Free A Trifle Dead: Cafe La Femme, Book 1 by Livia Day

burr. ‘Why would Morris come here, tae this building?’
    Claudina was startled. ‘Here? What do you mean, here?’
    ‘The next floor up,’ I said. ‘You didn’t know?’
    ‘This is where he died ?’
    ‘It’s where he was found,’ Stewart said.
    Claudina’s freckles stood out brightly on her pale face. ‘Is that the only reason you’re interested in all this? Because it’s your building?’
    ‘I think plenty of people would be interested,’ Stewart said slowly. ‘I’m covering the story for Sandstone City , and yer perspective on Morris could be very valuable.’
    She looked uncertain. ‘I’ve got to get back, now. To see his mum. I promised I’d go straight after work. But you can call me, if you want.’
    Stewart handed over a notebook, and Claudina scribbled down her details. ‘I’m glad someone cares,’ she said before she left.
    ‘Right,’ said Stewart, letting out a long breath after we heard her footsteps disappearing down the stairs. ‘Clearly I need tae hire ye as my bodyguard.’
    ‘You can’t help it if you have a face that makes women cry.’ I looked at my watch. ‘Damn, it’s almost closing. Nin’s going to kill me.’
    ‘Can I draw on your walls tonight?’ he asked as I made a scramble for the door.
    That surprised me. ‘It’s Friday night, you don’t have anything better to do?’
    ‘With tha’ big empty wall calling me? Ye must be joking.’
    ‘I’ll be cleaning until about seven. If you really want to stay later than that, continuing your hot love affair with my walls, come by after closing and I’ll give you the back door key.’
    Call that security? Bishop’s voice thundered in the back of my brain, but I ignored it. I wasn’t talking to him right now. And it was hard to be suspicious about Stewart after rescuing him from a soggy damsel.
----
    ‘ C eege , are you home?’
    There was silence as I let myself into our share house. Sandy Bay is half fancy beautiful mansions and restored cottages owned by shiny rich people, and half dodgy falling-apart student residences. Guess which I lived in.
    Sure, I was getting a bit old for the share house thing, but I wasn’t ready to accept the title ‘independent businesswoman’ and turn it into a mortgage in the suburbs yet. If ever. Also, I could never afford to live this close to the city if I wanted to buy. Location, location. There are definite benefits to living like a student, especially when you can afford to eat better than baked beans and ramen every night.
    I heard a little pad pad thump , and Kinky Boots came trotting out of the kitchen, his usual pissed-off expression plastered across his face.
    ‘Good cat. I brought you your favourite.’ I waved a bag at him. ‘Sashimi!’ Mine is a very urban cat. I’ve had to take him off latté and aioli for the sake of his waistline, but as long as I don’t skimp on the raw tuna, he’s prepared to forgive.
    I gave Kinky Boots his dinner, and lay on the couch with my eyes closed. What I should do was climb up the stairs to my room and commune with my doona for a good ten hours or so. What I wanted to do instead was put on a cute frock, spray something colourful in my ponytail and run down to the Salamanca courtyard to spend hours and hours around people and music and vodka shots.
    As if I could work up the energy. Geez, I really must be getting old.
    I wasn’t feeling up to the usual gossip and dancing. Not because my feet hurt like four kinds of hell—they always did on a Friday night, and that had never stopped me before. I’d known Stewart McTavish for two days, and I’d left him in my café with a door key and a drawer full of pencils. It niggled at me.
    Ceege’s computer loomed from the corner. The benefits of having a gamer for a housemate is that he pays the broadband bill. It was rare to see the computer without my pet engineering student attached to it like a limpet.
    And Google is a girl’s best friend.
    I hated myself for giving in to Bishop’s