A Crusty Murder by J. M. Griffin Read Free Book Online Page A

straight at me. Moving toward the middle of the car park, he stepped into a pool of light. I recognized him. It was Aidan Sinclair. My heart thumped erratically, my breathing was shallow and fast. Chills skittered up my spine, leaving me cold and shaken.
    Backed tight against the wall opposite the window, I sidled up the steps, feeling my way into the apartment. I turned on every light and lamp I had. When I’d changed into my pajamas, I shut the lights off and tiptoed to the window. The grounds were empty of everything but the neighborhood cat that slunk across the huge space.
    I leaned against the window frame. My mind raced with thoughts and questions that tumbled over one another.
     

Chapter 7
    Another day, another loaf of bread sold. Keeping track of sales and supplies was enough to make my tired brain swim. The murder of my landlady, the man of my dreams lurking about in the dark, and Detective Graham stopping by at the least opportune moment, left my head pounding and my temper short.
    “Mr. Denman wants to place an order for finger rolls and croissants, Melina,” Seanmhair called into the kitchen.
    Up to my armpits in dough, I snapped, “Can you take the order? I’m busy.”
    Seanmhair stepped through the door and stared at me in silence. She fetched the order pad from the shelf and went on her way. I blew a hefty sigh and shook my head. Never had I spoken to my grandmother in that tone. Shame rolled over me as I cleaned my hands of dough and flour.
    The bell over the front door tinkled. Mr. Denman had left the shop. I rounded the work table and went out to apologize to Seanmhair. She wiped the glass counter with a damp cloth and then looked up at me.
    “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It was rude of me,” I said.
    “No apologies necessary,” Seanmhair answered. “You have a lot on your mind. Did you not sleep well? Do you wish to speak of it?”
    “Not really. There’s so much going on right now and Detective Graham stopped by last night with more questions. Then Aidan came by, which is another issue in and of itself.” I beckoned Seanmhair to the kitchen. While I worked, I explained the evening before.
    She listened, brewed a pot of tea, and gathered muffins from the bakery case. Then she set it all down on a clean table. When Seanmhair cajoled me into joining her, I did willingly.
    “This situation has gotten under your skin,” Seanmhair noted. “It’s not like you to react like this. What can I do to help?”
    “There isn’t much I can do, so I have nothing to ask of you,” I responded. “All the tenants plan to meet tonight. If you’d like to stay and be an extra pair of eyes for me, I’d be grateful for that. We’re meeting at five in BettyJo’s shop.”
    Seanmhair nodded and left the table when the entry bell sounded. She assured me that she’d be happy to stay for the get together. Relieved at her willingness to observe the group, I cleared away our snack remains and finished the job at hand.
     
    *    *    *
     
    Five o’clock rolled around quicker than I’d anticipated. My days were crazy and seemingly shorter. How had my life gotten so far out of control? Why would anyone want to incriminate me? I had no enemies and from what I could tell, neither did BettyJo. Then Aidan’s face popped into my mind. Weary and worried, I straightened the shop for the night and headed upstairs to change.
    I followed my fellow renters as they shuffled into the reading room. BettyJo had set out chairs and dragged the sofa in from the waiting room to accommodate all of us.
    We greeted one another like long lost friends, though we hardly ever met, except over business concerns. This meeting was no different, other than we had one common goal, to find out what each of us knew about Mrs. Peterson’s demise.
    Seanmhair had arrived early to take the best seat, one that offered her a view of everyone in the room. She threw me a smile and a wink.
    Once everyone settled comfortably, George Carly and I