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

the bookkeeping processes and daily deposits.
    â€œLet me know if you need anything.” I gazed around the shop that had defined my life for the last five years.
    Aunt Jackie gave me a hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of the shop.”
    That was what worried me. Before she retired, Aunt Jackie had run the most successful coffee shop in her neighborhood for thirty years. Even before they called them coffee shops. Asking her in to help felt more like surrendering my life. I hoped I’d be able to walk back in when this was all over.
    After handing over my life to my aunt, I went down to Lille’s to retrieve my car. I had to head back to Bakerstown today and finish up the details for Miss Emily’s service. Maybe I could charm some information from Doc Ames. There must be a reason why the autopsy had convinced Greg that Miss Emily had been murdered.
    I practiced my best off-the-cuff questions as I got into my Jeep. I turned the key and stared at a flyer stuck to my windshield. Leaning out the driver’s door, I grabbed the offending paper. Probably South Cove Vineyard’s weekly announcement of a wine tasting on Sunday. Darla, the winery owner, kept trying to get a steady local clientele built to supplement her tourist crowd.
    She’d spoken on local marketing during last month’s Business to Business meeting sponsored by the council. I resented getting a flyer on my car every week, but I couldn’t fault her tenacity. Planning local advertising for the coffee shop would go on the to-do list as soon as I finished planning the funeral and remodeling the house. Throwing the paper on the passenger seat, I drove to Bakerstown.
    The drive took just twenty minutes, but the trip took me smack-dab down the coastal highway for a long stretch. A lot of Mondays I made the drive just to clear my head and drink in the ocean’s energy. Sitting on a deserted beach with waves crashing calmed my head and my heart. My body recharged, adjusting to the wave rhythm and resetting my internal clock. It might be metaphysical hoo-haw, but the results felt like magic, so who was I to judge? Today I had no time for a stop on the beach, but the drive calmed me just the same.
    Last night’s open door problem kept nagging at me. Had George and his wife actually made the drive down to see what they missed out on in the will? I figured they were more likely to spend their time with their lawyer, scheming about how to get their hands on whatever money Miss Emily left me. Although I didn’t feel totally comfortable with the inheritance, I felt better after meeting the meek George and bull-like Sabrina. Miss Emily must have thought she had a choice of leaving her money to me or the Church of Diseased Cats.
    My cell rang in my purse. Keeping one hand on the wheel, I dug through my purse with my right hand, without looking down once. I grabbed the phone and flipped it open. “Yes?”
    â€œWhere are you?” Amy’s voice came over the speakerphone.
    â€œI thought you were taking off on some trip.”
    â€œThis evening. Listen, where are you?” Amy asked, her voice terse.
    â€œOn my way to the funeral home, why?” Amy never called me during the day, unless we were heading to Lille’s for lunch.
    â€œYour lawyer’s here,” Amy mumbled.
    â€œHold on, I can’t hear you.” I rolled up the window, cutting out the road noise. I couldn’t understand her. I thought she said my lawyer was at the mayor’s office. I didn’t have a lawyer, unless you counted Jimmy Marcum. My appointment with him had been changed to Monday. “Okay, go ahead.”
    If anything, Amy’s voice got lower. “The lawyer from Miss Emily’s letter. He’s here in Mayor Baylor’s office. He just went in.”
    I slowed down and considered turning back to South Cove. “How do you know it’s him?” I glanced at the clock on the