Read Online A Murder in Mohair by Anne Canadeo - Free Book Online Page A

companionship? Big picture.
    This week, for some reason, Suzanne’s needling about engagement rings and commitment conversations—which to Lucy’s thinking was definitely in the lint category—was still distracting her, as if the probe had struck a filling Lucy hadn’t even realized was loose. Many a harmless dental exam had set off a toothache, that was for sure.
    Whenever her mind wandered back to the annoying topic, she forced herself to focus on paving stones. And by Wednesday at four, she found herself finished with the project. She happily delivered it via e-mail, with time to spare for a quick spin around the neighborhood before Matt got home.
    When she returned to the cottage, Matt’s truck was in the driveway and she found him out back, cleaning the grill.
    â€œHey, honey, have a good ride?” Matt looked up and smiled at her as he scoured the grate with a wire brush.
    â€œShort but fun. I’ve been at the computer all week. It was good to get the kinks out.” Lucy often found herself alternating between exercising too much and sitting too much.
    â€œWait until you get your new bike. Did you decide on the model? We need to order it soon if you want it for your birthday. Wait till you see the water bottle I found. State-of-the-art. It even has a charcoal filter.”
    Lucy met his glance and forced a smile. A few days ago, such a comment would have elicited a big, happy “Aren’t I a lucky gal?” sigh. But Suzanne’s pestering had tainted that perception and Lucy was silently mad at her pal . . . and yes, she had to admit it, feeling cranky with Matt about the entire subject.
    â€œI’m not sure yet,” she said quietly. She took a long drink of water while he watched her. Then she forced a smile. “I’m going to take a shower. Be right out.”
    â€œTake your time. I’ll start dinner.”
    She touched his arm and kissed his cheek as she walked by. He watched her, sensing she wasn’t quite herself. While a little voice in her head wished that Matt would ask her what was wrong, another, more persuasive voice, didn’t want to go there and hurried her into the house and up the stairs.
    When Lucy came down, she quickly fixed a salad, then joined Matt on the patio, where the table was set for two and a platter of perfectly grilled chicken and vegetables took center stage. Her troubled thoughts melted into the soft, purple dusk and the flash of fireflies in the garden, as she and Matt shared the events of their day.
    Matt had operated on a hamster, his first time performing surgery on such a small, delicate creature. “It was tricky but looks like the little guy is going to make it.”
    Lucy could tell he was proud. She was proud of him, too. He took his patients very seriously and went the limit for them.
    â€œThat’s great. What’s his name?”
    â€œHorace. Horace Hamster, I guess. We’d better get the surname straight before we send the bill.”
    â€œYou really need to double-check that,” Lucy agreed. She happily reported that she’d finished the masonry catalogue. “An entire hour before it was due. I’m definitely getting better with deadlines. I didn’t want to drag it out and miss my knitting group tomorrow night. A psychic is coming to Maggie’s shop.”
    â€œA psychic? You mean like a fortune-teller? She’s coming to knit with you?”
    â€œTo do a reading,” Lucy replied. “Her name is Cassandra Waters and she claims she can contact the spirits of people who have passed on. We met her at the Schooner Sunday morning. She said there were a lot of spirits waiting to speak to me.”
    Matt laughed. “Interesting. What do you think they want to tell you, Lucy?”
    Lucy shrugged and looked down at her plate, separating bits of chicken she planned to give the dogs. “I don’t know . . . that’s what I’m going to