Seven Deadly Samovars

Seven Deadly Samovars

By Morgan St. James and Phyllice Bradner

Published by L&L Dreamspell

Spring, Texas

Visit us on the web at
www.lldreamspell.com

L&L Dreamspell Edition Copyright 2009 by Morgan St. James and Phyllice Bradner

All Rights Reserved

Cover and Interior Design by L & L Dreamspell

     No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations used in a review.

     This is a work of fiction, and is produced from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people is a coincidence. Places and things mentioned in this novel are used in a fictional manner.

ISBN- 978-1-60318-135-8

Published by L & L Dreamspell

Produced in the United States of America

Visit us on the web at
www.lldreamspell.com

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Sincere thanks to our first readers for their suggestions, praise, and  brutally honest critiques.  We are especially grateful to Judy Deutsch and Mary Goodkin for their keen eyes and helpful comments.  Special thanks goes to Stan Arend for his inspiration for the ending. Kudos to Morgan’s husband, Hugh Kottlove, for constantly cheering us on and for being our consulting physician when we have medical questions. We are so grateful to Henderson Writers’ Group for critiques and help, Sisters in Crime/LA and all of the many people we may not have mentioned by name who are there when we need them. Our editor, Cindy Davis, deserves special praise for her excellent help in making this a better book, and our publishers, L&L Dreamspell truly were a “dream” to work with.

DEDICATION

To our dear mother and all our fun-loving relatives and friends, in this world and beyond, who have given us a wealth of subject matter to draw upon.  And to our loyal readers who tell us how much they love our quirky characters, wacky names and ploys that backfire.  We appreciate your constant encouragement and requests for more Silver Sisters escapades.

SAMOVAR:

A large metal urn traditionally used in Russia to heat water for tea. The container has a faucet near the bottom and a metal pipe running vertically through the middle which is filled with solid fuel to heat the water. Many samovars have an attachment on the lid to hold a small teapot used to brew the
zavarka
, a strong concentrate of tea. The Russian expression “to have a sit by samovar” means to have a leisurely talk while drinking tea.

ONE

       Goldie Silver slammed down the phone.
Can’t trust anyone these days. Late again. I’ve had it!
She stomped over to the stairs at the back of the Silver Spoon Antique Shoppe and yelled, “Rudy, get down here.”

A balding beanpole in his mid-sixties flew through the open door and ran down the stairs. He tripped over an inert ball of black fur at the bottom and caught hold of the stair rail for support. The fat cat stretched, blinked and slinked toward his favorite perch in the front window. The man turned his back on the finicky feline.

With his shirt sleeves rolled up, orange fluorescent bowtie askew and purple suspenders attached to neatly pressed trousers, Goldie’s assistant Rudy was an odd looking duck. “What’s up, boss? Need something fixed?” He looked at her expectantly.

She squinted to see the notes on her pad. “Yeah! See if you can fix my problem with the D-C-C-R-M-F-R-R!”

Rudy looked heavenward. “The what?”

“The Russian customs department. All their agencies have names a mile long. I know that’s asking a lot. Maybe you could just call that darn Pistov Forwarders to see if you can get them to track our shipment of Russian antiques. I swear, Juneau has to be the hardest place in the world to get freight delivered. I’ll never get those samovars here in time for the church ladies.”

“Don’t get your britches in a bunch, Goldie, it ain’t so bad. There’s plenty of places worse’n this.”

“Like the moon?”

“Hey, take Sitka, for instance. That church waited a whole year for a stained glass window from some fancy Eye-talian glassmakers. They sent it to Stuttgart instead of Sitka. When it finally arrived, they opened the crate and it was a Star o’ David. They went ahead and put the darned thing up anyway, didn’t they? What the heck? It’s a window, ain’t it?”

A little smile played on Goldie’s lips. “That’s not a very comforting story, Rudy.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s a big point of interest now. Gives the tourists something to talk about. So see, things work out.”

“Okay.” She reached for a dusty pleated skirt in McGregor tartan and waved it in his face. “So, if the church didn’t mind having a Jewish star in their window, maybe the Sisterhood of St. Nicholas could give Father Innocent a nice Scottish kilt instead of an antique Russian tea urn.”

“Calm down boss. Our boys in Vladivostok probably just sent the order out a little late.”

Goldie Silver plopped down in her chair trying to control her anger. Rudy was right, it could be worse. So far her samovars were only two weeks late. The door banged open and two plump women in cheerfully flowered dresses marched purposefully to the back of the shop.

Nora, the taller one, smiled. “Okay, Goldie. Let’s see what you’ve got to choose from. Father Innocent is going to be so surprised when he opens his retirement gift and sees a genuine Russian samovar. We’ve even collected a little extra money from everyone.”

The shorter lady broke in, “You know, in case there is something really special but it’s more expensive.” She grinned, exposing a chipped front tooth.

Goldie winced. Every morning for the last two weeks the tenacious Russian Orthodox women appeared the moment she opened. The dear old priest would be leaving them soon, and she could understand their excitement at the prospect of giving their beloved Father Innocent such a wonderful gift. His replacement, Father Augustine, had already arrived. Time
was
running out.

“I’m sorry ladies, the shipment still isn’t here. I’ve got Rudy checking on it right now. I don’t…”

The two women glowered at her. Nora loomed angry and menacing. Dora shuffled back and forth as though she had to go to the bathroom.

“You said the shipment would be here two weeks ago and you still have nothing to show us,” Nora huffed.

Goldie shot Rudy a desperate glance. “Anything on the samovars, Rudy? These ladies...”

Nora pushed up her sleeves, like Popeye getting ready for a fight. “These ladies are going to bust some chops if that shipment doesn’t get here before Father Innocent leaves.”

Dora was more diplomatic. “We can’t wait much longer, you know. That nice young Father Augustine has already come to take his place. Nora thinks he’s too young, wet behind the ears, you know,” she tried to stifle a giggle, “but I think he’s real handsome. Clever, too.”

Rudy leaned over the counter and patted Dora’s arm. “Now don’t you ladies get your blood pressure up, we’ll get them samovars in time.”

They all turned around as the door flew open again, and the bell jingled furiously. A whale of a woman with bright red hair, wearing a caftan covered in red and gold swirls, huffed and puffed as she lumbered into the crowded antique shop.

Belle Pepper was three hundred and seventeen pounds of pure drama. She plucked a crumpled hankie from her purse and mopped her damp forehead. “I just came from the Russian church.” She gulped, trying to catch her breath as her multicolored bosom heaved up and down. “He’s dead! The priest is dead!”

Nora and Dora chorused, “Father Innocent? Dead?”

Belle shook her head wildly. “Not Father Innocent. Father Augustine! He’s been murdered. Right there in the church.”

With that, Belle collapsed on one of the antique settees in the middle of the store, and Goldie held her breath, praying it would support her mother-in-law’s weight.

TWO

       It took three cups of chamomile tea for Goldie’s mother-in-law to fill her in on all the gossip surrounding the young priest’s murder. “Your friend, Ollie Oliver, is the most worthless Chief of Police I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even know where to begin. No motive, no clue.”

Goldie sighed. “Yeah, he is pretty clueless sometimes.”

Belle harrumphed, gathered up her tote bags and headed for the door. As she was leaving, she called over her shoulder, “Thanks for the tea, Goldie, I’m off to order the balloons for my salmon bake. See ya.”

The moment the door slammed shut, Goldie broke out in a cold sweat.

Rudy looked up. “What’s got hold of you?”

“You mean besides the missing samovar shipment and Father Augustine’s murder?”

“Yes’m, you look like your evil twin sister put the mo-jo on you.”

“Well sort of, but it’s really more about Belle. When she mentioned the salmon bake, I remembered I was supposed to invite Godiva and the whole family to her seventy-fifth birthday bash. I completely forgot.” A swift glance at the calendar confirmed the worst. Belle’s big salmon bake was less than two weeks away.

“How are you gonna hornswaggle her into comin’ two thousand miles to sing Happy Birthday to someone she don’t even like?”

“Belle wants Mom and Unk to come, too. I think she’s got the hots for him.”

“Whoo hoo,” Rudy swung an invisible lasso with his right hand, “I’m glad I’m not in yer Uncle Sterling’s boots!”

“Try calling Pistov Forwarders again and if the church ladies phone, tell them I’ve gone to Russia to get their samovar.”

Goldie took a deep breath and ducked into the back room. First she needed to call her daughter Chili, who worked for Godiva’s boyfriend, the famous chef Caesar Romano. Then she would have to bite the bullet and dial her sister’s number.

* * * *

Angel Batista waved a letter in the air to get her boss’ attention. “Wait till you hear this one. You’re gonna love it.”

Goldie’s identical twin, Godiva Olivia DuBois, looked up from writing an answer for her syndicated advice column,
Ask G.O.D.
With an
all-knowing Mae West look, she fluffed her mane of silver hair. “Okay, Toots, let’s have it, and it better be good.”

Angel giggled. “You put me in the dirt when you do that imitation. I’m so glad I left the L.A. Times when you offered me this job. Besides, it’s way nicer working in a Beverly Hills mansion than a six-by-six cubicle in downtown Los Angeles.” She cleared her throat. “Okay, here it is.”

Dear G.O.D.,

I work in an insurance agency and yesterday a client came in with her grandson. While she was signing papers the little boy pointed to a photo of my husband Jack and our dog Bozo and said, “Look Grandma, she knows my daddy and his friend’s doggie, Bozo!” The little boy looks just like him, and the woman gushed about her wonderful son-in-law Jack. My husband does spend a lot of time away on business trips. Do you think he could be a bigamist?

—Doubtful in Duluth

Godiva gave a thumbs up. “You’re right, Angel. It’s a winner. Answer it like this…”

Dear Doubtful,

Looks like your dog isn’t the only Bozo in the family. Tell your hubby you’d like to invite your client’s son-in-law over to meet his “double”. Be sure to have the video camera running. You might win a prize on America’s Funniest Videos. And keep his life insurance paid up. No telling what his other wife might do when she finds out.

—G.O.D

Angel pushed her huge glasses a little higher on her tiny nose. “Good call, Boss, you always come up with such great answers.”

“Now it’s your turn to answer,” Godiva said. “Pick up the phone. It’s Goldie.”

Angel had gotten used to the E.S.P. Godiva shared with her identical twin. She reached for the receiver just as it began to ring. “G.O.D.’s little Angel speaking, may I help you?” Her stock greeting drew Goldie’s delighted laughter.

“Hi Angel, I’ll bet Godiva told you I was on the line. Is she standing there looking all superior and smiling like a Cheshire cat?”

“Actually, she is. It blows me away every time she does that. Good thing it’s only with you, otherwise it would really freak me out. I’m putting you on hold for a sec.” She nodded to Godiva.

After a little warm up chat, Goldie sucked in her breath and said very rapidly, “Belle’s seventy-fifth birthday is coming up on June seventeenth and she’s planning a fabulous salmon bake. Half the town is invited and she insists you come and bring Caesar, Mom and Uncle Sterling. I just talked to Chili and she can’t wait to see Grandma Belle.”

Godiva snorted. “Whoop de doo. Belle’s birthday. How exciting.”