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

what it would look like when fully painted. ‘This wall,’ I said finally, ‘is made of pure awesome.’
    ‘Also, he locked up properly,’ said Nin. ‘The boy’s a keeper.’
----
    E ven Senior Constable Bishop couldn’t spoil my mood on a day like this. Not that he didn’t try.
    Before the late morning shopping crowd reached fever pitch, I took a basket of chocolate scones up to Crash Velvet, along with their regular order. kCeera was so happy to see a baked good that wasn’t blue, she dragged me in to drink a wheatgrass concoction with her.
    ‘ Sandstone City is fantastic ,’ kCeera said through her second scone. ‘We’ve been trying for years to get the newspapers to give us some publicity, but can they be bothered? They didn’t even get the name of the band right when they reported the murder. Bloggers care about the details.’
    ‘I thought the police weren’t calling it a murder,’ I said carefully.
    ‘Well, they say suspicious death,’ she admitted. ‘But, you know what I mean. Hey—guess what? That blue muffin thing is totally paying off.’
    I blinked. ‘You are kidding me.’
    ‘I’m not. Since Stewart’s post went up, our YouTube hits went through the roof. Facebook too. Someone even set up a Tumblr for fans to speculate about recipes. Check it out.’ kCeera opened one of her kitchen cupboards to reveal two shelves stacked deep with watermelons. ‘I’ve been sending Owen out to get one of these from the local grocer’s every morning. Do you reckon Stewart would do another post about our eating habits?’
    ‘Depends how desperate he is. You can try.’ I eyed the watermelons. Mmmm, watermelon slushies. ‘I could take some of these off your hands for the café? Smuggle them out secretly. Not that I want to deprive you…’
    ‘Oh, please. Take, have.’
    I picked a couple out happily. ‘I’ll give you a discount on your next month of muffins. Watermelon is a valid currency around here. Heard about your stolen gear?’
    kCeera looked a little uncomfortable at that. ‘Nah. The police can’t be stuffed with that, they’re all distracted with the dead bloke business. Owen and the others are off with our PR manager today, going through the op shops to see if any of it turned up. We’re playing a glam party tomorrow night, and we’re going to look pretty stupid without our costumes.’
    ‘Maybe it’s time for a new look.’
    ‘Yeah,’ kCeera said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘Hey.’ She pulled a stack of folded papers from her back pocket. ‘Do you want one? It’s a flyer listing all the missing items. If you come across any of them, we’ve got a reward posted.’
    I eyed the list. ‘Well, if anyone is likely to happen across a lace crinoline or a set of hand-forged handcuff accessories with foot-long spikes in their day-to-day life, it probably would be me.’
    I was going to ask more about their PR manager, and maybe get in a question or two about whether any of the band had been acquainted with Julian Morris, but there was an official-sounding knock on the door of the flat, and I guessed before kCeera opened it that it was Bishop. I have a sixth sense that is entirely devoted to cranky police officers.
    ‘I’d like to ask you some more questions,’ he said in a tight voice. ‘But if you don’t mind, I’ll have a few words with Ms Darling first. Outside !’
----
    T he second that the door closed behind us, Bishop was yelling at me. ‘Are you interfering in my investigation again?’
    ‘Not again, not ever. No!’ I headed down the stairs with my arms full of watermelons, making him damn well follow me if he wanted to rant face to face.
    He did, stomping with those long legs of his. ‘So what were you doing up there?’
    ‘Being neighbourly. Delivering scones. Drinking tea. Being normal. Shit!’ The heel of my cute vintage boot snapped off, and I fell two steps before I hit the Sandstone City landing.
    Bishop grabbed my arm to steady me. ‘You