The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 by Alexie Aaron Read Free Book Online Page B

its mate into the trashcan. Now that was
sad.  I paid eighty-nine dollars for those shoes.
    I took off my raincoat and gave my body a once over.  A nice
bruise was forming on my chin.  My lower left arm was a bit swollen.  I flexed
my hand.  I would need some ibuprofen, but otherwise I would survive. 
    I pulled my hair back and washed my face.  It felt nice to
use the fancy little French-milled soap.  At home it was reserved for guests,
but here I was the guest.  Drying my face I looked at my reflection.  My brown
eyes were a bit red and the dark patches under my eyes might just be from
fatigue.  Yeah right, more like the whisky.  What possessed me to drink so
much?  Was I an alcoholic?  The thought had occurred to me before.  I would
have to do some soul searching on the subject, but today wasn’t the day.
    I pulled on my clothes and was a bit surprised the jeans
were loose in the legs.  Hey, that is a nice surprise.  My pear shaped body
usually needed a paring of inches around that area.  I finished dressing and
worked my fingers through the long tangle of auburn curls that was par for the
course considering I went to bed with it wet.  I sectioned it and loosely
braided it and held onto the end as I walked down the hall to my room.  There I
found the contents of my travel tote bag all over the floor.  I didn’t remember
dumping it, but it did make it easier to find a rubber band so I pushed it from
my mind.  With my braid secured I went back to the bath and cleaned up my mess,
and with my soiled clothes under my arm I went in search of a washing machine.
    Being in someone else’s house is only unnerving when they
are at home.  Otherwise, I loved the discoveries I made with each door and
cupboard I opened.  When I reached the kitchen I found it bathed in sunlight.  I
was surprised by the lack of mess I had made last evening.  I had left the
bread out but my plate and pint jar were clean and dry on the drain board.  The
last set of louvered doors I opened held a small washer and dryer.  I put my
things in the washer and started it.  My stomach growled.  Food.  Breakfast.
    Angie Bathgate had a well-stocked kitchen.  The pantry was
filled and the side-by-side yielded all the staples that you would need if you
were feeding an army.  The ancient aga scared me away from attempting a cooked
breakfast, so I opted for a cold breakfast of bread and jam.  The electric
teakettle and I got along famously. I had just sat down when I heard the phone
in the living room ring.
    I got up to answer it, and as I was reaching to remove the
handset from the cradle I stopped.  It wasn’t my phone.  I was a guest here. 
Letting the answering machine pick it up was the better course of action I
thought.  After four rings it did.  Angie’s message played and the beep was
greeted with Angie herself telling me to pick up.
    “How are you feeling?” I asked while licking some jam off my
fingers.
    “Aside from the bumps, bruises and a new part in my hair,
I’m doing well.  If it wasn’t for my age they would have let me loose this
morning,” griped Angie.
    “Where are you?  I know in the hospital, but I haven’t a
clue where in Cornwall you might be.”
    “Poor dear, this wasn’t what you had expected was it?  I’m
in Truro presently, and at about four pm they are going to release me.”
    “Do you want me to pick you up?”
    “Billy is coming to spring me.”
    “Is there anything I can do that doesn’t have to do with a
tractor?”
    I heard her laughing through the hand she had placed over
the mouthpiece.  “Sorry dear, Billy told me you single-handedly destroyed the
asparagus!  Good for you.  I never could understand why she needed so much of
the stuff.  Anyway, Billy will bring back the tractor and besides making up the
girls’ beds on the third floor, you’re free.  As for the farm, Mother Nature
primarily runs the place.  Oh, before I forget, the linens are in the closet between
your