With Friends Like These... (An Amanda Pepper Mystery Book 4)

By Gillian Roberts

Famous Broadway playwright and television manufacturer Lyle Zacharias is throwing himself a lavish celebration in his homeland of Philadelphia. visitors comprise his present spouse, ex-wives, pals, former partners—not to say Amanda Pepper and her personal irrepressible mom, Bea. but while Lyle drops lifeless in the course of a speech, apparently the most probably culprit is none except Bea, whose present was once fifty scrumptious, yet it sounds as if poisoned, tarts!

It's as much as Amanda to transparent her mother's identify and locate the genuine murderer…before she or he moves back! yet Amanda herself could be the subsequent aim! Who says educating isn't really intriguing? With to any extent further pleasure, Amanda must retire prior to she hits thirty-one…if she lives that lengthy!

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It hadn’t labored as soon as, so why now not repeat it? I made a moment unannounced flip, correct this time, onto a one-way highway. I instantly regretted the alternative. i wished opposing site visitors, somebody i'll wave to, scream to, somebody who may miraculously rescue me. yet why should still site visitors styles be any in the direction of pleasurable your heart’s wish than the rest was once? Don’t panic, I instructed myself, shedding my former, extra bold recommendation to imagine. remain calm. it's a actual problem to think about one’s ideas whereas your vehicle, of its personal volition, is violating the rate legislation and also you are brainless and paralyzed, eyes immediately forward, pulse hammering, fingers locked at the wheel like a crash dummy. I crossed JFK street and marketplace in that mode, with all of the terrified prisoners in my mind cells screaming do whatever! effortless for them to assert. Do what? the place? I wasn’t approximately to steer the crazed pickup domestic. definitely couldn’t visit my parking zone. there has been no attendant at this hour, and that i wasn’t strolling the few blocks domestic from it. The streets had became greater than suggest. And it appears I couldn’t even get myself arrested for dashing this night. anywhere every body was once in this foul evening, the site visitors law enforcement officials have been between them. i used to be afraid the pickup used to be going to bump my motor vehicle, push it round, strength me off the line, however it didn’t. My pursuer appeared in basic terms to wish to bother and frighten me. He used to be succeeding, too. He stayed inches away, blaring his horn into the evening. If we have been going to play cat and mouse, i'd a lot fairly play the cat. I hated this—hated being by myself, susceptible, pursued. i used to be in a burgundy ’65 Mustang in middle urban Philadelphia, yet in my brain I wore a cloak, and throughout me have been desolate moors and howling wind. a lady by myself. A sufferer. And my epitaph may learn: this used to be Mackenzie’s fault. he must have been there. rattling! i used to be so stunned by way of my very own ideas, I stomped so challenging at the fuel pedal the automobile approximately broke the sound barrier. It still didn't lose the pickup. yet all of the same—what had provoked that idea? That girl at the moors? Had I develop into an urbanized damsel in misery, waving my palms, calling for Mackenzie, ripping my bodice and fleeing up the steps into the haunted residence? A whining, puling girlie woman? The horror of it made my mind sit back in. I made a plan. “Okay! ” I shouted, most likely to the pickup, extra truthfully to myself. Loud felt solid. far better than the tears that another way threatened. “Follow me, with the intention to a lot! ” I sped up again—over around the Chestnut highway Transitway, which, fortunately, used to be empty of pedestrians. I observed a really startled highway individual leap again. “Sorry,” I shouted. And the following time it was once attainable, after Walnut, I made a pointy left and floored it. The pickup had figured it out and didn’t hesitate. I observed an arm, a gloved hand pop out of its window—but the incorrect one. The passenger facet. there has been a couple of of them. I took deep breaths, one for every of my pursuers, for every. 3. don't panic. I regarded round for an open shop or eating place.

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