Death of a Neighborhood Witch (Jaine Austen Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

nudged Mrs. Hurlbutt aside so he could take the seat on the sofa closest to Peter’s chair.
    “So sorry I’m late,” he said. “Crazy busy at Neiman’s.”
    “You work at Neiman Marcus?” Kevin Moore asked, a flicker of interest lighting up her eyes.
    “Yes, I’m head shoe buyer,” Lance said, giving himself a hefty promotion.
    “Is that so?” Mr. Hurlbutt looked up from the nut bowl where he had been diligently rummaging for cashews. “I always thought you were a shoe salesman.”
    Oh, darling Mr. Hurlbutt! I felt like throwing my arms around him and kissing the dear man.
    “Not anymore,” Lance lied with the ease of a campaigning congressman. “I was promoted ages ago.”
    “Peter,” Emmeline informed Lance, still agog at the news, “is a book editor!”
    “So I’ve heard.” Lance turned to Peter, waxing euphoric.
    “I just love to read! I mean, when I’m not working or volunteering with the homeless, I’m always reading. If there’s one thing I love, it’s literature!”
    Oh, please. The only thing Lance ever read were his own tweets.
    “How interesting you’re a book editor, Peter,” I horned in, determined to score a point for Team Jaine. “Actually, I’m a writer.”
    “Yes,” Lance quickly interjected, “Jaine writes the quaintest toilet bowl ads. You can see them on bus stops all over town.”
    By now I was ready to strangle the bronzed monster. I tuned out as he hogged the conversation, yammering on about his love of literature.
    At last his monologue was interrupted when another neighbor showed up, a cute young gal in her twenties who lived in the duplex next to the Hurlbutts’. I didn’t know her name, but according to Lance, she was a graduate student at UCLA. Like Kevin Moore, she was a wispy size 2.
    Most distressing.
    “Welcome!” Peter said, jumping up to greet her and beaming her a smile just a little too friendly for my liking.
    “I’m Amy Chang,” she said, smiling up at him from under a thick fringe of bangs. “Just dropped by to welcome you to the block.”
    “Come in, come in!” he said, ushering her inside.
    “Oh, don’t they make a cute couple,” Lila gushed.
    Lance shot her an evil glare while I took the high road and merely pictured myself gagging her with her support hose.
    Oh, well. At least Amy’s arrival put an end to Lance’s “I Love Literature” chat.
    The Moores started telling Peter about the trendy new restaurants in the neighborhood, Mr. Hurlbutt told him where to get the best price on gas, and Emmeline once again offered to fix him up with her granddaughter.
    “It’s great to have such nice neighbors,” he said as we pelted him with advice. “But I’ve got to ask. What about the lady across the street? The one with the Do Not Trespass sign on her front lawn?”
    “Oh, Cryptessa.” Mrs. Hurlbutt rolled her eyes. “She’s impossible.”
    A chorus of amens filled the air.
    “Cryptessa?” Peter asked.
    “Cryptessa Muldoon. From the old sitcom I Married a Zombie .”
    “Really?” Peter’s eyes were wide with surprise. “Cryptessa Muldoon lives on our block?”
    “Much to everyone’s regret,” Matt said.
    “The last time I rang her doorbell to have her sign a petition,” Lila said, “the old hag had the nerve to slam the door in my face.”
    “That’s nothing,” said Mrs. Hurlbutt. “I’m convinced Cryptessa was the one who dug up our tulips last year.”
    “It could’ve been a squirrel,” said Mr. Hurlbutt.
    “Oh, please, Harold. It wasn’t a squirrel. It was that godawful witch. She’s always been jealous of our front yard. The only things that ever take root in her garden are stinkweeds. Cryptessa killed our tulips. No doubt about it.”
    “She’s a killer, all right,” Emmy chimed in. “ Last month, she tried to kill my darling Lana Turner.”
    “Lana Turner’s her dog,” Lance explained to Peter, taking advantage of the opportunity to shoot him a sickeningly gooey smile.
    “Poor Lana was out on the