The Semi-Sweet Hereafter Read Online Free PDF

job he’d taken on. Knowing him, he would arrange air travel, grab his go bag, and intimidate L.A.’s infamously gridlocked traffic out of his path while driving. When engaged in a mission, Danny was a fearsome sight.
    He was my fearsome sight. I needed him.
    â€œYou’ll just have to prove you didn’t do it, then,” he said now. “You’re not a murderer. You like everybody. They like you.”
    Just like that, everything became clearer. Count on Danny to get down to brass tacks. He didn’t usually add in mushy stuff about my personal likability, of course, but this was a crisis.
    He might be built like a muscleman, but he wasn’t made of stone. When it came to me, Danny was surprisingly schmaltzy.
    I mean, not that we were dating, or anything. God forbid. We’d tried that once and lived to regret it. Now we knew better.
    â€œI’m not paying you overtime for an overnight flight,” I joked, still searching for my equilibrium. I started walking.
    â€œI’m not flying coach. Those seats will squash me like a sardine,” Danny shot back. “Business class. Deal with it.”
    Despite everything, I smiled. I sniffled. I smiled again, knowing he was doing his best to divert me from all the drama.
    I didn’t know how. Or when. But I knew everything would be okay. Eventually. Because I intended to make sure it was.
    One way or another. But first, now that I felt calmer and readier to deal with everything, I needed to call Phoebe.
    * * *
    After news broke of Jeremy’s death, chaos descended.
    I wanted to leave London altogether, but I couldn’t. For one thing, I was a suspect in Jeremy’s murder. For another, I was under contract to work at Primrose until Phoebe pronounced the shop’s problems solved. That was our agreement. I typically keep my consultations open-ended, taking on one at a time and working it from analysis to enhancement to report, step by step.
    I’m methodical like that. I’m also a stickler for details and an unrepentant procrastinator. You’d think those qualities wouldn’t go together. You’d be wrong. However kooky, my methods work. My clients are always satisfied. But this was different.
    Phoebe would be different. Maybe she’d want to cancel.
    Most likely, just then, she wouldn’t care about Primrose, its pastries, or its soon-to-be-decadent chocolate treats. She’d be absorbed in mourning the man she loved. In gathering with Jeremy’s family and friends and remembering him. In crying and questioning and making funeral arrangements for her husband.
    I kept on as best I could, taking refuge in what needed to be done. I needed to get up early (hideously early) to arrive at Primrose. I needed to oversee the morning bakers’ work. I needed to taste-test chocolate chunk cookies and chocolate cherry scones. I needed to keep my mouth shut and listen when the curious and surprised Primrose staff gossiped about Jeremy.
    They had a lot to say, actually. Which brought me to . . .
    You’ll just have to prove you didn’t do it, then.
    Danny had been right when he’d said that. He’d said it again when he’d come in from Heathrow to join me, too.
    You’ll just have to prove you didn’t do it.
    I did. So, as much as I wanted to take refuge in chocolate whispering, I had to keep my eyes and ears open for clues. I couldn’t wait for DC Mishra to catch the killer. I had to do a little sleuthing myself. Just on the off chance I could succeed.
    The idea wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. I’ve been mixed up in dangerous situations before and emerged unscathed. A little bruised, battered, or scared, maybe, but mostly okay. I’d survived, and I’d brought justice to some people who needed it.
    I knew I could do it again. With Danny to help me and Travis on call, I figured I could clear my name and troubleshoot Primrose’s problems . . . and comfort Phoebe, too. I