Free Red Hot Murder: An Angie Amalfi Mystery by Joanne Pence

a sudden sympathy for Junior Whitney.
    Suddenly, a memory came back to her. She’d seen Junior in LaVerne’s diner the day she and Paavo arrived in Jackpot. And he’d seemed to sneak out as soon as Teresa entered.
    Gazing back unflinchingly at Clarissa, Angie stated, “I’ve been busy.”
    “Well, pardon me!” Clarissa harrumphed and marched back into the common room.
    With a disgusted shake of the head, Angie went into the cabin. The sadness of the morning had cast a pall over her mood, and even the cabin seemed overly quiet and dreary.
    Angie began pulling off her dusty clothes. They no longer looked new and designer stiff, but instead seemed nearly as worn and earthy as Joaquin Oldwater’s. She used a bootjack to remove her Justins, and even seeing how scuffed-up they’d gotten, had to admit she was glad to have been wearing them to ride horseback and climb rocky hillsides. What a day!
    What a sad day.
    As she headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, she thought she saw something move by the bedroom door—something small, almost like a mote in the eye. A shiver ran down her back as she slowly walked into the living room.
    Nothing was there. The room looked untouched. Just her imagination, she told herself.
    After a very quick shower, she put on loose and casual Juicy Couture drawstring Capris and a hoodie. Barefoot, she curled up on the sofa with a notepad and pen.
    Last evening, speaking with Clarissa, Angie had pointed out that since a lot of meat would be available at the barbecue, her main dish should be something different. She suggested serving a seared cracked black pepper salmon roulade with white leeks and covered with a cucumber sauce.
    Clarissa approved, and Angie said she would come up with interesting accompaniments to it.
    Now was the time to do just that so Clarissa wouldn’t have reason to annoy her anymore—although something told her Clarissa was the type who’d find a reason, no matter what.
    Slowly, she began to relax. Her breathing calmed, she yawned, and realized she was tired after getting up so early, the horseback ride, climb, and even the fresh air and sunshine. Between that and the day’s emotion, she felt drained. Still, although she tried to think of food, her mind kept replaying the scene on the mountain ledge. Doc’s sadness, the conspicuous sheriff, the deputy who gawked at her …
    She shut her eyes to drive those thoughts away. Food, she told herself, think of food! Something sumptuous. Something she’d find at an elegant seafood restaurant in San Francisco …
    Something tickled her foot. No. Impossible.
    Suddenly, the sensation of feathers brushing against her ankle struck. She opened her eyes. Whatever it was crept higher, onto her calf.
    She sat up with a jolt. Alarmed, she looked down at her leg, and saw a slight ripple under the loose material.
    Petrified, she gripped the slacks tight around her thigh with one hand to stop the creature’supward journey, while with the other she slowly gathered the pants leg, lifting it higher and higher.
    When she saw the three-inch wide, black hairy spider on her knee, she stared at it and it stared at her, both frozen with fright. Everything inside her went still. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The spider found its bearings first and ran down her leg, across the sofa, and onto the floor.
    That broke the dam, and the sound Angie held came out loud and long at the same time as she sprang up so that she stood on the sofa. Immediately, she doubled over to inspect her skin for a bite, and then rubbed her hand hard over her leg to brush away the “feel” of the spider.
    The spider, meanwhile, scurried across the living room to run behind a rolling TV stand.
    Without even thinking about what she was doing, Angie grabbed the thick, heavy Phoenix telephone book, shoved the TV stand out of the way, and dropped the book on top of the cowering spider. Then she ran out the door, smack into Lionel.
    “There’s a