Free Murder at the Book Group by Maggie King

Evan know you were moving back here?” I guess it was inevitable that the conversation would turn back to Evan, no matter how many stories I told to delay the moment.
    I sighed. “Yes, he did know. As I mentioned earlier, we talked occasionally.” I didn’t tell Kat that during that pre-move conversation with Evan, remarriage with him seemed like a possibility. A possibility never realized. It occurred to me that Kat and Evan’s torrid affair coincided with that same conversation. So Kat and I shared an Evan-related loss at about the same time.
    â€œHow did he react?”
    â€œReact? He said it would be great to see each other more often.”
    â€œAnd did you?”
    â€œNot really.”
    Kat raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment further on Evan. “Well, Hazel, I didn’t realize you had such an interesting past.” Kat seemed to have new respect for me now that I’d joined the ranks of those with an “interesting past.”
    Lucy looked at the cat-shaped clock on the kitchen wall. “Yes, I always enjoy visiting Hazel’s interesting past. But I have to cut my visit short—I have a lunch appointment at noon.” She put her knitting away in a bag by the sofa and stood. Lucy managed a placement agency in downtown Richmond. She’d canceled an earlier appointment in favor of a debriefing of the events of the night before.
    Kat glanced at a leopard bracelet watch that had until now been hidden under her jacket sleeve. I knew she had to have a leopard item somewhere on her person. Now she said, “I’ve got to get going too. It’s almost eleven.” She and Lucy hugged before Lucy sprinted up the stairs. Then Kat rooted through that bag of hers that was large enough to hold all her worldly possessions and maybe even mine and checked her cell phone for messages.
    â€œLet us know about the funeral,” I said, again feeling the vague hurt that I wasn’t family. If I were, I could be involved in the funeral arrangements. “By the way, do you have a cell number for Evan?”
    She gave me a look, like she was debating with herself whether she could trust me. I guess I passed muster because she pulled her phone out of her pocket, checked her contact list, and read off a number that I jotted down on a napkin, my envelopes still under the cushion. I wondered what her reluctance was about—a possible reigniting of their relationship offered a possible explanation.
    Kat gently dislodged a reluctant Shammy from her lap. As we walked to the door, she pronounced, “We need to find out who killed Carlene. If we ask around, someone might remember something that’s significant. Someone killed her, and I for one am going to find out who it was.” She slanted a look at me. “I’d love to have your help with this, Hazel.”
    I gulped. “Kat, that’s a very bad idea. If someone killed her, we don’t want to be the next victims.”
    Kat looked heavenward. “Oh, spare me the mother hen bit. You need to hook up with Vince again. Get him to ditch that red-haired woman. And I guess I’ll have to give in to Mick. With the two of them in our back pockets, we’ll have access to information and protection.”
    At my questioning look, Kat explained about Mick Jairdullo. “He’s this cop I know from the gym and he’s been bugging me to go out with him. He’s great-looking, body to die for, sexy, the whole bit. But he’s got this crazy girlfriend who he claims he’s trying to break up with. Beverly. Real nut job. I don’t want to get in the middle of that relationship. But”—she threw up her hands—“you gotta do what you gotta do—it’s all in the name of justice.”
    I thought to myself that Kat might also see getting in good with the law as a way of shielding herself if she wound up a suspect in her stepsister’s murder. As for Vince, I