The Corpse Wore Cashmere Read Online Free Page A

and am just heading home. Can’t wait to crash.” He stretched his shoulders and finger-combed his dark hair from his forehead. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
    “Of course not.”
    He dropped his newspaper on the table and tapped the headlines. “It’s terrible about Myrtle’s sister. I talked to A. K. last night, and she told me about your premonition.”
    “Oh?” Susan wished A. K. hadn’t, even though it wouldn’t come as a shock to Jack. He, of all people, understood. His gaze lingered on her face as if reading her mind.
    “Hey, if anyone would believe you, it’d be me. I shrugged you off once, but never again. I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t uncovered those who wanted to see me dead. Thanks for being persistent.” He stared hard at her and frowned. “I am surprised you’re still having visions, though. I thought as your injury healed, they might fade. How do you feel about having that ability?”
    “If I could stop it, I would.”
    “Why? You’ve already proven you can use what you see to save lives.”
    “Yeah, but what do I do about the nightmares, the anxiety that follows each episode?”
    “If you want, I can give you a prescription to help you sleep.”
    “If they get any worse, I might take you up on that.”
    Tonya brought their breakfast, and the conversation changed to talk about the hospital and the new costume shop. Before long, they had finished their meal.
    “Well, I’m out of here,” he said, putting a twenty on the table. “My treat.”
    “Thanks. A. K. will be envious that I had breakfast with her significant other.”
    “You, she trusts. Give her a hug for me.” Jack waved to Tonya as he headed for the door.
    Susan gathered her purse, scooted out of the booth, and hurried to her yellow Camaro. The rain had slacked to a drizzle, and there were breaks in the clouds. Maybe Wesley would be spared a wet day after all. By now, he should be on the river.
    She turned on her radio, remembering what he had said about the presence of the news media. The deep voice of a morning talk show host rambled on about the prospect of gas prices going higher but didn’t mentioned anything about the dragging operation.
    Before pulling onto the highway, Susan stopped for a fast-moving black van. It sped past, kicking up a spray of water. The word Coroner was stenciled in white letters on the side panel. Swallowing hard, she fought back a bitter taste in her mouth. The presence of the medical examiner could mean only one thing—the recovery of additional remains. The car behind her honked, and she shook the thought from her head. Raising her hand, she signaled to the driver she was sorry and drove onto the highway toward the Bawdy Boutique.
    To Susan’s surprise, she had arrived before anyone. She unlocked the front door. Inside, she stooped to pick up yesterday’s mail, which had scattered on the floor beneath the drop slot.
    An engine rumbled, and A. K.’s red Mustang swung in beside Susan’s Camaro. She exited the vehicle in a flash and strode toward the shop. “I almost beat you.”
    “I’m surprised you didn’t, as fast as you drive. Shouldn’t you be opening the Purple Pickle?”
    “In a minute. Give me a chance to grab some coffee and see what’s on the agenda for today.”
    “Making money,” Susan said with a grin as she turned on the lights. “I’ll let you do the honor while I check the mail.” They walked to the office at the back of the store from where she could look out over the boutique through a glass partition.
    “By the way, I love your outfit,” A. K. said. “Did you ever think about modeling? You’re a beautiful woman, tall and slender, just the look they like.”
    “Life on the runway is a short-lived career. There’s longevity in what I’m doing.”
    “Just a thought,” A. K. said, glancing out over the shop. “Don’t imagine we’ll have near the customers we had yesterday. I gotta say though, the opening was a