Free The Fashion Hound Murders by Elaine Viets Page A

thanks,” Amelia said. “But I make a good brownie, if you want to come to our house.”
    “Amelia!” Josie said, her cheeks flame red. “Sorry. My daughter, like your puppy, can be a little overly friendly.” She shot Amelia a glare.
    “I understand. You shouldn’t invite strange men to your house, even if they do have cute dogs,” Jerry said. “How about if you have coffee with me someplace away from your home?”
    Josie studied Jerry. He wasn’t ripped or cut like Stan. Josie couldn’t bounce quarters off his abs. The man was no hunk. But he was cute. A tabby like me, Josie thought. Maybe it’s time to see someone who isn’t obsessed with carbs.
    “Thanks, but I’ve had too much coffee today,” Josie said. “I’m wired. Do you live near Maplewood?”
    “Better. I live in Maplewood,” he said. “It’s a cool place.”
    “I do, too,” Josie said. “Maybe we could walk your pup to Airedale Antics and get her a treat. Do you know that shop?”
    “Sure do. It’s on Manchester between Sutton and Marshall. They have two Airedales—Sassybear and Harrybear. The dogs greet everyone with wagging tails. Chloe thinks they’re her buddies. We’ll meet you there tomorrow night about six o’clock. Bring Amelia.”
    “I will,” Josie said. “On a leash.”

Chapter 8
    “I can’t believe you asked that man to our house, Amelia Marcus.” Josie’s voice was rapidly rising to a shout. “You are grounded. Grounded! Give me your cell phone.”
    “But Mom,” Amelia said, “what if something goes wrong and I need it?”
    “There wouldn’t be any emergencies if you didn’t do stupid things, Amelia.”
    “I was only thinking of you,” Amelia said.
    “Me!”
    “Well, I thought Stan was a hottie and you started dating him. That made Grandma happy, but he turned out to be really boring. I tried to give Stan a brownie last night and he said he didn’t eat bad carbs.”
    “Now you know how it feels to have your cooking insulted,” Josie said.
    “But I’m a good cook!” Amelia said.
    “And I’m not?” Josie knew the answer. She took deep breaths to calm herself. Amelia said nothing.
    “Look, Amelia, Stan turned into a fitness fanatic. And he is dull. But he does help us and he’s still a nice man.” A nice dull man, she thought.
    “Jerry seems to be nice, too,” Amelia said. “He’s not ripped or anything, but I thought he’d be more fun. Stan is nutso-crazy about exercise.”
    “I can take care of my own love life, thank you,” Josie said, her voice crisp as new lettuce. “I don’t need a man. Millions of women survive without them. Jerry seems nice, but we don’t know anything about him. He could be a serial killer using a puppy to lure his victims. We could all wake up dead one morning.”
    Josie realized she was sounding a bit crazy herself.
    “Well, you’re the one who agreed to meet him at Airedale Antics, Mom,” Amelia said.
    “In a public place on a busy street,” Josie said. “With people around. I didn’t invite him to our house. He doesn’t know where we live. Do you see the difference?”
    “Mrs. Mueller, dead ahead,” Amelia said, sounding relieved. “She’s in our front yard and she looks like trouble.”
    Mrs. Mueller always looked like trouble. Her arms were crossed and her face was grim. Her iron gray hair was sprayed into place and didn’t dare move, even in the brisk winter wind. Mrs. Mueller’s gray coat could have been swiped from a Soviet prison matron. She was frowning at Josie’s old couch sagging by the curb. It looked depressingly frayed, even in the dim streetlight.
    “Go on inside,” Josie said. “I’ll handle her.”
    She parked the car in front of her flat. Amelia ran for the front door. Josie wanted to join her daughter, but she climbed out of the car and locked it. “Hi, Mrs. Mueller.” Josie forced herself to sound casual.
    “What is this couch doing in your front yard?” Mrs. Mueller asked in a voice like thunder.
    Several wrong