Murder Strikes a Pose Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’re Mrs. Marital Bliss doesn’t mean the rest of us have to join you.”
    “I know, but I do worry about you,” she said, sighing. “You’re
    not getting any younger, you know.”
    “When did thirty-two become an old maid?”
    Rene pretended not to hear me. “And you spend waaay too
    much time in that yoga studio. You’re notthe only teacher there, you know.”
    “Maybe not, but the other instructors only teach a few classes a
    week, and they certainly don’t help manage the studio. I can barely get them to take out the garbage.”
    “Come on, Kate. You don’t have to personally oversee every-
    thing, and you know it. Frankly, I’m beginning to think that you
    bury yourself in work to avoid dealing with your own issues.”
    She was right, of course. But that didn’t mean I had to admit it.
    “How can I possibly avoid my own ‘issues’ when I have you to
    remind me of them? Besides, it’s hard to meet people unless you
    hang out in bars or join some online dating service. Neither of
    those is really my thing. How am I supposed to meet someone?”
    “That’s exactly my point!” she said, scowling. “You claim you
    can’t date anyone from the studio, yet you spend all of your time there. This pet store guy may have been your last chance. I don’t want to visit you ten years from now only to be surrounded by a
    hundred cats. You may not mind being the crazy cat lady, but I’m
    allergic!”
    “I don’t even own one cat, Rene. But I do own a business. And
    in spite of what you seem to think, the studio needs my attention more than I need any man.” If I had any hope of getting out of
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    this coffee shop with my ego intact, I needed to change the subject.
    “Speaking of which, are you coming to flow yoga tonight?”
    “Yes, I guess I’d better,” Rene replied, eating the last bite of pastry and licking the frosting-coated whipped cream off her lips. “I love these sticky buns, but they stick right on my ass. I’ve got to work off the calories somehow. You know, I love your studio, but
    you really do need to turn up the heat. Nothing like an hour or
    two of hot yoga to sweat all those nasty carbs out of your thighs.”
    Another reason to hate Rene. As long as I’d known her, I’d
    never noticed an ounce of body fat mar those perfect legs. She ate cinnamon rolls, I crunched celery. She had the kind of body found in the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated , I had thunder thighs.
    Hmm … Maybe she had a point about that hot yoga thing …
    “Now finish up that disgusting soy latte and let’s get going. I’ve got a pet store owner to check out. If you’re not going out with
    him, maybe one of my other friends will.”
    _____
    Time zipped by, and before I knew it, three weeks had passed.
    The great crate experiment with Bella went reasonably well. Cag-
    ing Bella like a zoo animal wasn’t the most elegant solution, but the setup cut down on the daily noise and drama, which were my
    main concerns. After all, how could students find their internal
    Zen if they were forced to inhale flying fur before breath practice and listen to dog fights during meditation? Bella still barked occasionally, but significantly less than before. She seemed basically happy as long as she could be close to George.
    For his part, George kept to his selling schedule like a full-time corporate job. He’d arrive at eleven each morning and sell until
    seven at night. Over time, I stopped noticing his pungent aroma
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    and started looking forward to seeing his friendly face outside my window.
    I felt oddly comforted by his presence—as if I had a private
    security guard on duty from eleven to seven every day. George
    assured me that he and Bella watched out for me; that they kept
    would-be prowlers from sneaking in the finicky front door when I
    wasn’t looking.
    He wasn’t perfect, by any means, but he stayed relatively sober
    each day until his selling shift ended. Then he ambled off with Bella and a bottle for