When Goldie Silver receives the wrong shipment of antique Russian samovars at her shop in Juneau, Alaska they sell quickly but people begin to die. What makes those tea dispensers worth killing for?
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Silver Sisters Mysteries
This is the second comical Silver Sisters crime caper in the series. The Silver Sisters Mysteries feature twin Mae West look-alikes, Goldie Silver--an over -the-hill flower child who owns an antique shop in Juneau, Alaska and her sister wealthy, manipulative Beverly Hills advice columnist Godiva Olivia DuBois. Born on different days of different months of different years and even different decades, these twins are as different as Goodwill and Gucci.
Their eighty year old mother and uncle, former vaudeville magicians, love to put on disguises and go undercover to help their girls. This time they almost do that great disappearing act in the sky.
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.”