Dying for a Dude (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

surprise me that Bradford nodded. He’d been a member of the El Dorado County Sheriff’s Department since he graduated from the police academy. Tom, a widower with one young daughter, had relocated from San Francisco to Placerville only fifteen months ago.
    “Deputy Fletcher is into old weaponry. He’s a member of the historical society, too, so if he can’t identify it, one of the other members should be able to.”
    Tom thanked him then left to complete his thankless exhumation. I walked over to my grandmother and hugged her goodbye.
    “Be a good granny, okay?” I said. “Don’t give Tom or his crew any trouble.”
    She threw me a wide-eyed “Who me?” look and went back to grilling the crime techs.
    I grabbed one more cookie then followed my mother and stepfather out the door. I figured if I couldn’t devour Tom tonight, I’d settle for second best––devouring Gran’s homemade cookies.

 
     
     
CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    The phone trilled on my nightstand the next morning. I knocked the receiver over then jumped out of bed to retrieve it before the caller hung up. My contact lenses rested in their pink plastic case on my bathroom counter, so I squinted at the name on the display.
    “Morning, Liz,” I mumbled.
    “What happened to you yesterday?” she asked. “I worried all night about your mother and your granny. Or were you and Tom too busy playing Sheriff and Saloon girl to call me?” Her husky laugh carried over the phone line. “Aren’t you happy I provided a little fantasy for the two of you?”
    “What you provided was a corset torture chamber. It took me an hour to extricate myself from that thing.” I directed a baleful glance at the garments piled on my blue plaid wing chair.
    “Didn’t you and Tom have a hot date last night?” she asked.
    I plopped back on top of my covers and shared the skeletal discovery with my friend.
    “Ooch. I wonder who the dead guy is,” Liz said. “Do you think one of your relatives killed him?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” I muttered, not mentioning that her question had also occurred to me.
    “You never know if there’s a black sheep or two grazing under your family tree,” she said. “I have to run. Let’s catch up at Cornbread and Cowpokes tonight. I’ll see you and Tom there, right?”
    “Maybe. He might not make it if he’s still working on this case.”
    “That’s too bad. Although this case sounds like it’s cold enough to have freezer burn.”
    On that note, we signed off. I entered my bathroom and began my morning routine. I popped in my left contact then heard my kids yelling my name downstairs. I glanced at the clock. Nine a.m. They weren’t supposed to be home until noon. With only one lens in place, I cautiously trod down the stairs to find out why they’d returned so early.
    Jenna, my sixteen-year-old, and her recently turned eight-year-old brother, Ben, had spent the night with their father. My ex-husband is a builder, and the previous year he’d relocated to Southern California for a few months to complete a historical renovation. Hank finished that job in February. His current project involved restoring a former gold rush hotel in downtown Placerville.
    The kids were overjoyed about their father’s return to town. Joy wasn’t the word I would use to describe my state of emotions now that Hank was a continual presence in our lives. Annoyed would be a more apt description. Since I was in a relationship for the first time since our divorce three years earlier, Dr. Phil would probably tell me I should no longer be upset that my former husband left me for another woman.
    But Hank’s infidelity still stung. Instead of nailing roof shingles, he’d been nailing his client.
    Ben rushed up and threw his arms around me. I ruffled the thirty-odd cowlicks in his shaggy brown hair. “What are you kids doing back so early?” I asked.
    My tall, whippet-thin daughter wheeled her navy overnight bag over the threshold. “Dad got a phone