A Perilous Pal (A Friend for Hire Mystery, Band 2) - Softcover

Bradford, Laura

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593334787 ISBN 13: 9780593334782

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2022

Inhaltsangabe

Entrepreneur Emma Westlake’s new business is booming until her latest client is arrested for murder in this new Friend for Hire Mystery by USA Today bestselling author Laura Bradford.




Emma Westlake, proprietor of A Friend for Hire, finds a heart-wrenching email from a prospective client in her inbox. The email is from Kim Felder, a woman struggling with empty-nest syndrome and an out of left field divorce. Determined to help get Kim in a better headspace, Emma suggests she draft a bucket list of things she has always wanted to do in life but has put off in favor of taking care of everyone else.  
 
Together, they fill that list with fun baking classes, traveling, and dancing in the middle of the street for no reason. Kim also adds in some hilarious items about getting even with her ex. But all laughter ends when Kim’s ex winds up dead via one of the ideas Kim proposed. Now, Kim is Deputy Jack Riordan’s lone suspect in a murder Emma knows she did not commit. Emma will have to put her budding relationship with the deputy on the line to corner a cunning killer.
 

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

While spending a rainy afternoon at a friend's house as a child, Laura Bradford fell in love with writing over a stack of blank paper, a box of crayons, and a freshly sharpened number-two pencil. From that moment forward, she never wanted to do or be anything else. Today, Laura is the USA Today bestselling author of the Amish Mysteries, the Emergency Dessert Squad Mysteries, and as Elizabeth Lynn Casey, the Southern Sewing Circle Mysteries.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One

 

Exhausted, Emma Westlake slid the paperback mystery across the wrought iron table and slumped back against her chair. "Part of me wants the next one in the series, and part of me wants to refrain just so I can get to sleep before 3:00 a.m."

 

"You can sleep when you're dead, dear." Dottie Adler ran her age-spotted fingers across the book's detailed cover almost reverently. "It was a good one, wasn't it?"

 

"My favorite one so far."

 

A smile that rivaled the afternoon sun spread the octogenarian's thinning lips wide as she reached for her Limoges teacup atop its matching plate. "You've got five more to keep you busy over the next few weeks."

 

"And then?" Emma asked, ricocheting forward against the table's edge. "Tell me she's writing more."

 

Dottie's sage-green eyes disappeared behind heavy lids for a moment before returning to meet Emma's across the rim of her cup. "I wish I could."

 

"But what do I do then? How will I know what's going on with these characters you've gotten me attached to?"

 

"You reread. And you pray."

 

Emma plucked a cookie from her plate, broke off a piece from the top, and held it below the table's edge, the answering wetness across the tips of her fingers . . . and her palm . . . and her wrist stirring a smile to her lips. "Pray for what?"

 

"A series reprieve." Dottie took another sip of her tea, followed it up with a bite of her own cookie, and narrowed her gaze on Emma. "I have to say, dear, aside from the raccoon circles under your eyes, your incessant yawning, and the fact that you really could stand a lesson or two in ironing, you look rather content."

 

Emma's laugh echoed in the still summer air. "Um, gee . . . thanks? I think?"

 

"Mind you, I had nothing to do with your decision to leave your house without applying concealer or consulting a mirror. That's all you. However, in regard to the looking content part, you're welcome." Dottie wiped the edges of her mouth with the cloth napkin from her lap and then summoned the third member of their weekly tea party out from under the table with another cookie. "The career path I've set you on is proving quite ingenious, isn't it, dear?"

 

"If by career path you set me on you actually mean your off-the-cuff suggestion as to something I might consider as a job, yes. It seems to be working."

 

Dottie bent forward, nuzzled her nose against Emma's golden retriever, Scout, and then released the brake on her chair's wheel and rolled a few inches back from the table. "I wasn't aware that coming up with the idea of being a paid friend, pushing you to try it, and procuring your first two clients was akin to an off-the-cuff suggestion, but that's okay, I'm not looking for credit."

 

"Cue the martyr music." Grinning, Emma pushed her own chair back from the table, gathered their empty cups and plates onto the serving tray she'd set off to the side, and made her way around the table to plant a kiss on top of the woman's snow-white head. "A Friend for Hire is showing promise, yes. A lot of promise, in fact. And while I may pretend otherwise just to yank your chain a little, I'm very aware of the part you played in making it happen."

 

"The part I played?" Dottie echoed.

 

"Oh. Right. My mistake. Let me try again. I'm aware of the starring role you played." Emma left the patio just long enough to set the tray inside the kitchen for the woman's housekeeper to attend to, and then returned to the patio and her chair. "Funny thing about my new business, though. I'm becoming real friends with everyone who's hired me thus far. Which makes it a little hard to take a check from them, you know?"

 

"You didn't make friends with Mr. Hill . . ."

 

She stared at Dottie. "Brian Hill died, remember?"

 

"While you were in his employ," Dottie drawled.

 

"Gee, thanks for the reminder." Propping her elbows on the table, Emma dropped her head into her waiting hands and shuddered. "Because, you know, I have been meaning to put that little fact on my website . . . Maybe even add a testimonial from the grave or something . . ."

 

"There's no need for sarcasm, dear. It's most unbecoming."

 

Emma popped her head up and sighed. "Sorry. That whole thing still wigs me out a little. But the good stuff that's happened so far? That makes me feel a little weird sometimes, too. Just in a different way."

 

"Weird, how?" Dottie transitioned her finger scratching into more of a petting motion, much to Scout's tail-wagging delight.

 

"I don't know. I think it's what I just said. Taking money for what essentially amounts to being nice feels wrong somehow."

 

Dottie nudged her chin at Scout. "It's enabling you to keep feeding this one, right? And it's also allowing you to remain your own boss, yes?" Answering Emma's nod with a shrug, the elderly woman continued. "Besides, you've been accepting money from me for the same thing for more than eighteen months, so what's the difference?"

 

"I really wish you wouldn't go there about this." Emma spread her hands wide to indicate both the table and the teapot she'd forgotten to add to the tray. "It's about tradition more than anything else."

 

"A tradition you get paid handsomely to continue, compliments of my dear Alfred's estate, I might add."

 

"Semantics."

 

Dottie's left eyebrow arched, followed closely by her right. "Oh?"

 

"I mean, technically, yes. In the beginning I came because Alfred arranged for me to do so."

 

"And he paid you."

 

"Yes. But over time, I've come to look forward to our Tuesday afternoons because of this-the friendship we've built."

 

"A friendship for which a sizable deposit is still made into your checking account each week," Dottie mused.

 

Emma shifted in her chair. "Would you stop saying that? Please?"

 

"Why? Is that not the truth?"

 

Emma leaned back against her chair, then forward against the table, and, finally, back against the chair once again. "Yes, Alfred's attorney sends me a check for being here every Tuesday and has since Alfred passed. And yes, in the beginning, that was why I came-that, and because I knew how much you missed him. But"-Emma glanced across the table at Scout's face lying atop the armrest of Dottie's wheelchair-"so much more has come out of this than I ever imagined."

 

"Such as?"

 

"Well, for starters, Scout has become quite partial to the dog treats you slip him under the table while I'm getting the table ready each week."

 

Dottie pulled a face. "I don't know what you're talking about, dear."

 

"O-kay . . . So the whole Shhh, don't tell that always precedes the sound of Scout crunching something with his teeth while I'm making our tea is what? My imagination?" Emma rolled her eyes. "Please. You two are anything but sly."

 

"Fine. So it's the fact you get a check and I feed your dog that makes our teas valuable for you?"

 

Emma's laugh brought Scout to her side, tail wagging. "I thought you didn't feed my dog . . ."

 

"Oh, and lest we forget, these afternoon teas have also made you literate," Dottie said, plucking a crumb off her shirtsleeve.

 

"I knew how to read, Dottie."

 

"Yet you didn't."

 

"Because I was working morning, noon, and night as the travel agent I always wanted to be. And I was pretty darn good at it, I...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2022
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593334787
• ISBN 13: 9780593334782
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 288
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: preigu; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; 49078; Deutschland