Makeovers Can Be Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

now.
    When the six o′clock news show wrapped, I smiled off an invitation from a couple of my reporter friends to join the nightly migration to our favorite watering hole, a restaurant called Bug-tussles. At this point I was craving the solace of solitude, not shop talk.
    My spirits rose when I reached the parking structure and saw my new car, a BMW Z4. I′d bought the silver sports coupe used, but its shark-like curves gleamed like it had just rolled off a showroom floor. My James Bond car, Evelyn called it. It was a wildly impractical machine to own, but fun as hell to drive.
    When I pulled up in front of my house, I could just make out the edges of a furry, familiar profile. Elfie, my rag-doll cat, was posted at her usual spot in the bay window of the little foursquare house I′d rented a few months earlier in the Trinity Heights section of town.
    Once inside, I clicked on the kitchen light. As if to reward my self-restraint for not checking my messages during the drive home, the red light on the answering machine on the faux-granite counter was blinking.
    ″Hi,″ a familiar voice began. It was Jonathan.
    No ″Hallo, luv,″ his usual salutation for me.
    My boyfriend′s voice sounded two degrees cooler than usual as he continued, ″There′s been a bit of a cock-up with my schedule and I had to change my plans—right now I′m not sure when I′m coming back. Might be another week or two. Keep you posted, all right?″ he said. ″Cheerio.″
    Click.

Chapter 6
    Straight from the Bunny′s Mouth
    A friend of mine swears that a glass of simple carrot
juice delivers an immediate beauty boost to her skin.
Nutritionists agree that carrot juice helps to detoxify
the liver, ward off acne, and inject your system with
other beauty-boosting antioxidants and vitamins, in-
cluding:
    • beta-carotene
    • vitamins A, B1, B2, C, and E
    • an insulin-like plant hormone that is reported to be beneficial against diabetes
    So, why not take a cue from the bunnies? Eat carrots or drink carrot juice every day.
     
—From The Little Book of Beauty Secrets by Mimi Morgan
     
     
    Cheerio?
    I glared at the answering machine as if it could transmit my baleful energy through the undersea cables all the way to London, and deliver a thwack on my boyfriend′s forehead. Where was his usual ″I love you″ or even ″Miss you, luv″? There wasn′t the slightest hint of affection in the message he′d left for me. What was up?
    ″What cock-up with your schedule?″ I demanded of the machine. ″What are you talking about?″
    Obviously, Jonathan′s mother wasn′t dying. Obviously, he wasn′t lying in a ditch someplace in a London slum. Obviously , he simply couldn′t be bothered to call before now to let me know what the hell was going on with him.
    A throbbing pulse began at my temples, then spread like a wildfire crackling across my scalp; I snatched up my cordless phone to call Jonathan back.
    ″Down, girl,″ I cautioned my temper before replacing the phone carefully in its base. What was the point of getting angry?
    My mind leapfrogged to the worst-case conclusion about Jonathan′s message: The answer must be that he was cooling off on me. I′d heard the tone of voice he′d used in his message once before in the past, from an old boyfriend who′d then proceeded to inform me that he was dumping me for the new TelePrompTer girl. But at least that guy had had the guts to deliver his message in person.
    ″What gives? First you avoid talking to me; then you leave me a cold-ass message like that?″ I wailed at the answering machine, which sat in stony silence. ″How cheesy. How cowardly . If that′s all you have to say, then as far as I′m concerned you can—you can just . . .″
    He could rot in hell.
    In a fit of pique, I deleted Jonathan′s number from my contact list. Okay, maybe that was an overreaction (and I had his number memorized anyway), but his frosty tone had hit me like a gut kick. He′d spoken like we