infatuations behind.
So what was different now? Why couldn’t I get the image of his sidelong glance or the sound of his voice out of my mind? How had I forgotten that he’d always called me Elliana, instead of Ellie like everyone else?
I remembered how he’d smelled of wool and cedar,and nearly ran a stop sign. Dash woofed his disapproval as the Wrangler lurched to a standstill.
Stop it. Think about something else.
Which, of course, led me back to my horrible discovery that morning, which, honestly, I’d been trying to avoid thinking about. Accelerating again, I considered why—and how—Josie could have been killed.
She’d worked at the Roux Grill thirty hours or so a week, mostly bartending but also waiting tables or even busing when things got busy. Harris and I had often argued over whether we should hire full-time or part-time staff, but he was unwilling to pay benefits. Hiring part-time help, especially during high tourist season, was a common practice in places like Poppyville, where the cost of goods was high and employee turnover higher. Some restaurants brought in students from other countries to work the busy times in the summer, paying them a pittance for the privilege of spending time in the United States and working their tails off. At least Harris had agreed that we should hire locals.
As I’d told the detectives, Josie had worked another twelve hours at my shop, split between Mondays and Tuesdays. She’d also cleaned houses for a few regular clients who had opted to live in low-key Poppyville rather than a larger city, but still had big houses and the bank accounts to match. I wasn’t sure who her current clients were.
Once, when we’d been chatting in the Roux Grill, Josie had told me her real dream was to make a living as a professional photographer. I’d encouraged her to hang a few pieces in the restaurant, and if they were anyindication of her overall talent, she might have really made a go of it.
Now she’d never have the chance.
“Who would do such a thing?” I asked Dash as I pulled into a parking space.
He cocked his head at me and made a noise low in his throat.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes with my fingertips.
• • •
I FOUND Astrid staring out the back window at the garden and nibbling on one of the otherwise untouched oatmeal cookies she’d brought that morning. Nabby, who had made himself scarce at the first sign of flashing lights earlier, now stretched languidly across his poufy bed. The red plush of the fabric accented the gray of his fur. A heavy purr rumbled from his chest, and he
mrow
ed when he saw me.
Astrid had turned when she heard the door open. Her eyes widened, and she quickly crossed to give me a big hug. She smelled of sugar and sandalwood, and I instantly felt better. After a few seconds, she held me at arm’s length and examined my face.
“Are you all right?”
My chin bobbed.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
The crease in her forehead eased a bit. “The policeasked a bunch of questions, but didn’t tell me much about what happened to Josie.”
“She was stabbed.”
Her throat worked. “Oh, good heavens. That’s awful. Do they know who did it?”
“Not unless they figured it out in the last few hours. I’m apparently a suspect, however.”
Astrid looked surprised, then frowned. “So that’s why they were asking me all those questions about you and Harris.”
I blinked. “Detective Lang said I was automatically a suspect because she was killed on my property. I imagine they asked about Harris and me simply because Josie worked for both of us.” At least, I hoped so.
The phone in the office rang. The noise made me jump, and I realized I was as jittery as an aspen in the wind.
“You want me to get that?” Astrid asked.
I shook my head. “I changed the message to let people know the shop is closed today.”
The ringing stopped, followed by the trilling of my cell phone in my pocket. I fished it out, inexplicably hoping
So what was different now? Why couldn’t I get the image of his sidelong glance or the sound of his voice out of my mind? How had I forgotten that he’d always called me Elliana, instead of Ellie like everyone else?
I remembered how he’d smelled of wool and cedar,and nearly ran a stop sign. Dash woofed his disapproval as the Wrangler lurched to a standstill.
Stop it. Think about something else.
Which, of course, led me back to my horrible discovery that morning, which, honestly, I’d been trying to avoid thinking about. Accelerating again, I considered why—and how—Josie could have been killed.
She’d worked at the Roux Grill thirty hours or so a week, mostly bartending but also waiting tables or even busing when things got busy. Harris and I had often argued over whether we should hire full-time or part-time staff, but he was unwilling to pay benefits. Hiring part-time help, especially during high tourist season, was a common practice in places like Poppyville, where the cost of goods was high and employee turnover higher. Some restaurants brought in students from other countries to work the busy times in the summer, paying them a pittance for the privilege of spending time in the United States and working their tails off. At least Harris had agreed that we should hire locals.
As I’d told the detectives, Josie had worked another twelve hours at my shop, split between Mondays and Tuesdays. She’d also cleaned houses for a few regular clients who had opted to live in low-key Poppyville rather than a larger city, but still had big houses and the bank accounts to match. I wasn’t sure who her current clients were.
Once, when we’d been chatting in the Roux Grill, Josie had told me her real dream was to make a living as a professional photographer. I’d encouraged her to hang a few pieces in the restaurant, and if they were anyindication of her overall talent, she might have really made a go of it.
Now she’d never have the chance.
“Who would do such a thing?” I asked Dash as I pulled into a parking space.
He cocked his head at me and made a noise low in his throat.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes with my fingertips.
• • •
I FOUND Astrid staring out the back window at the garden and nibbling on one of the otherwise untouched oatmeal cookies she’d brought that morning. Nabby, who had made himself scarce at the first sign of flashing lights earlier, now stretched languidly across his poufy bed. The red plush of the fabric accented the gray of his fur. A heavy purr rumbled from his chest, and he
mrow
ed when he saw me.
Astrid had turned when she heard the door open. Her eyes widened, and she quickly crossed to give me a big hug. She smelled of sugar and sandalwood, and I instantly felt better. After a few seconds, she held me at arm’s length and examined my face.
“Are you all right?”
My chin bobbed.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
The crease in her forehead eased a bit. “The policeasked a bunch of questions, but didn’t tell me much about what happened to Josie.”
“She was stabbed.”
Her throat worked. “Oh, good heavens. That’s awful. Do they know who did it?”
“Not unless they figured it out in the last few hours. I’m apparently a suspect, however.”
Astrid looked surprised, then frowned. “So that’s why they were asking me all those questions about you and Harris.”
I blinked. “Detective Lang said I was automatically a suspect because she was killed on my property. I imagine they asked about Harris and me simply because Josie worked for both of us.” At least, I hoped so.
The phone in the office rang. The noise made me jump, and I realized I was as jittery as an aspen in the wind.
“You want me to get that?” Astrid asked.
I shook my head. “I changed the message to let people know the shop is closed today.”
The ringing stopped, followed by the trilling of my cell phone in my pocket. I fished it out, inexplicably hoping
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