Bait & Switch (Mayfield Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

surrogate nanny who ruled with an iron glare, stayed on well past when her job was completed, and who would take my side against all adversity. In this day and age, she was the fixer on my staff and my most honest friend. Who needs a pet bulldog when you have Clarice?
    “Nora,” Clarice hollered. “You’re in there? Good heavens. If you had any sense, you’d have slept in the Tahoe last night. If I’d known this place was so rundown, I’d have sent you to the chalet in Aspen.”
    “It’s not so bad.” I stepped out onto the cracked concrete of what used to be a patio and yawned. “There’s a chalet in Aspen?”
    “Among others.” Clarice waved a paper in the air. “I compiled a list of Skip’s private properties.”
    “How about coffee?”
    “Yes, please. I’ve been driving all night.”
    My shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I meant, did you bring some? There’s definitely no coffee here.” I ran a hand through my tangled hair. “All night? You just got here?” Boy, it was taking me a while to catch up. “Thank you.”
    “Here, lady.” Something nudged my thigh.
    I jumped and glanced down into clear sea-blue eyes in a small face that was more freckle than not.
    “Mr. Walt says he’s sorry he didn’t come back last night. We got a leak.” A nervous tick, like a half-wink, interrupted his train of thought. He sniffed and bumped the edge of the paper plate against my leg again. “Here’s your breakfast.”
    “Thank you.” I knelt beside him and gave him my best smile. “You live here?”
    The boy nodded then tipped his head toward Clarice. “Who’s she?”
    “My friend.”
    “She’s crabby.”
    I chuckled and whispered. “And she’s always like that. It never gets better.”
    The boy’s eyes widened.
    “Oh, phoo,” Clarice huffed, walking up to us. “I’m a grouch until I’ve had coffee, then I’m sweet as pie.” She hacked the terrible smoker’s cough she still had.
    “We’re not allowed coffee. Only Mr. Walt, but he didn’t have time this morning,” the boy said.
    “’Course not,” Clarice announced. “The caffeine would stunt your growth.” She leaned down until her face was inches from the boy’s. “And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
    I grabbed the plate from the boy’s shaking hands. “Please thank Mr. Walt for me.”
    The boy stood, transfixed, staring at Clarice. Her face is like a roadmap of Canyon Country covered with half an inch of pancake foundation. It had survived an all-night drive without fissure. I could understand the boy’s fascination.
    “There a town around here?” Clarice barked.
    The boy flinched, then pointed. “That way. We go twice a month for supplies.”
    I gently squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you. You can go now.”
    He glanced at me, and I nodded encouragingly. He disappeared as silently as he’d come.
    “You scared him.” I frowned at Clarice.
    “Huh.” Clarice raised the paper towel with a gnarled but perfectly manicured fingertip and glared at the plate’s contents. “Refined carbohydrates and saturated fat. We gotta find a grocery store.”
    I stuffed the better part of a cinnamon roll — the kind that comes in a pressurized cardboard tube — in my mouth and mumbled around it. “Now?”
    “You got something better to do?” Clarice replied over her shoulder as she marched back to her car. “Get in.”
    The return trip to the paved road was much easier when it wasn’t pouring buckets. Clarice navigated around boulders and inexplicable pits with amazing dexterity. It was as though one of the boys’ camp activities had been handing each child a shovel and giving them the go-ahead to dig to China.
    A few blue patches appeared between floaty clouds that no longer had heavy underbellies. I kept my mouth packed with sausage links and additional cinnamon roll in order to protect against the teeth-jarring I’d experienced last night. Besides, the rutted track required all of Clarice’s concentration and was