Pinned for Murder by Elizabeth Lynn Casey Read Free Book Online Page A

ordinary. In fact, if she allowed herself to really look , he was downright hot. In a smoldering, sexy, rugged kind of way.
    Forcing her gaze back to the door, she shifted from foot to foot, her left arm tightening around the bowl of fruit salad she’d whipped together before leaving for the library that morning.
    “Tori? You okay?”
    Say something . . . Say something . . .
    “Sorry. I blanked there for a minute.”
    She knocked again, this time a bit louder in an attempt to drown out the sudden thumping of her heart.
    You have Milo, dummy.
    He moved the chicken container into the crook of his elbow and reached for the bowl of fruit salad, his tight gray T-shirt pulling all the more taut across his chest. “I guess you were probably affected by the storm, too, huh?”
    The storm.
    Seizing the opportunity to focus on something other than the way his faded blue jeans hugged his lower half, Tori nodded and then shrugged. “Yes and no.”
    “Excuse me?”
    She rushed to explain as the click of the door’s interior locking mechanism echoed through the air. “My cottage was fine. It’s one of the newer structures in town so it fared wonderfully. But the library, where I work, suffered some damage. Nothing earth-shattering, but enough to shrink our collection temporarily.”
    The door swung open to reveal a Rose who looked much happier than she had the day before. Tori sighed with relief. “Rose, how are you?”
    “Fine. Fine,” the elderly woman said as she peered up at Tori and then Doug, her soft gray eyes magnified to nearly twice their size thanks to the wire-rimmed bifocals she wore. “Did you hear the good news?”
    “About Kenny?”
    Rose nodded. “I told you he didn’t do it.”
    “And that was all I needed to hear.” Tori pointed at the containers in Doug’s hand. “I took a chance you might be free for lunch and packed a little extra fried chicken and fruit salad.”
    “A little? Looks like you have enough to feed a small army, Victoria.”
    She felt her face warm. “Okay, so I made a little more than I realized. Are you hungry?”
    Pulling the flaps of her sweater closer to her body, Rose lowered her voice. “My stomach is a bit unsettled this afternoon. But, if you have the time, I would enjoy a little fresh air and some good conversation.”
    She studied her friend closely, her radar on alert. “Are you feeling sick?”
    Rose waved off Tori’s concern with her usual gruff-ness. “I’m not ready to kick the bucket if that’s what you’re asking, Victoria.”
    “I wasn’t saying . . . I mean I . . .” She stopped when she heard Doug’s chuckle of amusement. She made a face. “What?”
    “My granddad used to say the same thing. He said he felt as if people were just waitin’ around, holdin’ chunks of dirt.”
    “Chunks of dirt?” she asked.
    “To sprinkle on my coffin,” Rose groused.
    She grabbed the edge of Rose’s screen door for support. “I wasn’t saying you’re going to . . . I mean, I was just concerned about what you said. About your stomach.”
    “Stomachs get upset, Victoria. They get upset from food that’s gone bad, they get upset from viruses, they get upset from people who don’t know when to stop. It happens.”
    “My mother-in-law gives me agita on a daily basis,” Doug offered from his spot on the front stoop. “It’s part of the reason I chase storms for a living. Gives me a chance to get away, rest my ears a little.”
    “See?” Rose wrapped her bony hand around Tori’s upper arm and gently pulled her inside. “Let’s get your food onto plates and then we can sit out back on the patio and catch up. Besides, I’d like you to meet Kenny.” Turning to Doug, she moved the containers to Tori’s hands. “Why don’t you see if that man working next door would like something to eat as well.”
    “You mean Curtis?” Tori asked. “I met him last night when I stopped by Martha Jane’s house. He struck me as being kind of quiet, like maybe he’s