A Sensitive Kind of Murder (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner Read Free Book Online Page A

hurt?”
    “She isn’t hurt at all,” Jade told me. “I just wanted you to yell at her for doing something so stupid.”
    I sat down in the comfy chair at the end of my desk and began crying. I didn’t want to yell at anyone. I was just glad that my two warehousewomen were alive and well. I wished I could have said the same for Steve Summers. As the tears ran from my eyes, I realized that Wayne wasn’t the only one in shock about Steve Summers’ death. I had simply managed to numb myself with speculation about his murderer.
    “Kate?” I heard Wayne’s voice from the living room. He sounded worried.
    I blew my nose and yelled back, “It’s nothing, just some problems at Jest Gifts.”
    “Kate, what’s your problem?” Jade demanded.
    “Nothing,” I lied again. “Just tell Jean to stack them on the lower shelves. The top shelves are only for soft, light things.”
    “ I know that!” Jade shouted.
    “Good,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”
    “Wait a sec,” Jade stopped me. “I gotta tell you about the acupuncture earrings. They’re all bent. They were shipped that way.”
    “I’ll call the manufacturer tomorrow—”
    “And the new hollow-tooth computer mousse…”
    Business reality, no matter how mundane, has a way of bringing you back to, well, business reality. By the time I hung up the phone, my head had stopped spinning.
    I was writing myself notes when Wayne’s business phone rang. I just hoped that a minor crisis at Wayne’s restaurant cum gallery, La Fête à L’Oie, would bring him back to earth, too. A curdled béarnaise sauce, wilted escarole, limp rotini—anything but Steve Summers.
    I had actually forgotten Felix until he yelled out from the living room, “Sheesh, Lucy, if no one’s gonna friggin’ listen to me, I’m outta here.”
    I kept quiet, but I didn’t hear a door slam.
    I made my way back into the living room cautiously. Felix was sitting cross-legged on the couch with his eyes closed.
    “Felix?” I tried.
    “Shush!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m friggin’ meditating?”
    I drew myself up to my full height. It wasn’t much, but it was all my short, A-line body had to offer.
    “Spirit is everywhere, Felix,” I pronounced. “Go find it in your own apartment.”
    He opened one eye.
    “Really, Kate?” he asked softly.
    “Really,” I assured him, belatedly realizing he was actually taking me seriously. I hoped I was telling the truth. He was asking an agnostic, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that.
    Finally he left, talking to me, or to himself, or maybe to one of those super-cool dead people from the other side, all the way down the stairs. All I heard that made any sense was “see ya later.” I slammed the door behind him and sunk back into the hanging chair.
    Wayne came wandering in the minute I heard Felix’s car start up. I had a feeling he’d been waiting for that sound. He took his place next to me in the hanging chair.
    “Everything all right at La Fête?” I asked.
    “Lost a busboy,” he murmured. “Kid left without notice. Went back to Canada.”
    Worse than curdled béarnaise but still no big deal, I decided, and pushed off with my feet, causing our hanging chair to swing gently back and forth. The passing air felt good on my face.
    “Felix is in spiritual crisis,” I commented after a few silent swings.
    “ We’re in real-life crisis,” was Wayne’s only comment.
    “Yeah,” I agreed helpfully.
    “What happened, Kate?” Wayne asked. I turned to him for clarification of the question, but then I saw his eyes. They were wide open for once, but it looked like someone had turned out the lights behind them.
    “Could someone at the group potluck really have killed Steve?” he asked, his voice dazed.
    I wanted to tell him no, but I couldn’t. So I just put my arm around his shoulders instead.
    “Sweetie—” I began.
    My cat, C. C, yowled from behind us. It was her opera yowl, the one she’d been