Free Murder on Old Main Street (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) by Judith Ivie

couple of inches, and a very appetizing aroma wafted in from the kitchen. I caught myself just before I nodded off and emerged from the soothing suds reluctantly. I pulled one of Joey’s old football jerseys over my head and slid between the sheets just as Armando arrived bearing dinner on a tray. I sniffed appreciatively at the two bowls that steamed under my nose as he pulled a wing chair next to my bed. He had added some diced potatoes to the meat, chopped up the limp vegetables, added a dash of the Shiraz and some spices, and let everything simmer together. Could there be nutmeg in there?
    The stale Portuguese rolls he had found in the bread drawer had been sliced in half and slathered with olive oil and onion salt, then toasted for a few minutes. A big bunch of green grapes and a chunk of jack cheese completed the menu.
    Greedily, I grabbed a spoon and dug in while Armando settled into the wing chair. He tucked a napkin tidily into his collar before he helped himself to the remaining bowl of stew or goulash or whatever it was. For a few minutes we ate in a companionable silence broken only by the chink of spoons on pottery. By the time I reached for the grapes, I felt almost human, my previous exhaustion replaced by a pleasant lassitude. Simon and Jasmine had come looking for us and lay curled up together at my feet. It might not be everyone’s idea of a family, but it worked for me.
    “So,” Armando asked for the second time, “how was your day?”
    This time I answered him civilly. “Let’s just say it ended up a whole lot better than it began.” He served himself a few grapes and a piece of cheese while I filled him in on my unsettling conversation with Emma, whom Armando adored. He called her “Her Serene Highness” because of what he called her princess profile, and she called him Stepdaddy, only partly in jest. Now, his brow furrowed as he heard about Emma’s refusal to explain her payoff to Prudence Crane. He reached out to take my hand in his.
    “Do you think she needs our help?” was his first comment, and I smiled at him. How like him to cut right to what was important. What dreadful thing Emma might have done, or to whom she might have done it, were simply insignificant compared to the possibility that his princess might need rescuing. First things first.
    “If she does, she knows where to find us,” I reassured him. “In the meantime, I have to figure out a way to avoid having suspicion pointed at her, and that means finding out who really murdered dear Prudy.” I sighed as I remembered my upcoming interview with the minister’s wife the following day.
    Wisely, Armando stayed out of it. “And if you need my help, you know where to find me, am I correct?” He released my hand and got to his feet. “And now I will leave you to your sleep.” He picked up the reloaded tray and bent to kiss me. Feeling warm and cozy and loved, I took his handsome face between my hands and rubbed the end of his nose with my own.
    “Eskimo kiss. Thank you for my delicious dinner—and for feeding the felines.” I gave him a proper kiss and tried to pinch his backside, but he was too quick for me. He dodged my hand nimbly and backed out of the room, laughing. I switched off my bedside lamp and slid deeper under the covers, listening to him rattling dishes into the dishwasher for a few minutes. Is there a more welcome sound , I wondered sleepily, than listening to someone else do the dishes? I could definitely get used to it.
    “Sleep well, Cara ,” he called softly down the hall. The lights went out, and then I heard the click of the kitchen door as he let himself into the garage. Immediately, I missed him and felt bad about his thirty-minute drive home to West Hartford. We really should move in together, I thought. And then I fell into a dead sleep.

 
 
 

 
 
 
 
    Six

 
    Thursday was yet another impossibly gorgeous day. Too bad I can’t enjoy it, I groused inwardly and tried to distract