A Crusty Murder Read Online Free Page A

curtained the reading area. A huge crystal ball was centered on the round tarot table. BettyJo used it when offering her clients the latest update in their love lives. The orb gave off a strange and creepy glow. I knew it was a prop, but nonetheless, it gave me the jitters.
    BettyJo led the way into her apartment. Her living quarters mirrored mine in layout, though our taste in furnishings and colors couldn’t be more different. I adored Celtic furnishings, designs, and knickknacks. BettyJo enjoyed ethereal furnishings and accoutrements. The slate gray walls, neutral tones, and soft brownish-green kitchen cabinets, left me wanting to splash color everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, BettyJo’s taste is quite nice, but bland to the palette I preferred.
    We’d settled at the table with a teapot filled with steaming Earl Grey tea and plates for our empanadas. I chewed mine thoughtfully, sipped tea, and waited for BettyJo to unwind from her busy day. Banking isn’t as easy as people think, and I’d seen her stressed from the job she disliked more than anything.
    “My boss is such an ass,” BettyJo complained. “I can’t find a way to get around her nasty attitude. People think bullying gets them what they want in life, but it just makes people dislike them. On top of that, I think I’m about to be fired over Mrs. Peterson’s demise.” On that note, she stuffed a section of sandwich into her mouth.
    Surprised to hear her employment concerns, I gawked at her in silence, searching for the right words, but found none. I considered what BettyJo had shared about her father and then added Mrs. Peterson’s attitude to the mix. I knew what BettyJo was getting at.
    “When I last spoke to Mrs. Peterson, we had serious words. She was trying to jack-up my rent. The nerve of that woman was amazing,” I ranted. “She told me to move out by the end of the month, so her daughter could open a boutique. When I reminded her of our lease, she threatened me with court, and then added that I could always pay more rent if I wanted to stay. Imagine?”
    Her eyes wide, BettyJo exclaimed, “Cindy has a fabulous job in clothing design. I saw her last week and she’s been asked to work in the New York office next month. I don’t know if she will now, though. Mrs. Peterson wasn’t above using extortion to gain added income.”
    I’d finished the empanada, downed two cups of tea, and was into half of the last sandwich. “I’m not surprised the harridan has been done in. She looked for trouble wherever she went. Seanmhair admonished me when I said it aloud,” I remarked. I leaned back in the chair and asked, “You’re certain you’ll be fired over this?”
    BettyJo grimaced. “Pretty sure. My boss made several snide innuendos that implied relieving me of my position. Screw her. There’s nothing I can do about it. Look on the bright side. It’ll give me a chance to make this business,” BettyJo waved her hand around, “a huge success. How did your day go? I saw the news people outside when I left for work.”
    I told her I’d avoided the media and then shared Seanmhair’s words of wisdom where Aidan Sinclair as a husband was concerned. I laughed over how difficult it would be to concentrate on anything with him in close proximity.
    Casually, I asked, “Have you postponed tonight’s tarot clients?”
    “Not a chance,” BettyJo said with an air of finality. “I removed that awful yellow tape the cops plastered everywhere, ripped the rug up, and tossed it all in the dumpster out back. I even scrubbed the room like the devil was whipping me. The police can kiss my sunny side. I’ve got clients lined up for readings every half hour for three hours straight,” BettyJo glanced at her watch and continued, “starting in about an hour. I can’t afford to lose business because the landlady got herself killed.”
    Proud of her no-nonsense attitude, I said, “Okay then, I’ll leave you to it.” With a smile, I left BettyJo to don her