Organized for Murder Read Online Free PDF

fingers as she continued, "I mean, first I get overwhelmed by Amelia and dissed by her stepdaughter. Next, I lose income I was kind of counting on, at least for a while, and have to un-order supplies for the job I'm not going to finish. Finally, I can't even spend a quiet evening with my kids because the police haul me away in a squad car like a suspect. Me! The one person with nothing to gain from Amelia's death except the 'benefit' of not having to quit. Can you think of a more stupid motive?"
    "It's their job, Katie." When she glared at him, he quickly added, "Not that I disagree with you."
    She had to laugh then, but reached for the tissues on the dash. "Just drive us home. Please."
    He used one finger to raise her chin. "You okay?"
    "Absolutely." She sniffed again. "But, I didn't thank you for coming tonight. Knowing you were in the building really did make the whole situation easier."
    "Where else would I be?" His teeth reflected bright white.
    "I love you too," she said, returning the smile. "But, I really want to go home."
    "That is one wish I can definitely grant, my lady." Keith kissed her forehead, then settled back into his seat and checked for traffic.
    The Berman house sat unlit and shut tight as they entered the cul-de-sac of the tiny neighborhood, but Kate could see the kitchen light sifting through the windows of their own, otherwise darkened, home. Keith grabbed a stray hockey stick off the front porch, and she pushed through the door. A lamp clicked on in the living room, and Tiffany James, the most reliable of the neighborhood crew of rotating teen sitters, and the daughter of Kate's local nemesis, interior decorator Valerie James, bolted up from the couch.
    "Mrs. McK! They let you go free!" Tiffany shot across the room and surprised Kate with a hug. "Mom was afraid you'd be in the big house for days . Murderers rarely get out on bail."
    I'll just bet your mom was worried about me. Kate's mental sarcasm matched her irritation level, but she kept her voice light as she told the teen, "They only wanted to question me as a witness. Nothing more serious."
    "The police interview many people and follow a lot of leads at the beginning of any investigation," Keith cut in, propping the hockey stick against one wall and hanging their jackets in the closet. "Kate was happy to help in any way."
    Tiffany pulled out of the hug and studied Kate's face. "You're so brave. I hope I have your courage if I ever find myself in equally dire straits."
    Kate felt pressure building in her chest and wanted to snap, 'I need more courage to handle whatever stories you and your mother concoct about me,' but Keith jumped in first. He pulled out his wallet and said, "We appreciate your pitching in tonight, Tiff. Come on and I'll take you home."
    "The twins were angels ," Tiffany effused. She slipped the money into her back pocket and shrugged into a burgundy leather jacket she scooped off the end of the couch. "So brave , so—"
    "Thank you, Tiffany." Kate nearly ran up the stairs to escape.
    She felt soiled from sitting in the interrogation room. After checking on her sleeping "angels," she hit the shower. She came out wearing her favorite, pink silk pajamas. Comfort was suddenly everything to her. Keith was already in bed, propped up on pillows and reading Sports Illustrated.
    "The girl can't help it that her mother's a bitch, honey," Keith said softly, dropping the magazine on the night stand before drawing the covers back for Kate.
    "I know, but now the talk of Hazelton will be how I'm up for capital murder charges or something equally ridiculous." She tugged the comforter straight, then scrunched down into a fetal position. "I'm tempted to keep the girls home from school tomorrow. I don't want them to hear any crazy stories."
    "Which will make people talk all the more." He touched the rubber band on Kate's wrist. "This week has been pretty stressful. How've you been doing?"
    "Six by the time I was released from the police station.