Pink Balloons and Other Deadly Things (Mystery Series - Book One) Read Online Free

on its legs. She recoiled as though he were covered with porcupine quills.
    Ruth-Ann’s grandparents are Holocaust survivors. They’ve never gotten over their terror of anyone in uniform. It’s a fear they've unwittingly passed on to their granddaughter.
    “What’s happening? What are they doing here?” she whispered, after the door had closed behind them.
    I masked my own panic with a forced smile. “Oh, it’s nothing...just—-they were asking me some questions about-—someone I used to know.”
    “Are you in trouble?”
    “Oh, no, no,” I mumbled, brushing past her and sticking a note on the door, telling Vickie I’d had an emergency and would call to reschedule. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel today, Ruth-Ann. I'm really sorry, but there’s something I have to do.” I was having a tough time standing still, and I was edging away when she caught my arm.
    “But are they going to let you...are you going to be able to have Group tomorrow? Or just on Thursday?”
    I couldn't keep the irritation out of my voice. “Both days. Nothing’s changed.”
    Her lower lip quivered. “I was afraid you--I couldn’t stand it if anything---”
    “Everything's fine, really. Just something’s come up I have to take care of.” Gently I detached her hand. “Call me tonight and we’ll make an appointment for one evening during the week. I promise, okay?”
    She backed away, nodding, and I was out of there, running down the street, before she could say another word.
    I knew I hadn't handled things well. Ruth-Ann’s very fragile right now. A few weeks ago she had a mind-blowing breakthrough, a reliving of a traumatic past experience, and she’s still pretty shaky. I’d have to make it up to her at her next session. When I glanced back she was standing in front of my office building, her arms wrapped around her rotund little body, shivering like one of those orphaned seal pups you see on the Discovery Channel.

CHAPTER THREE
Later
    “WELL HAIL, HAIL, the wicked witch is dead. Break out the champagne.”
    Displaying gleaming white teeth, Meg grinned at me from behind the pristine counter of her café–art shop. Meg’s Place is suburban New York’s answer to Cheers, only for the foodaholic set. Like my office it’s located in the small town of Piermont. Situated on the banks of the Hudson, Piermont is a picturesque community struggling to balance old-world atmosphere with modern commercialism and doing a decent job of retaining its charm. The narrow main street winds through the center of a town that on weekends is congested with tourists bent on finding the ideal gift for the person who has everything, or the perfect antique for that glaringly bare spot in the living room. If the feet give out, there are multiple places to find sustenance, including those gourmet’s delights, Freelance Café and Xaviers, run by the talented Kelly brothers. And now, of course, there’s Meg’s Place.
    Meg has decorated her café in shades of green and peach, designed to make you think it is spring all year round. Everywhere you look, you see magnificent arrangements of fresh flowers, tulips mixed with roses and lilacs and tiger lilies and daisies, surrounded by baby’s breath and lush ferns. In the fall and winter you'd think Meg would go with mums, but she pays the price and makes you believe it's still spring. A great place to be when you're feeling down.
    Surrounding the small tables where customers pig out on even better than Starbuck’s coffee and delectable homemade baked goodies, are shelves displaying sculptures and art objects that Meg takes on consignment and sells. On the wall over the counter, she’s hung photographs she herself has taken, photography being her hobby and first love. She once had a show in New York City. For a reason I haven’t been able to get her to talk about, she gave up photography as a profession, moved to Piermont, and opened up the café. In less than a year and a half, she’s built