Read Murder Most Mellow (A Kate Jasper Mystery) for Free Online Page A

friendlier now. Probably because she had some exclusive information to share. “I think Taos is supposed to have to do with Chinese philosophy, or maybe he’s named after that town in New Mexico,” she went on. “But it won’t do you any good to call. He won’t talk to you. He doesn’t talk to anyone.”
    I waited for more, but she only said, “Listen, I’m going back to bed. I bet you have a stack of papers on your desk gathering dust. You usually do. Why don’t you go deal with it?”
    “Vivian, come and see me for lunch today, all right?” I asked. “Just to talk.”
    “I know what kinda stuff you eat for lunch. I think I’ll pass,” she said. Harsh words, but there was a hint of affection in her tone.
    “I’ll make chili,” I offered. “You like my chili.”
    “Okay, okay! I’ll see you for lunch, but I gotta go back to sleep now. Good night, or good morning, or whatever!” she finished, and the line went dead.
    I knew I needed to take a shower eventually and begin my paperwork for the day, but I sat rooted in my comfy chair for hours thinking of Sarah and how I had failed her. Then I remembered Sergeant Feiffer. The Sheriff’s Department had to know by now how Sarah had died. I picked up the phone and dialed.
    Ten minutes and three transfers later I got the sergeant. But he wasn’t very informative. He told me three things. One, Sarah Quinn was dead. Two, they were indeed investigating the death. And three, he wanted to talk to me again. That was it. All my attempts to elicit additional details were stolidly met with “We’re in the process of gathering information now,” the key word being “gathering” as opposed to disseminating. I agreed to be interviewed at my house at one o’clock.
    Only then did I shower and sit down to my Jest Gifts paperwork. My mind was still churning with questions. I worked on my Saw-and-Bones Christmas ad for the medical magazines and wondered. Had Sarah succumbed to a heart attack? Wouldn’t she have shown some sign if she’d had a heart problem? I called the ceramics firm that was supplying the shrunken-head mugs for the psychiatrists. Had she drowned? Can you drown in a hot tub? I checked work orders. Of all people, how could Sarah die? And the worst question of all, would she have died if I had agreed to go and talk to her Sunday night?
    Sarah was special. I had actually begun to believe she was headed for an impressive old age, if not actual immortality. I slogged through vouchers, accounts, bills, registers, freight charges, invoices and tax forms. Then I remembered the answering machine message that Sarah had talked about at our last group.
    Damn. How the hell had I forgotten that? I stopped breathing. Hadn’t the message said something about Sarah’s death?
    That was too spooky to even think about. Suddenly I needed to be with people. Warm living human beings to shield me from the apprehension of death. I pushed myself out of my chair, put on my driving glasses and tore out the door to the shelter of my old brown Toyota. As the engine turned over I even thought up an excuse for leaving the house. I had promised Vivian chili and I didn’t have the time, or the heart, to make homemade. I could pick up canned vegetarian chili at the health-food store downtown and claim it as my own.
    I was pulling up to the stop sign at the end of my narrow street when a white Volvo came whipping around the corner into my lane. It screamed to a stop a few inches from my front bumper. My heart went berserk, crashing erratically against my ribs. I rolled down my window to yell at the driver. Then I saw who was behind the wheel. It was Linda Zatara.
    She backed up and drove around me without looking me in the face. Had she even recognized me? I rolled up my window and turned unsteadily onto the main drag. What was Linda doing in my neighborhood? On my street? The third or fourth time that I asked myself these questions, and received no answers, I realized I was driving