Murder on the Eightfold Path by Diana Killian Read Free Book Online

comfort to my clients to know there’s something on the other side.”
    A.J. remembered what Stella had said earlier about being lonely. Loneliness led people into doing all kinds of dangerous and foolish things. Attending séances might even be one of the less foolhardy.
    She studied Stella’s weathered face. “Before I met you I thought all séances took place in auditoriums. Well, except the ones in movies.”
    “That’s a stage mediumship séance. I don’t have much faith in that. I prefer the personal touch myself.”
    A.J. remembered the séance they had held after Aunt Diantha’s death. It had been inconclusive—and a little scary, frankly. But she had seen all kinds of movies where people tried to solve crimes by conducting séances. She tried to picture summoning Dakarai Massri’s spirit. Did he even know who had killed him? Did people go into the afterlife as confused and misinformed as they were in the here and now?
    Stella had plenty of ideas on that topic. She was still offering her theories over coffee and creamy rice pudding (Stella being apparently unfamiliar with the concept of low carbs) when Andy, A.J.’s ex, called.
    “What the heck is going on down there? It’s all over the TV that Ellie’s been arrested for murder,” Andy demanded, uncharacteristically not even pausing for the usual civilities.
    Andy and Elysia had always been close—closer than A.J. and Elysia in fact, even after Andy had left A.J. to be with another man.
    “On TV?” gulped A.J.
    “Of course. Well, she is a cultural icon,” he added with what A.J. couldn’t help feeling was misplaced pride.
    A.J. explained about Dakarai Massri, which took some doing. Andy listened in stunned—and uncharacteristic—silence.
    “Your mother is accused of murdering a blackmailing Egyptian gigolo?” Andy repeated a little faintly when she had finished.
    A.J. pleaded, “Can we refer to him as a blackmailing Egyptian antiquities expert? It doesn’t sound quite so seedy.”
    “It doesn’t?” Andy swallowed loudly enough for A.J. to hear it clear across the New Jersey Turnpike. “So what are you going to do? Prove she’s innocent, I assume?”
    That was another reason Andy and Elysia got on so well; they both fancied themselves master detectives, with A.J. as their unwilling Watson. An unhealthy diet of TV mystery shows had persuaded them both that anyone was equipped to investigate major crime.
    “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” A.J. said firmly, just as though she hadn’t been contemplating that very idea most of the afternoon. “It’s Jake’s case and you know how he felt the last time—”
    Andy interrupted, “It’s Jake’s case? Jake arrested your mother? Your boyfriend arrested your—”
    “Thanks, Andy, I already know that part, and don’t tell me Nick wouldn’t do the same to your mother if his bosses at the FBI gave the order.”
    “Well, yeah, but Nick doesn’t like my mother.”
    A.J. had no response to that. Andy’s mother was hard to like, although A.J. was sort of fond of her in spite of it all.
    “It’s ridiculous,” Andy was protesting. “Ellie wouldn’t hurt a fly. So what are you going to do?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve hired a lawyer. Well, Mr. Meagher is hiring a top notch criminal attorney for me.”
    “An attorney? You can’t let this go to trial. You can’t just sit there and let that bastard railroad Ellie!” Since Andy actually liked Jake, his choice of epithet indicated how worked up over this he was getting.
    “I can’t do much about it at the moment.” A.J. explained about putting her back out, and Andy was appropriately sympathetic—and momentarily diverted. She took the opportunity to ask after his own health; Andy had been diagnosed with MS the previous summer. It had been a rocky time, but thanks in part to yoga he had found a delicate balance between fighting to stay as well as possible and learning to accept what couldn’t be cured.
    “I’m holding my