Cancelled by Murder by Jean Flowers Read Free Book Online

I knew any of my regular customers, but I wouldn’t have expected to be at the top of his list in a crisis.
    â€œIf you can spare a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you, Cassie,” Cliff said. “Any time that’s convenient.” His voice was cracked and hoarse as he gave me his cell number.
    Curious, as well as eager to help in any way I could, I decided not to wait until I got home. I sat at my desk, surrounded by posters of commemorative stamps of the Civil War, this month’s special. I looked past the lobby through the double front doors to the outside, still light, and calm as a late-summer afternoon should be. The storm was long gone, but I knew its aftermath was just beginning for some. I took a deep breath and called Cliff’s number.
    â€œThanks for getting back to me, Cassie. I know you’re busy,” he said.
    â€œIf there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
    â€œThanks,” he said, his voice understandably weak. “I was doing okay at first, you know. Then when I heard . . .” He left unsaid the fact that a murder verdict had compounded his grief over his wife’s death.
    â€œThis has to be really hard for you. I don’t know what to say or how I can help.”
    â€œI do have a favor I want to ask. Can you come by this evening? Or I can go to your place. Or some place neutral if you want.”
    I thought a minute. “Let’s meet at Mahican’s. That way neither of us has to waste time getting drinks or anything.”
    Selfish, I admitted to myself. It was less likely that I’d have to deal with an emotional outburst from a grown man—a beefy one, at that—if we were in a public place. My psych classes and further training with the USPS went only so far in enabling me to handle extreme distress, which I imagined was Cliff’s current state.
    â€œWhenever you say.”
    I looked around and saw nothing urgent on my desk. “A half hour?” I asked.
    â€œI’ll see you there. Thanks, Cassie.”
    I finished packing up paperwork that I could take care of at home later and prepared myself to meet Cliff. I doubted I could be of help, but I hoped I could at least be a good sounding board if that was what he needed.
    *   *   *
    Cliff was at a corner table in Mahican’s, talking to Jules Edwards, his and Daisy’s accountant, a middle-aged man I’d met a couple of times in passing. They were head-to-head and seemed quite serious, and I figured that condolences were involved. I wasn’t sure if Jules intended to be part of my meeting with Cliff, so I ordered an iced drink at the counter and headed for an empty table where I could wait. Cliff saw me and waved me over.
    Jules, maybe an inch taller than my five-nine, greeted me with “How are you doing, Cassie?” and before I could answer he turned and addressed me over his shoulder as he was leaving. “See you around,” he said. Not part of the meeting apparently.
    Cliff stood, all six feet four of him. His muscles strained the fabric of his army green polo shirt. I put my plastic cup on his table and we shared a brief hug. I’d often thought that Cliff was the poster boy for a bouncer in a tough neighborhood, except that after a few minutes in his company, everyone knew that he was a gentle man and not about to abuse his gift of physical strength. It was well known that the small-framed Daisy was the more aggressive member of the family, the more involved in community issues, the more likely to speak her mind.
    â€œHe just walks around and carries a big stick,” Daisy often said of her husband.
    I pointed to where Jules had been seated and where I’d placed my mug. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said.
    â€œWe were done for now. Daisy’s the one who handled all the finances, for the house as well as the shop.” He