Dead Woman's Shoes: 1 (Lexy Lomax Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF

but she knew that look.
    Some while ago she’d made the mistake of appearing in Heirlooms in Your Attic , Gerard’s long-running TV show. Lexy had been a kind of glamorous sidekick, climbing up loft ladders and helping him forage through boxes of old tat – anything, in fact, that involved her bending over in tight jeans. A number of men began emailing Gerard’s website, asking for her vital statistics. One or two had even recognised her in the street. Gerard cut her out of the next series. He couldn’t bear to be upstaged. But the damage was done. She had a feeling that this miserable-looking specimen might be a member of the fan club, judging by the way he was gazing at her.
    Then Lexy frowned. She kept forgetting. She wasn’t a glamorous blonde in tight jeans any more. There was no way on earth this man could have recognised her from the show. So, how else…?
    “Kinky Lomax,” repeated the receptionist loudly, indicating the surgery door.
    Lexy leapt up, keeping her head turned from the strange, disconcerting man.
    She dropped her completed form on the reception desk, rapped on the surgery door and bundled quickly through it.
    Lexy had already made up her mind what the vet would be like. Irritable, balding, harassed, probably nursing a peptic ulcer. Which is how anyone with four chihuahuas was going to be. She was heading that way herself with just the one.
    If he was as offensive as everyone else she had met so far, that was it. She wasn’t going to take any more crap from…
    “Hi there.” He was large and handsome, with wavy golden-brown hair, clear luminous eyes and a perfectly good-humoured countenance. Rather like a well-groomed Labrador, in fact.
    “Ms Lomax?” He smiled, showing a flash of even white teeth and healthy pink gums. “I’m Guy Ellenger.”
    Temporarily nonplussed, Lexy plonked Kinky on the examination bench, unwrapping the dishcloth from his head. He had said Ms. He was a man, and he had called her Ms – without prompting.
    He took hold of Kinky confidently. “Let’s have a look at you then.” His voice had the same Suffolk lilt as the receptionist, although there any resemblance with her seemed to end. “You know what, you’re just like my Juan.”
    “One?” Lexy found herself exclaiming accusingly. “Your sister said you had four.”
    He flashed that smile at her again. “Yes, that’s right. Juan, Jose, Chico and Gomez. I inherited them from my godfather.”
    “Oh,” said Lexy. “I inherited this one too. From my mother-in-law. Ex-mother-in-law, that is.” She wasn’t sure why she added that last detail.
    “What a coincidence!” Their eyes met briefly. “So, are you new to Clopwolde?”
    “I moved here yesterday.” She watched him closely for signs of disapproval but his smooth face remained neutral.
    Probably can’t afford to be choosy about who he treats – he obviously needs the money, she thought, looking at the shabby lino and peeling paintwork on the window frames, which in turn reminded her of Otter’s End, and her own financial dilemma.
    The vet was peering at Kinky’s ear. “Nasty cut.”
    “Yeah. He was chasing a …” Lexy hesitated. She wasn’t going to tell him that Kinky had been chasing a chuffing great stag. It was embarrassing and almost certainly illegal. “…a cat.”
    But she wished she had stuck with the buck. The vet’s expression had changed to one of consternation. “Chasing a cat?” he almost snapped. “Did he harm it at all?”
    “God, no,” said Lexy, suddenly anxious. “Look at the size of him! Any self-respecting cat could deck him with one whack. In fact, that has been known to happen. Thing is, he’s always chasing things. He’s never actually bitten anything. Main problem is he keeps getting himself duffed up. Went after a police horse once and got kicked into the Thames. Had to fish him out with an umbrella. Never learns.” Lexy realised that she was babbling.
    Her incoherent speech had seemed to work, though,