Deadly Charm by Claudia Mair Burney Read Free Book Online

shouldn’t have wondered. Should have just said no, like Nancy Reagan told us in the eighties.
    Go back home, Bell . I hadn’t yet touched the ice cream in my freezer. The Godiva store had plenty of chocolate-covered strawberries—just in time for Valentine’s Day—and I could make it there by the time they opened. No harm, no foul. Let Maggie handle the crisis.
    But, no, I soldiered on.
    My heart pounded, and I took a few steps toward the building, telling myself that it was good news that brought my loved ones together.
    Not!
    Good news, my eye! It was more likely that an episode of the Jerry Springer show awaited me! I didn’t want Jerry Springer. I wanted my client Bill, who compulsively sang Chaka Khan songs. He at least was easy to deal with.
    The conspicuous absence of the blue, unmarked, police-issued Crown Victoria that my husband, Jazz, drove didn’t escape my attention. Whatever they’d planned to ambush me with, Jazz wasn’t in on it.
    I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.
    I gathered my strength about me like I would pull my great-grandmother’s quilt around my shoulders. If she were here, my namesake would say, “It ain’t courage if you ain’t scared.” Besides, if they could ambush me at work, they could ambush meat home. I should be thankful they weren’t all crowded into my apartment.
    I got out of the Love Bug, fortifying myself with the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
    I went with the long version. I figured it couldn’t hurt since I didn’t know what awaited me. I slipped quietly into the corridor of my office. The scent of a special Valentine’s Day coffee blend that Maggie got from Whole Foods greeted me. It had a sumptuous chocolate and raspberry flavor that made my toes curl inside my shoes. In a good way. It occurred to me that my heightened senses probably meant I’d been overcome by hormones and was now in the throes of a biological nightmare intent on barring me from motherhood for good. My poor, ailing biological clock. Every now and then I’d hear a cough or sputter from it as it marched in a funeral procession toward its premature death. Most days I pretended not to hear it. My marriage had crashed and burned. Why not my reproductive organs, too?
    Nary a soul was at Maggie’s desk. I’d hoped to find her holding court in the reception area as per usual, ready to give me a full report on what I’d be walking into.
    â€œMaggie?”
    She called from inside my office, “Amanda Bell, is that you?”
    â€œWho else would it be? Everybody else is already here.”
    â€œDon’t get smart with me.”
    Honestly! I’m about to get roasted and still have to watch my mouth.
    I passed through the reception area and stepped into my office. Everybody indeed sat in there, and by everybody, I mean allthe important people in my life, with two very notable exceptions: Jazz and my daddy.
    Sasha, my mother, controlled the gathering from my favorite, way-cool purple leather office chair—which I’d bought myself as a belated birthday gift.
    Both of the fine European wingback chairs Maggie had given me when I opened my office were filled, as well as the few cute, armless modern chairs usually in my reception area. Carly, in scrubs, sat in one of the wingbacks. Her black hair hung past her shoulders. An unlit cigarette dangled precariously from her mouth.
    Next to her, my girlfriend Kalaya sat, tall, gloriously brown, with long legs crossed, resplendent in her class-with-sass style. She sat by her boyfriend Souldier, also known as cocoa brown, dreadlocked fineness. He also happened to be my husband’s best friend. Souldier, a midnight-shift man, had probably just gotten off work. He still had on his heavy blue nylon Crime Scene Unit jacket.
    My in-laws, Jack and Addie Lee Brown, were present and accounted for,