Read Online Guidebook to Murder by Lynn Cahoon - Free Book Online

sure you don’t want to just stay at the apartment? I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
    Now I knew she thought I was crazy. Aunt Jackie never offered to sleep on the couch. “I want to stay at the house. If nothing else, it will keep the local kids from thinking it’s their new party place. Besides, that way when I get up I can get a head start on cleaning.”
    As we drove the few blocks down Main Street, I wondered if Miss Emily had any other living relatives besides the weasel-faced George and his pushy wife. I had been so sure she’d mentioned a son. I felt the car slow and realized we were in front of the house.
    â€œWell, if you’re sure.” Aunt Jackie leaned around me to stare at the dark house, looking more and more like a horror movie set than the charming Victorian it could be after remodeling.
    I handed her the extra key to the shop and the apartment. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I gave her a quick hug and stepped out of the car. “I’ll meet you at the shop tomorrow at seven to go over everything. One of Lille’s staff will drop off the pastries just before eight. Thanks for coming.”
    I hoped she was up to it. I didn’t get a lot of business during the week, mostly townies who liked their coffee dark and simple. The challenge would be this weekend when the tourists poured into South Cove. Maybe by then I’d be a little more organized and able to help out.
    â€œNot a problem, my dear.” She was still looking past me at the house. “Jill, did you leave the front door open?”
    I glanced over my shoulder. My breath caught. The door stood wide open. “I guess maybe I did.”
    I couldn’t remember. I’d been cleaning out a bedroom on the second floor after I met with the mayor. I’d lost track of time until Aunt Jackie had called, already waiting in front of the shop. I’d produced piles of garbage bags sorted by things to donate, things to show the antique dealer coming next weekend, and things to trash. But when I left the house that evening, I’d gone out the back door to the driveway where I’d left the Jeep. I hadn’t gone through the front all day.
    Had it been open since the police visit two days ago? I started walking toward the house.
    â€œShould we call somebody?” Aunt Jackie called out from the safety of her Escape.
    â€œNo, it’s fine. I’m sure I just left it open.” I had my cell phone in my hand, ready if I saw anything out of place. I sobered up quickly. First the close call with the head-on collision and now this.
    Aunt Jackie’s car stayed running by the side of the curb. I walked to the door, pushing it completely open with my foot. The hand that didn’t carry the cell phone reached to the left to search for the light switch. Grasping, I couldn’t seem to find it, and my eyes searched the blackness for any sign of movement.
    Finally, I felt the switch. Light flooded the living room and pooled out on the porch. I scanned the room quickly. Nothing. Nothing out of place, no masked man in black waiting with a knife. Just the circa 1930s furniture and mail from the last two days, dropped on the floor from the mail slot in the door.
    I walked back to the porch. “It’s fine,” I yelled to Aunt Jackie, who now stood outside her car, watching me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I waved and smiled, hoping that would ease her concern enough to actually drive away.
    Aunt Jackie shrugged and got back into the car. She pulled away and made a U-turn on Main Street to head to the apartment. I went into the house and closed the door, listening for the dead bolt to click into place, making sure the door locked this time. Then I headed to the back door to do the same.
    When I went to bed, I put a chair under my bedroom door. No one was in the house, I had checked each nook and cranny, but still, it didn’t hurt to be a