Read Online 1 Who Killed My Boss? by Jerilyn Dufresne - Free Book Online

alone, I’ve changed my mind. Many times, she and I have shared the same meal. I’m a vegetarian however, and Clancy didn’t used to be, but she’s almost converted; she does have her limits and draws the line at tofu. I warmed up leftover vegetable lasagna and put some in her bowl along with some canine morsels. I poured a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and sighed contentedly. Sometimes life was really good.
    I had just finished my meal and was making a pot of decaf, when I heard a light tapping on my door. I opened it without looking to see who it was. Another bad habit from my childhood, but it’s one I had a hard time breaking. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness; then I noticed a man standing there. He was hiding in the shadows, and rocking back and forth on his heels.
    I said, “Can I help you?”
    A sad voice asked, “Are you the new lady at the clinic?”
    I answered in the affirmative.
    “Are you Father Brother’s sister?”
    Again I answered affirmatively, and then added, “Well, I used to be; I mean he used to be. Well, yeah.”
    “I know him from the hospital and he told me about you. I need to talk to you. Can I come in? Please?”
    The “please” did it. I didn’t know too many bad guys who would look and sound so sad and who would say “please” when they wanted to enter a house. So I stepped aside for him to enter. Besides, Clancy was still eating—a sure sign the stranger posed no threat to me.
    As he walked into the living room, I thought he might be the person that Georgianne Granville described. When he stepped into the light I also noticed that he was the “John Doe” from the ER earlier in the day.
    The first thing I said was, “Tell me your name.” I was tired of this “John Doe” thing.
    He looked surprised at my directness, but answered, “Charlie Schneider.”
    The puzzle pieces were multiplying, but a few were starting to fit. “Any relation to Gwen Schneider?”
    “Yeah,” he said, “she’s my sister. That’s why I’m here.”
    “Well, I thought it also could have something to do with the incident this morning in the ER. I saw your fascinating performance and since I’m a therapist and occasionally accept private patients, I thought you might be here for some counseling.”
    He gave me a look he could have learned from B.H. or Clancy. I decided to mind my manners and not glare back. Clancy didn’t have any such reservations, however. She decided to acknowledge his existence by staring. Charlie didn’t notice.
    “Can I sit down? I’m kinda tired.”
    I offered him a seat and I joined my dog on the couch. “Why don’t you just tell me what I can do for you?”
    He glanced around a little before looking me straight in the eye, and said, “They arrested my sister tonight for murdering Dr. Burns, and I know she didn’t do it. She told me you said you would help. Since you’re Father Brother’s sister, I thought I could trust you. I don’t know who else to go to, so here I am.”
    He made perfect sense to me, and that was scary. I quickly reassured him, “I know she didn’t do it, Charlie, but I don’t have any proof.”
    “I’m your proof,” he blurted. “I did it.”
    The corpse was barely cold and I’d already solved the murder. God, I’m good. Even Clancy was wagging her tail.

SEVEN
    S o I was sitting in my living room with my dog and a confessed murderer. And what did I do?
    “Charlie, would you like cream in your coffee? How about another piece of pie? You look like you could use something more to eat.”
    I wouldn’t let him talk while he was finishing the leftover lasagna, garlic bread, and pie. This was every mother’s dream—someone who really appreciated a good meal. I didn’t think it necessary to tell Charlie that the lasagna was made by Mama Manicotti in a sterilized kitchen and that the pie was frozen before I popped it in my oven. He gulped down two cups of coffee as if he were freezing. As he let out a very satisfied