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

shook her head. “Even if he did, he won’t remember. His only real interest is himself.”
    They walked on in silence for a while.
    “So, will you do it?” Hope asked, looking straight ahead.
    Lexy bit her lip. “Listen, I do really want to help you, but whoever wrote those letters must be pretty sick. If you don’t tell the police, they might send something equally vile to someone else. Anything could happen.”
    Hope’s shoulders slumped. “Just for a couple of weeks, then?” she pleaded. “Investigate for a fortnight, and if you don’t find anything I’ll hand the letters in to the police.”
    Lexy considered. It wouldn’t hurt, she supposed, just to make some brief enquiries. “All right,” she said, slowly.
    Hope broke into a grateful smile and started thanking her profusely. Lexy waved her away. “Listen, it would help if I had a starting place. Are you quite sure you can’t think of anyone here who might have a grudge against you?”
    “No,” said Hope. “I keep myself to myself. I don’t think I’ve ever made an enemy of anyone.” But her eyes were carefully blank, Lexy noted.
    “Any indication that someone else you know might have got one of these letters?”
    Hope shook her head. “If it was anything like mine, they probably wouldn’t want to shout about it anyway, would they? That’s the whole point.”
    “Guess so. OK, I’ll try to think of another angle. But you have to show me those other two letters.” The letters that would hold the clue to whatever Hope was hiding.
    “I’ll dig them out,” Hope said, reluctantly. “By the way, how much do you…?”
    Lexy steeled herself. Go on, say it. Say, Two hundred and fifty pounds, please, with a deposit of fifty pounds payable now.
    “If I find out anything worth knowing, we can settle up then,” she found herself saying, without quite knowing why. Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. She could almost hear Kinky’s heavy sigh.
    “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” Hope looked tearful again, but composed her face quickly to greet an elderly couple approaching from the other direction.
    “I guess you know everyone around here,” said Lexy, when the pair had passed on.
    “Oh, yes. There’s not many Clopwolders I wouldn’t be able to name. That’s why I don’t want my past becoming public property again…”
    They reached the promenade, and leaned on the pastel green railings. The small beach was beginning to fill with holiday-makers, staking out their patch of sand and shingle with towels, deckchairs, wind-breaks and other fortifications. The shrieks of children mingled with those of gulls.
    “So why were you so upset yesterday morning?” Lexy enquired, with studied indifference. “Was it me?”
    Hope looked sheepish. “Partly. I was tense anyway, because of these letters. Then one of our customers, Avril Todd, came in. She’s such a bitch.” Hope gripped the railing, making her knuckles stand out as white as shells. “She’s been complaining about our complementary medicine. It’s all so petty. We’ve been selling alternative remedies alongside our conventional medicine for ages now and whatever profit we make from them goes towards helping people on low incomes pay for treatment for their pets.”
    “Bit like Robin Hood?” Lexy suggested, remembering the freebie Guy had given her, and wondering if she looked that much like a charity case.
    “Well, we don’t exactly rob the rich, but we do make a point of suggesting to our well-heeled customers that their pekes and shi-tzus and Persian cats would benefit from something from our alternative range. Trouble is, Guy made the mistake of recommending the stuff to Avril Todd. She reckoned it didn’t work, probably because she hadn’t been using it properly, so she’s trotting around the village broadcasting the fact, and now she’s threatening to go to the Trading Standards people.” Hope made a noise of disgust.
    Lexy nodded.