Free Murfey's Law by Bec Johnson Page B

about to scream at him to let go he pulled the spike out with one hand and released his grip on her with the other.
    ‘There, it's out.’ He held it in front of her face for her to see. ‘It was a Purple Sea Urchin spine. Nasty little thing.’
    ‘Nasty? It was fucking evil!’ Lori smacked his hand, sending the offending object back into the sea.
    ‘Yes, well, Murfey's Beach is full of all sorts of poisonous creatures.’
    ‘And that's supposed to mean what exactly?’ Lori didn't miss the double meaning in his words.
    ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ Zeb let out an audible sigh, and in a possible gesture of apology placed his hand on her knee. ‘You should go put your finger in very hot water for as long as it takes for the pain to subside.’
    The feel of his hand on her leg shot through her skin like an electric shock. Her body quaked at the sensation of his touch. There was no way he wouldn't have felt it.
    ‘I should go.’ Zeb stood up abruptly. He lifted his board out from underneath her bottom, toppling Lori onto the rough surface of the platform, and dove with it into the water.
     
    Bob was waiting for her on the deck when she scrambled her way back up to the shop. She had tried to have a quick swim after Zeb left her so abruptly in the little cave, but the pulsating in her finger, not to mention her leg, was far too off-putting.
     
    Just as he'd told her to, Lori followed Zeb's instructions with the hot water. After sharing the bare minimum of details on the incident with Jenny, Lori dispensed of her assistance, sending her home with an icy cool soft drink pressed against her forehead. The raspberry wine hangover was only very slowly abating.
    Every hour that passed caused the temperature to rise dramatically.
    An extension cord running through the shop powered an upright fan and Lori's laptop where she had set herself up on the verandah for a day of research. Bob lay flat out beside her. The only movement he made for hours was to flick his ears every time a pesky fly bothered him.
    Customers came and went, and Lori took the opportunity to glean as much information from them as possible. She listened to their suggestions for the store, some more far-out than others, and politely fielded their intrusive questions about everything from her childhood with Jack, to her threadbare love life. Summoning all her willpower to remain courteous took a lot of energy in such heat, and at about five o'clock she fell asleep.
     
    Vaguely sensing someone stood over her, Lori stirred from her nap.
    ‘Good evening Ms James,’ a fierce looking old woman in a lemon twinset and pearls addressed her.
    ‘Oh! Lori, please.’ She stood up unsteadily and held out her hand.
    The woman's hand remained firmly clutched around her handbag. ‘Ms James, I'm a little disappointed to see that the tables and chairs have not been set up for us.’
    ‘I'm sorry?’
    ‘Yes, well that is appreciated, however, we still need them set up. Would you kindly do so?’
    Who the hell was this woman? Lori brushed loose strands of hair back from her face and re-did her ponytail. ‘No... Oh never mind. I didn't catch your name I'm afraid,’ Lori tried a different tack.
    The old woman tutted impatiently. ‘My name is Maureen Westerly, President of the Murfey's Beach Bridge Club, and your father has, for the last sixteen years, been setting up the tables and chairs for our weekly bridge night. Which is tonight.’
    ‘I'm not sure you've noticed, but my father is dead,’ Lori quickly shot back and then regretted it. Her mind whirred into action as she recognised that the woman was not only Zeb's aficionado but also an investor in the shop. ‘I'm sorry.’
    ‘Yes, you keep saying. Now how about you chop chop.’
    Oh my god! If it wasn't out of necessity to please, Lori thought she may well have punched the cantankerous old woman on the nose. Instead she bit her tongue and headed through the shop and out the back. The room fell into silence as she