’s foremost folk artists.
I walk Woofer and run into old childhood friends out walking their dogs or pushing grandchildren in strollers. There are bridge clubs and reading groups here that our mothers began decades ago and which are still going strong. But young people are moving in, too, delighted with the sidewalks and old trees. With the stability and the closeness of downtown Birmingham. We drove over Red Mountain and down into Jones Valley in a deepening twilight. The sun’s rays no longer glinted off Vulcan’s rear end, but God forbid that we should miss such a majestic sight.