Free Dead Woman's Shoes: 1 (Lexy Lomax Mysteries) by Kaye C. Hill

myself – Tristan, you might as well do your ghost walk and earn a few quid instead. I mean,” he went on quickly, “I’m just as cut up as Tammy about poor little Princess. But we all have our different ways of dealing with it, don’t we?”
    Lexy pricked up her ears.
    “There’s no news, then?” Hope gave him an anxious glance.
    Tristan looked grave. “We’ve searched everywhere. Tammy’s frantic.”
    “I’ll keep on asking people,” said Hope. “Guy’s been looking everywhere too – he’s ever so upset about this, you know.”
    Tristan gave her an awkward look. “It was Tammy who got the idea about the dogs into her head, you know. Obviously, I don’t seriously think they…”
    “Well, I wish you’d convince her,” Hope cut in.
    Lexy watched Tristan with interest. Guy Ellenger had given her the impression that the Caradocs were united in thinking that his chihuahua collective had murdered their beloved moggy.
    “I’ll try, but you know what she’s like when she gets a bee in her bonnet.” Tristan flicked his chestnut hair again, and turned back to Lexy. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come for that audition?”
    “Quite sure, thanks,” affirmed Lexy.
    “Nothing I can do to persuade you? You’d make a perfect principal boy with that lovely little crop. Dick Whittington here we come, eh?”
    “Oh, shut up, Tristan.” Hope pushed herself up with a loud scrape of her chair.
    Tristan shut up. He gave Lexy a quick shrug and a wry smile. “Nice to have met…”
    “Excuse me.” Kitty suddenly popped up like an aggrieved Judy in a puppet show. “Do you have an… animal with you?” The query, delivered with some force, was directed at Lexy.
    “Only a very small one,” said Lexy, apologetically, using her thumb and forefinger to indicate Kinky’s size. “He’s under the table.”
    “Oh, no he isn’t.” The manageress pointed.
    Kinky was over by the cake trolley, awkwardly but determinedly wolfing down a cream horn. There was also a ravaged chocolate éclair beside him on the floor, and he had very clearly licked the side of a frosted carrot cake. The other customers in the café had started laughing and pointing.
    “Oh, crap,” said Lexy.
    “That’s not one of Guy’s little bas…?” Tristan looked confused.
    “No, it’s mine. Kinky,” Lexy breathed despairingly.
    Tristan Caradoc instantly gave her an appreciative glance.
    “Kinky, eh?” he murmured.
    Lexy closed her eyes. She was going to have to give that dog a different name. She strode over to the chihuahua.
    “Can’t take him anywhere,” she apologised to Kitty, grabbing him up. Globules of cream dropped from his funnel on to the oak floor.
    “He’s not supposed to be here in the first place,” the manageress reminded her. “For reasons of hygiene.”
    “Yeah, I know – and I’m sorry about the cakes,” said Lexy. “I’ll… er… pay for them, of course.” And how would she do that, exactly?
    “No, it’s all right, put it on my bill,” said Hope.
    “I couldn’t let…”
    “Now, now – allow me to sort this out, ladies.” Tristan produced a wallet and peeled off a couple of ten pound notes. Ordinarily Lexy would have rather walked over hot coals than let strangers bail her out, but if they were actually going to argue over it…
    She gave Tristan a quick smile of thanks.
    “Ghost walk – ten o’clock, tonight,” he murmured. “Special one, just for you.” He thrust a small leaflet at her.
    “Lovely.” She nodded weakly, slipping it into her back pocket. “Is he for real?” Lexy said a few moments later, outside the café.
    “Oh, yes,” said Hope. “In fact, that’s the problem. He’s been the archetypal ham for so long that he’s actually started living it.”
    They grinned at each other, and by common consent set off along the high street towards the sea front. Ahead of them a heat haze sprang up from the road, making everything shimmer.
    “Think he overheard much?”
    Hope