Real Women Eat Cake: A Yellow Rose Cozy Mystery (Yellow Rose Mystery Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF
Author: K. P. Hilton
opened and the frame was filled by a large pale-skinned man with dark circles under his eyes dressed in a white T-shirt and well-worn jeans. Betty didn't have a carry-and-concealed license, but the idea was suddenly very appealing to her.
The man stood six-four with wide shoulders and arms as thick as her legs. The rest of him was proportioned accordingly. Betty pegged him at around thirty, with wavy dark hair and a set of thorns tattooed around his left arm. He looked at Betty without expression and said, “Yeah?”
“Hi. I'm Betty Hitchens. I understand Arnold Sanders live here. Is he available?”
The giant man rubbed his chin. His gaze was even and unemotional. He could be pondering my request, thinking about a leaky pipe, or considering tearing off one of my arms and beating me with it, thought Betty. It was hard for her to tell.
“Food’s cooking,” he said. With that, he turned and walked inside. He gave a backwards motion with his arm and said, “Come on in, if you want.”
Oooh, that's probably not a good idea. Still, Betty was bound and determined to get her information. She fingered the small chemical spray container in her pants pocket and followed the man inside to the kitchen. Bacon grease popped and sizzled in a cast iron skillet. The man lifted a half dozen slices individually with a fork and placed them on a plate covered with a paper towel. He stirred a pot of oatmeal, then killed the flame underneath it. A Denver omelet the size of Colorado overflowed on a plate next to the range. He took a long pull from a half gallon juice container before digging into the oatmeal, crushing two pieces of the bacon into it first.
“I’m Jim, Arnold’s cousin,” he said between mouthfuls. “He's not here any more.”
Betty nodded thoughtfully as if absorbing ancient wisdom from an all-knowing sage. She didn’t want to speak or move too quickly in the off-chance Jim was high strung underneath all that nonchalance. A meaty arm swung up and down like a piston as he ate the oatmeal.
“Any idea when he’ll return?”
“He's not coming back,” he said. “Moved.”
“Can you tell me where?”
“Out of town.”
“Got an address or a phone number?” Betty said, hoping she wasn't testing the man's patience.
“Think he headed to Frisco.”
“But you’re not sure?”
Jim shook his head.
“Any idea why he left?”
“Didn’t say. Might have something to do with his legal problems.”
Oh, goody, thought Betty. More problems.
“Here’s my card,” Betty said, placing one of her new business cards with her work number on the counter next to the toaster. “I’d appreciate a call if you hear from him.”
Jim gave Betty a look that told her he didn't want to get involved.
“Your choice as to what to do with it,” Betty continued. “You could leave it at a restaurant that draws cards for business owners next time you eat out if you like. I could win a free lunch. I’d even share it with you.”
Jim put his fist to his stomach and gave a soft belch. “Anything else?”
Betty told him no and thanked him for talking with her. She offered to let herself out and was met with no objection.
Frisco was over four hours away. She decided to let the police track Arnold down, assuming that’s where he really went. Her only regret was that she hadn't made a pitch for her cakes. She was pretty sure Jim could pound down at least one a day. She got in her car, knowing where she needed to head next.
Chapter 10
Down by the lake the next morning, the air was fresh and crisp – like the spray from an apple after taking a deep bite. Martin Lane parked and made his way down to the lot. Crumpled fliers and plastic bottle caps littered the grass. He picked up one of the fliers, crushed it in his fist, and tossed it at a rain-soaked plastic bin. It circled the edge, then teetered over the side. A sinewy
The man stood six-four with wide shoulders and arms as thick as her legs. The rest of him was proportioned accordingly. Betty pegged him at around thirty, with wavy dark hair and a set of thorns tattooed around his left arm. He looked at Betty without expression and said, “Yeah?”
“Hi. I'm Betty Hitchens. I understand Arnold Sanders live here. Is he available?”
The giant man rubbed his chin. His gaze was even and unemotional. He could be pondering my request, thinking about a leaky pipe, or considering tearing off one of my arms and beating me with it, thought Betty. It was hard for her to tell.
“Food’s cooking,” he said. With that, he turned and walked inside. He gave a backwards motion with his arm and said, “Come on in, if you want.”
Oooh, that's probably not a good idea. Still, Betty was bound and determined to get her information. She fingered the small chemical spray container in her pants pocket and followed the man inside to the kitchen. Bacon grease popped and sizzled in a cast iron skillet. The man lifted a half dozen slices individually with a fork and placed them on a plate covered with a paper towel. He stirred a pot of oatmeal, then killed the flame underneath it. A Denver omelet the size of Colorado overflowed on a plate next to the range. He took a long pull from a half gallon juice container before digging into the oatmeal, crushing two pieces of the bacon into it first.
“I’m Jim, Arnold’s cousin,” he said between mouthfuls. “He's not here any more.”
Betty nodded thoughtfully as if absorbing ancient wisdom from an all-knowing sage. She didn’t want to speak or move too quickly in the off-chance Jim was high strung underneath all that nonchalance. A meaty arm swung up and down like a piston as he ate the oatmeal.
“Any idea when he’ll return?”
“He's not coming back,” he said. “Moved.”
“Can you tell me where?”
“Out of town.”
“Got an address or a phone number?” Betty said, hoping she wasn't testing the man's patience.
“Think he headed to Frisco.”
“But you’re not sure?”
Jim shook his head.
“Any idea why he left?”
“Didn’t say. Might have something to do with his legal problems.”
Oh, goody, thought Betty. More problems.
“Here’s my card,” Betty said, placing one of her new business cards with her work number on the counter next to the toaster. “I’d appreciate a call if you hear from him.”
Jim gave Betty a look that told her he didn't want to get involved.
“Your choice as to what to do with it,” Betty continued. “You could leave it at a restaurant that draws cards for business owners next time you eat out if you like. I could win a free lunch. I’d even share it with you.”
Jim put his fist to his stomach and gave a soft belch. “Anything else?”
Betty told him no and thanked him for talking with her. She offered to let herself out and was met with no objection.
Frisco was over four hours away. She decided to let the police track Arnold down, assuming that’s where he really went. Her only regret was that she hadn't made a pitch for her cakes. She was pretty sure Jim could pound down at least one a day. She got in her car, knowing where she needed to head next.
Chapter 10
Down by the lake the next morning, the air was fresh and crisp – like the spray from an apple after taking a deep bite. Martin Lane parked and made his way down to the lot. Crumpled fliers and plastic bottle caps littered the grass. He picked up one of the fliers, crushed it in his fist, and tossed it at a rain-soaked plastic bin. It circled the edge, then teetered over the side. A sinewy
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