Free Dior or Die (Joanna Hayworth Vintage Clothing Mysteries Book 2) by Angela M. Sanders Page A

sofa's springs creaked under Joanna. She swiveled and rested her feet on Paul's lap. With a "mew," Pepper moved over to make room for a calf. Joanna lay back and put her hands behind her head. Despite lying down, her foot jiggled nervously. Paul squeezed her toes. "Poppy says she was framed."
    "Framed? Why her?"
    "I'm not sure. There's just too much I don't know." Using Joanna's leg as a bridge, Pepper padded to her stomach and lay down. Paul was right. The police surely talked to everyone at the auction house. But maybe they missed something. Maybe, if they had it in their minds Poppy was guilty, they didn't ask the right questions. Travis, for instance. Poppy said Travis was at the warehouse after hours.
    "You need to stay out of it. Let the police do their job."
    What was his deal? He didn’t order her around like this. He let her do what she wanted, and even seemed to appreciate her occasional indulgences in weekend-long Raymond Chandler reading jags or ragù alla Bolognese cooking marathons. She dodged his question. "I’m thinking of painting the ceiling. Maybe a shell pink? It looks kind of dingy."
    Paul shifted on the couch. Even though her head was turned up, Joanna knew he was looking at her. "Promise me you won't get involved in this." His hand was warm on her ankle. "I like your sense of justice, I really do. And I know Poppy is your friend. But let the police handle it."
    "Oh Paul, you should have seen her. She begged me to help her. What am I supposed to do?"
    "You can help by keeping out of the police's way. And staying safe."
    She paused for a moment then decided to say it anyway. "You know that I’m not your sister, right? I won’t get killed because you weren’t paying attention." His sister had died years before in a car crash after Paul had forgotten to pick her up after school.
    "This has nothing to do with her…" His voice trailed off.  
    "I can't bear to see Poppy in jail like that. Meanwhile, the real thief is going loose."
    "It’s frustrating for you, but you're letting it go, right? You’re already asking around about Vivienne North’s death. Don’t tempt fate with Poppy." Paul's voice hardened with obstinacy. She knew he wouldn't rest until she'd promised him she'd leave things alone. "Promise me."
    "I guess the police know better how to deal with this than I do." Neither a yes nor a no.
    "Jo. That’s not an answer."
    "But she begged me. You should have seen her."
    "I’m sure her lawyer will have her out on bail soon."
    "It’s not just that," Joanna said. "It’s her reputation. Think about it. No one will hire her. And how will she feel walking around town with everyone looking at her and talking about her behind her back?"
    "And how will she feel if something happens to you because you were nosing around in what should be the police’s business?"
    Paul’s argument was logical, but she knew it was driven more by his stubborn protectiveness than reason. Why, she had no idea. She refused to look at him.
    He ran a hand down her calf. "Jo," he said, this time softly. "Look at me. Do you promise?"
    She met his eyes. "All right." She relaxed back into the couch again. Pepper's purr reverberated through her abdomen. "I promise."  
    She knew his urgency that she not get involved came from a good place. After all, he took time away from his work to check on her. If he moved in, in the evenings when she came home, he'd be around—in the house, or working out in the shop. Maybe when he had a big job she'd bring him dinner and watch him work a little. Other nights he might already be in the house listening to one of his old jazz records.  
    But even these simple pleasures were things Poppy might not experience for years. Not the way things were headed.
    "If Uncle Gene weren't locked away, I know where the police would start looking for the jewel thief," Paul said.
    "Did you ever see anything he stole?" She imagined piles of diamonds in chamois bags.
    He looked away. "Well, it wasn’t really