Read Online A Cup of Jo by Sandra Balzo - Free Book Online Page A

Kate at that rag?'
    'Don't trundle your undies into a bundle,' Sarah said. 'She's just working at the Observer part-time. I think Kate needs the help because of the moonlighting she herself's doing for cable news.'
    Caron and I had met years ago in the marketing department of First National. Luckily for Caron, that was pre-Anita Hampton. At the time, Caron wrote advertising copy and I'd managed special events. When she married her lawyer-husband Bernie, and I got hitched to his college room-mate, Ted, the four of us became 'couple friends'.
    The relationship with Caron had survived my divorce, our partnership and that partnership breaking up. She and I remained tight, but . . . 'This is the first I've heard that Caron hadn't adjusted very well to the "life of leisure".'
    'Maybe she needs a new challenge,' Sarah said.
    'Writing obits?' And b efore people died?
    'You're right.' A dry reply. 'Pales in comparison to pouring coffee.'
    I could debate Sarah on the subject. Expound on the challenges of running a small business. Extol the rewards of financial self-sufficiency.
    Nah.
    My new partner was looking a little hurt. 'Why do you care, Maggy? It's Caron's life.'
    'You're right,' I said, sensing Sarah was looking for reassurance. I rested a palm on her shoulder. 'And things have worked out for the best. I could never top you as a partner.'
    Sarah looked at my hand.
    I removed it and cleared my throat. 'Anyway, things were so busy when I came back in that I didn't get a chance to tell you: JoLynne stuffer . . . I mean, suffocated.'
    'That was quick. How'd you find out?'
    'One of Kevin's guys. Apparently his boss told him.'
    'If I was the deceased's husband,' Sarah said, 'I'd stop talking and start running.'
    'Why?'
    'Why not?' Sarah picked up a dish towel and started to wipe the counter. 'Rebecca maintains her sister is – OK, was, but always had been – a slut. Maybe Kevin got tired of it.'
    'Aren't you making a lot of assumptions?' I asked. 'We don't even know JoLynne was murdered.'
    Though that determination sure would be easier on our umbrella insurance policy. At least, I didn't think you could be held liable for Person A murdering Person B. Unless, of course, Person B died because of your negligence. Like not having the damn inflatables roped off . . .
    ' Not murder? Please.' Sarah snorted. 'What was it then, suicide? JoLynne presses a pillow over her face and then cannon-balls into a giant coffee cup?'
    'I concede that suicide is a stretch. But it could have been an accident.'
    'You mean like she fell into the cup and hit her head, had a seizure and choked on her tongue?'
    Sarah was a tough audience.
    'Not "falling",' I said. 'That might mean we didn't take reasonable precautions. Like not putting a fence around your swimming pool.'
    'Well,' Sarah seemed unconcerned, 'that'd be Kevin's problem, right? He's the contractor.'
    She had gone back to her wiping, doing a yeoman's job of rearranging the bacteria. I pulled a spray bottle of disinfectant from under the sink.
    My partner accepted it with a long-suffering look and started over on the thick granite counters. The serving windows of Uncommon Grounds were formerly the ticket windows of the historical depot. 'Formerly', because the travel-by-rail process was now completely computerized. Stick your charge card in the kiosk on the corner of our porch, choose a route and out comes your train ticket.
    Stepping back, Sarah surveyed her work. 'What I want to know is why JoLynne was up there in the first place.' With a glance at me, Sarah sprayed and wiped the same surface area again.
    'Got me.' I pointed. 'You missed a spot.'
    Wordlessly, though rather stiffly, my partner handed me the towel and the bottle. Sometimes, even Sarah Kingston doesn't trust herself to speak.
    The day continued in like manner. That is, Sarah did something, I corrected it – only to make her better, of course – and she left me to do the task myself.
    Finally, I got smart and asked Amy, who'd