Free Death of a Crafty Knitter by Angela Pepper

comment left me temporarily speechless, which is saying a lot for Kyle and his dimples, because I usually have two or three things to say for every one thing that comes out.
    We moved into the house's formal dining room, where he glanced around at the undecorated walls, face pinched in concentration.
    "What is it?" I asked. "See something weird ?"
    "The resident wasn't much of a nester. This is the home of someone on the run. I'd guess she was hiding out here in Misty Falls, but you don't drive a hearse with your name painted on the side if you're keeping a low profile. She was up to something."
    "Voodoo, I think."
    "That never ends well."
    "Really? Do you believe in magic?"
    He quirked one light brown eyebrow at me. "Do you?"
    "Of course not. I wasn't friends with the lady, and I wasn't a client, either. Not really. I met her last night at the Fox and Hound, very briefly. I helped her out in the bathroom with her makeup, and she gave me her card and insisted I come see her today so she could thank me." I started to shrug, but it turned into a shudder. "Discovering a dead body isn't much of a thank you. It reminds me of that saying, no good deed goes unpunished ."
    He wrinkled his nose. "I don't like that saying. It's counter to what we do." He walked to the corner of the room and lifted the lid off the top filing box. Inside was an assortment of objects associated with the mystical: feathers of various colors, crystals, silver jewelry, polished stones, incense, and bundles of herbs, tied with colored ribbons.
    Kyle picked up one of the bundles. "Do you think this is for cooking?" He sniffed it. "Sage."
    "Actually, I think it's for smudging. That's where you burn stuff to clear out bad spirits. I had a friend who'd burn those whenever she moved into a new apartment. There are two good reasons for a smudging ceremony."
    I waited for him to ask for the two reasons, and he did.
    "Number one, it clears out any pesky ghosts," I said, grinning. "Number two, you find out if the smoke detector's working."
    He laughed. "I can see you're not a believer in the mystical, which is good." He dug around in the box. "This junk isn't dangerous, but the people who believe in it are." He got a solemn expression. "It might have been a dissatisfied customer who shot her."
    "I think you're right. She was shot in the room where she did readings. I guess your top priority is looking for her appointment book, to see who she met with this morning before I showed up."
    "That's a start," he said, nodding in agreement.
    He pulled a crumpled newspaper from the box and examined the corner. "I'm guessing she came here from this small town in Florida. The date's from last summer."
    "Good detective work," I said.
    He grinned, all eagerness, like a puppy with dimples. "Do I get a juice box?"
    "Only if you solve the case before nap time."
    "Watch me." He nodded for me to follow him into the all-red sitting room. Kyle looked around with big eyes, taking it all in as he checked everywhere, including behind the grandfather clock and the drapes.
    He went to the bottom of the stairs and called up, "Captain, we're all clear down here. Do you need a hand up there?"
    As he waited to hear the answer from Tony, I studied Kyle's face in profile. The muscles in his cheek pulsed, like he was tapping his molars nervously. He was putting on a brave face for my benefit, and wasn't eager to see the dead body. Or maybe he was afraid he'd throw up in front of me. It's a normal human response to be ill after seeing death. I was surprised I'd held on to my own breakfast. Perhaps the stories from my father had made me more resilient than most people. Without a mother in the house to create a barrier between me and my sister and our father's work, we'd gotten a full induction in the ways of the world from a young age.
    Kyle's parents, if I recalled correctly, didn't even have a television. And now their sons both had exciting, action-packed, dangerous careers. The irony wasn't lost on