Karma's a Killer Read Online Free Page A

today.”
    â€œToday?”
    â€œToday is Blackie’s big day. I’m going to release him so he can go back to his corvid family. I’ll sure miss the little bugger, though.” She placed her palm tenderly on the side of the cage. “You’ll never forget your mommy, will you?” Her eyes grew wet. “He won’t, you know. Crows have amazing memories. Blackie here will be my friend for the rest of his life. Play your cards right, and he’ll be yours, too.”
    I smiled. “And how would I do that?”
    â€œHold out your hand.”
    I did as instructed—I had a feeling no one intelligent ever argued with Judith—and she placed several unsalted peanuts in my palm. She nodded toward the cage. “Go ahead now, feed him.”
    Blackie cawed and marched to the edge of his cage. I gingerly wove a peanut through the bars, hoping I wasn’t about to lose a finger. Blackie took it, hopped a few inches away, and cracked open the shell. In less than a minute, he hopped back to the edge of the cage and cawed at me again, clearly asking for seconds.
    â€œYou can give him another one. He won’t get fat.”
    I gave him a second peanut. He hammered the shell with his beak and liberated the two nuts within.
    Judith narrowed her eyes and looked at me shrewdly. “What’s your angle, anyway?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI’m supposedly here to teach people how to handle injured wildlife. Truthfully, I’m hoping to scrounge up donations. She gestured with her chin toward Tiffany and the Pete’s Pets booth. “Your friend over there is selling overpriced dog food. But I can’t figure out where you fit in. What’s a yoga studio doing at a pet rally?”
    I pointed toward the main event stage. “My boyfriend organized the fun walk.” I mentally crossed my fingers and hoped that would end the conversation.
    Judith eyed me expectantly. “And?”
    I should have known I wouldn’t get off that easily. I glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned forward and mumbled.
    Judith frowned and cupped her hand around her ear. “What’s that? You’ll have to talk a might louder than that, honey. I’m seventy-five. My hearing has gone south with the rest of my body.”
    I sighed, steeled my shoulders, and forced myself to say the words at full volume. “I’m teaching a Doga class.”
    â€œDoga? What in the heck is Doga?”
    I tried not to flinch. “Yoga for dogs.”
    Judith shook her head in apparent disbelief. “Well, now don’t that beat all? Yoga for dogs … ” Her voice trailed off.
    To be honest, I wasn’t all that sure about Doga myself. My breath-centered style of yoga required mindful connection of movement and breath—a skill that was challenging for most humans to master. The thought of Fluffy or Fido inhaling while lifting his paws seemed, well, ludicrous.
    But when Michael flashed his gorgeous blue-green eyes and asked me to teach Doga as part of the closing ceremonies for today’s event, I couldn’t say no. So I’d done some research, set my ego aside, and here I was.
    Teaching Doga.
    At best, I would show the (hopefully small) class a few human-assisted dog stretches. At worst, I’d become the new laughingstock of the Seattle yoga community. If I got super lucky, Raven’s protesters would stage a sit-in and block the entrance to my yoga space, making the entire point moot.
    Which reminded me, I needed to find Michael and warn him about the protesters.
    I was about to do exactly that, when a sound startled me from behind.

Three
    â€œThere she is!”
    Dale Evans, my white-bearded, goat-rescuing attorney from Orcas, waved furiously from the edge of my booth. Michael stood behind him, grinning from one gorgeously crinkled eye to the other. I’d never met the two women standing between them, but even they