Free Little Shop of Homicide by Denise Swanson Page B

told I’m prettier.” Anya’s tongue traced her lips. “But we did like the same things—Chihuahuas, the same fashion designers, the same kinds of cars, and—”
    “The same men?” Jake interrupted.
    “The same type.”
    “What type is that?”
    “It depends.” Anya petted Jake’s arm with her free hand. “For fun, the ones that look like you.”
    “And otherwise?”
    “The ones like him.” Anya nodded toward a man who had just taken a seat at the bar. The guy resembled an expensively dressed koala bear, with twin tufts of hair on either side of his head, a wispy white beard that ran from ear to ear, and a paunch the size of a watermelon.
    “Isn’t he a little short for you?”
    “Not when you stand him on his money.”
    “Ah.” Jake chuckled, not at all shocked by what Anya and Joelle felt was important in selecting a husband. “Which type was Joelle’s fiancé?”
    “Noah is a rare guy.” Anya licked her lips again. “He’s hot
and
rich.”
    “So then you and Joelle were both interested in this Noah character?” Jake flashed her a mock scowl, released her hand, and grabbed his beer. “Should I be jealous?”
    “Well”—Anya fluttered her lashes—“that depends. What do you do for a living?”
    “Right now I’m working on a cattle ranch.” Jake winked. “After that, who knows?”
    “Yeah.” Anya sighed. “That’s what I thought. Hunky guys are almost always underemployed.”
    “Except for Noah?”
    She nodded. “He’s a doctor.”
    “I guess that means I don’t have a chance.” Jake gave her a mock scowl. “Since you’d probably like to be Mrs. Doctor Noah?”
    “Maybe. Successful men in this town are at a premium, so now that Joelle is gone…” She trailed off, then seemed to catch herself, and her tone became defensive. “But never when she was alive. That wouldn’t be nice or honest.”
    “And I’m sure you’re always nice.” Jake grinned, then asked, “How about Joelle? Was she always nice and honest?”
    “As if.” Anya adjusted the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist. “You didn’t want to cross her. And she was real secretive.”
    “In what way?”
    “For one thing, she never wanted anyone in her condo, while the rest of us girls always showed each other our inner souls.”
    “Inner souls?”
    “Our closets.” Anya gave a high-pitched laugh and whapped Jake on the biceps with the back of her hand. “Silly boy. Did you think we belonged to a cult?”
    Jake forced a chuckle. “So you were never inside Joelle’s place?”
    “She never invited me or Gwen—Gwen is my other best friend, the one who didn’t have time to join us.”
    “I see.” Jake noticed that Anya had avoided a direct answer, but he didn’t press her. Instead he asked, “Can you think of anyone who would want to kill Joelle, besides her fiancé’s ex? Does someone gain a lot of money from her death, or did anyone hold her responsible for something bad that happened to them?”
    “Hey.” Anya narrowed her eyes. “Why are you asking me all these questions about Joelle and the murder?”
    “No reason.” Jake twitched his shoulders. “What would you like to talk about, darlin’?”
    “Hooking up later on?”
    “I’m sure that could be arranged.” Jake stalled, considering whether it would be worthwhile to romance Anya any further. She was clearly growing suspicious or bored or both with the topic of Joelle, and he had only one more question, so he asked bluntly, “Where were you Saturday night?”
    “It was Valentine’s Day weekend, wasn’t it?” Anya’s tone was playful, but her expression was hard to read. “Where do you think I was?”
    Jake shrugged.
    “With a man, of course.” Anya reached in her purse and reapplied her lip gloss. “That’s where I am every Saturday night. You could have been the lucky guy this Saturday night, but I have a feeling that’s not what you were looking for after all.”

CHAPTER 7

    “S weet Jesus!” Gran stared at me