Kill 'Em with Cayenne Read Online Free

silly. I’d planned to take my snazzy new sneakers out for a spin. Jogging was a recently acquired habit of mine. It’s something I’m trying on for size to balance my pizza addiction. So far the verdict is still out. Before I could talk myself out of crawling back under the covers, I climbed out of bed.
    Ten minutes later, garbed in a faded UNC T-shirt, old gym shorts, and a ridiculously expensive pair of neon-green running shoes, I was good to go. I snapped on Casey’s leash and designated him my jogging partner.
    After a few simple warm-ups, I started down Main Street with Casey trotting obediently at my heels. It was a glorious morning. Billowy clouds drifted across a bright blue sky. Birds chirped in the willow oaks. I jogged past the opera house, then turned onto a residential street. I passed my ex-mother-in-law’s house and kept going. The soles of my shoes rhythmically slapped concrete, and I hit my stride. I felt I could run forever.
    No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when a throbbing, burning pain shot down my shins. Shin splints. I’d apparently overestimated my athletic prowess. Slowing from a jog to a walk, I decided on a shortcut through the town square.
    Casey seemed happier with the slower pace, too. Tugging on his leash, he pulled me toward a clump of azaleas. I gave him more leeway, thinking he wanted to do his business. Instead, Casey began to bark and strain on the leash.
    â€œWhat is it, boy?”
    Casey answered with another series of barks, punctuated by growls.
    I edged closer. When I saw what Casey saw, bile rose in my throat. I thought for a moment I was going to be sick. Beneath the greenery and what at first glance appeared to be a bundle of rags lay a body.
    Becca Dapkins, no longer pretty in pink, was deader ’n’ roadkill.

 
    C HAPTER 4
    â€œI FOUND A dead body,” I blurted the instant my 911 call was answered.
    â€œPiper, hon, that you?”
    â€œPrecious…?” Relief flooded over me at hearing Precious Blessing’s familiar drawl. Precious manned the front desk at the police department with the aplomb of a concierge at a five-star hotel. “I thought you worked afternoons.”
    I inwardly berated myself for the inane comment. How stupid was that? Guess it goes to show the state I was in.
    â€œDorinda’s daughter went into labor. I’m fillin’ in. What’s this about a body?”
    I clutched my cell so tight my knuckles ached. “It’s … she’s … under an azalea bush in the square.”
    â€œSugar”—Precious clucked her tongue—“I’d sure hate to see you in a heap of trouble. Makin’ a false nine-one-one call is a serious offense. If you want to talk to the chief, dial his cell. I’d be more’n happy to give you the number.”
    I huffed out a breath. “Precious, this isn’t a joke. Call McBride and tell him to get his butt over here on the double.”
    â€œAin’t findin’ one dead body enough for you, girl?” she asked, referring to my recent track record. “Sit tight. Cavalry’s comin’.”
    No sooner had I disconnected when the wail of sirens split the air. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the flash of red and blue lights. The rapid response didn’t come as a surprise, since the police department was located on Lincoln Street two blocks away. Seconds later, two squad cars screeched to a halt at the curb.
    Wyatt McBride leaped out of the lead car. His long strides ate up the space that separated us. “What’s this about a body?”
    Even under ordinary circumstances, McBride at six foot one and probably two hundred pounds tends to be intimidating, but when in full cop mode he’s a force to be reckoned with. I resisted the urge to take a step backward. I pointed. “Over there.”
    I watched as McBride shoved branches aside and glimpsed the crumpled form of Becca Dapkins.