A Trifle Dead: Cafe La Femme, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF

back towards my building. Nice arse. Probably gay. So it goes.
    ‘And where the hell have you been?’ barked a voice, as I carried my load into the café courtyard. Bishop.
    I looked at my boxes with Bev’s Cakes printed across the top. ‘Obviously I was working my other day job as a strippergram.’
    ‘You’re a witness in a murder inquiry. You can’t go swanning off without telling us.’
    ‘I’m sorry, they didn’t cover that in murder witness school. Anyway, who says I’m a witness? I had my eyes closed the entire time I was looking at that dead body.’
    This wasn’t Bishop and I being particularly cranky with each other because of the dead body in my building. This was how we always were with each other.
    Bonking, shagging, screwing—all things that Bishop and I should have done years ago. There was no bonking him now. He had never quite got over the fact that, once upon a time (ten years ago!), I was sixteen years old while he was one of my dad’s constables at the incredibly grown up age of twenty. For some reason, he’s never given me the credit for growing up.
    When Dad skipped the state for his new life of blissful retirement, things between Bishop and me went from bad to worse. The past three months had been particularly dire. I don’t need an older brother figure, especially one that I want to lick honey off. It’s bad for my psyche.
    ‘Are you going to leave your car there?’ he demanded as I walked past him and let myself through the kitchen door, balancing boxes on my hip.
    I sighed. ‘Parking inspectors get free coffee. But they have to pay for their own cake. Otherwise, it would be bribery.’
    It was a good line, and I was hoping he would let me end on it. But Bishop hates not having the last word.
    I nodded to Nin as I set the boxes down on the table, and she fetched clean biscuit jars from the cupboard so we could store our loot. The cheesecakes went straight into the fridge.
    ‘Who’s that bloke you were with?’ Bishop demanded, filling my doorway.
    I stacked melting moments into a jar, while Nin did the jam drops. ‘You’re the police officer. Detect me.’
    ‘Stewart McTavish, resident of Melbourne until a week ago,’ he rapped out.
    I paused. ‘Don’t know if he’s into women, do you? Because you could save me some time…’
    ‘He’s only been here a week, Tish, and there’s a suspicious death in the building where he works? I can’t believe you just went driving off with someone you’d barely met. Aren’t you smarter than that?’
    ‘What can I say? He has a cute accent, it made me giddy.’
    ‘Are you actually trying to make my job difficult?’
    ‘No, I’m naturally difficult. The job thing is an unexpected bonus. How is my love life or distinct lack of it anything to do with you?’ I glared at him. ‘Why are you in my face? No leads? Been taken off the case? Wait—did Constable Heather get promoted over you already?’
    Bishop sighed, and looked very tired. ‘Can you try and stay out of trouble for a few days?’
    ‘That’s lovely. You’re the one who goes finding dead bodies all over the place, and I’m supposed to stay out of trouble? I was delivering muffins.’ I finished with the biscuits and started slicing brownies, possibly with more violent knife action than was actually required. Nin, who usually did that job, sensibly stayed out of my way.
    Bishop looked as if he was trying not to put a fork between his eyes. He gets that expression around me a lot. ‘Anderson will need to see you,’ he said finally, writing a number on one of my many sticky note pads, and attaching it to the fridge. ‘Some time today. He needs to take DNA samples to eliminate any bits of you they find at the scene.’
    ‘Technology,’ I said, slightly impressed. ‘Hey, if I was the murderer, it would be the perfect crime. You’d have to cross me off the suspect list.’
    ‘You’ll always be on someone’s suspect list, Tish.’
    ‘Fine,’ I said as he made his