Read Online Mesozoic Murder by Christine Gentry - Free Book Online

ninety minutes later.
    Ansel had been here once before when she had picked Nick up for a fossil-hunting trek along the Missouri River. He had lived in the one-story house with a deck, two-car garage, and basement until his separation. Pine trees abounded, and a large lava garden decorated the ground near the front door. Ansel rapped a brass fleur-de-lis knocker.
    She surveyed the flat, suburban topography while she waited. This regional shale bed had been caught in a mountain-making vise and folded so tightly that the strata had metamorphosed into a slate bed. During the Paleozoic era, a small mud and clay inlet existed here. It had been home to marine trilobites, brachiopods, and corals.
    A woman opened the door and did a noticeable double take. Had she never seen an Indian before? As an invisible wave of Giorgio perfume enveloped Ansel, she smiled despite her still churning stomach.
    â€œHello, Karen. I’m Ansel Phoenix.”
    â€œAnsel. Come in.”
    Karen stared once more out of wide, brown eyes haloed by sienna mascara and copper eyeshadow before turning abruptly. As Ansel stepped inside, she pulled the door shut with a resounding bang. Numerous limited edition bird prints rattled on their wall hooks. She winced as her head registered a stabbing complaint.
    Tall and sinewy, Karen looked like she’d stepped out of an Outfitters of the West catalog with a red plaid shirt, jeans, and black leather bullet belt. Observing Karen sashay through the foyer from behind was watching estrogen in motion.
    God, she’s stunning, Ansel concluded with a pang of jealousy. Even in that cowgirl getup, Karen moved like a graceful panther. There was no way Ansel could duplicate that long-legged, sexy stride. Her own body was short and thin, but any added weight went straight to her hips, which was great for straddling a loping horse or bearing broods of babies, but didn’t make her model material. She had the same narrow waistline, but her bust would never reach such fruitful proportions.
    Ansel followed her past a large verdigris bird cage standing on iron legs in the hallway. Inside two white birds cooed contentedly.
    â€œAlex gave me those,” Karen said. Her full lips were unsmiling beneath a glaze of beige lipstick and chocolate lip liner. “He’s such a romantic. Doves are supposed to be the messengers for Venus and good luck omens to lovers. They mate for life.”
    Annoyed at such a disloyal pronouncement to Nick’s memory, Ansel went on the offensive. “Who’s Alex?”
    â€œMy boyfriend.” Karen smiled, then made a point of studying her manicured nails.
    So Cameron’s quip about Karen playing house was true. How did Nick feel about that? He’d never mentioned Karen’s lover. Ansel wondered what the deep red, iridescent nail polish coating Karen’s talons was called. Cardinal Sin? Bloody Murder?
    Ansel yanked off her sunglasses and side-stepped the issue of Karen’s boy-toy by walking into the living room. The area was redecorated in pink and black art deco hues. Compared to the functional Sears furnishings of Karen’s married life, this was a quantum leap.
    â€œNice house.” Ansel paced across a Berber carpet the color of Kaopectate.
    â€œYou can sit anywhere.”
    Ansel selected a love seat upholstered in black crushed velvet. “I’d like to offer you my condolences and those of the Pangaea Society. If there’s anything we can do, please let me know.”
    Karen took a matching sofa. “I’ve put most of that fossil crap behind me. It ruined my marriage.”
    Despite Karen’s confrontational tone, Ansel smiled. “I know you and Nick had your differences but...”
    â€œWe had more than differences. It’s one thing to have an obsession with old plants but Nicky quitting his job was the last straw. My work at the bank couldn’t keep a roof over our heads or food on the table.”
    Ansel’s mouth