than I have to.”
“You never saw any men up here with her?”
“Nope. Never saw anyone, even though I could tell they were here and had spent the night—if you know what I mean.”
Flo stood with bed linens piled high in her arms and gave Lucky a dark look. “You be careful, Lucky. For all you know this was a narrow escape. Whoever killed her wouldn’t hesitate at killing again.”
Chapter 15
W HEN LUCKY WOKE the next morning, the throbbing had stopped, but a small egg had formed on the back of her head. Wincing, she reached up and touched it gingerly. Her shoulder was bruised and stiff. She limped to the bathroom, downed two aspirin with water and made a cup of strong coffee. As soon as she felt the coffee take effect, she climbed into a hot shower and let the water run over her until her muscles loosened up.
With a towel wrapped around her, she opened the closet door and stared disconsolately at her wardrobe. It was so limited. She owned one good suit that she had worn for job interviews, a dressy black number that would never do for a casual dinner, a serviceable black wool skirt, a pair of slacks and slightly worn leather boots. The rest of her clothes were more suitable for a college frat party. She needed to get dressed for work soon, but she wanted to plan what she’d wear for her dinner that night with Elias. Was she being terribly vain to be worried about one outfit when everything around her was falling apart and a murdered woman had been found behind the Spoonful? The truth was, she wasterribly nervous about spending time with him. She couldn’t ignore the fact that his presence, even after such a long absence, still had a powerful effect on her.
She slipped out of her robe and pinned her wet hair up. She pulled several items out of the closet and tried them on. She really did need to treat herself to something new. Marjorie and Cecily had suggested she stop in at the Off Broadway. No better excuse than wanting something a little nicer to wear for a dinner invitation. She hung her robe on a closet hook, pulled on a pair of socks, underpants, warm slacks and a sweater, then rehung all the clothes in the closet, folded up the rest and placed everything back in the drawers. She had much more pressing things to deal with than worrying about one dinner date.
She opened the hallway closet where she had stacked the boxes from her parents’ house. The first was full of books she had decided to keep, and since she didn’t have a bookcase as yet, they would have to wait. She lifted that box aside and opened the next. This one held framed family photos. She unwrapped them carefully and carried her two favorites to the bedroom, placing them on top of the bureau. One was a snapshot of her parents on ice skates on a pond in the woods. They were smiling widely at the camera, her father’s ankles buckling slightly on his skates. Even though his arm was draped protectively around her mother, she was sure it was her mother holding him steady on the ice. As hard as it was dealing with their death, it was easier than imagining one of them without the other. Her father would never have been able to cope with the loss of her mother. And even though her mother may have been the stronger of the two, the joy in her eyes would have faded. Lucky kissed the photo gently and placed it on the bureau. The other photo was of Lucky and her mother at her college graduation, their arms around each other. Lucky beamed at the camera—was she ever so young only six short years ago—while her mother leaned her head gently against Lucky’s cheek. A sob rose in her chest for all the years she had taken her parents for granted.She took a deep breath to quell the grief that threatened to rise up again.
She pulled her old CD player out of the next box. It was one she had used in her bedroom all through high school and still used when she had come home for visits. Tucked in next to it were several CDs she had cherished. They probably
“You never saw any men up here with her?”
“Nope. Never saw anyone, even though I could tell they were here and had spent the night—if you know what I mean.”
Flo stood with bed linens piled high in her arms and gave Lucky a dark look. “You be careful, Lucky. For all you know this was a narrow escape. Whoever killed her wouldn’t hesitate at killing again.”
Chapter 15
W HEN LUCKY WOKE the next morning, the throbbing had stopped, but a small egg had formed on the back of her head. Wincing, she reached up and touched it gingerly. Her shoulder was bruised and stiff. She limped to the bathroom, downed two aspirin with water and made a cup of strong coffee. As soon as she felt the coffee take effect, she climbed into a hot shower and let the water run over her until her muscles loosened up.
With a towel wrapped around her, she opened the closet door and stared disconsolately at her wardrobe. It was so limited. She owned one good suit that she had worn for job interviews, a dressy black number that would never do for a casual dinner, a serviceable black wool skirt, a pair of slacks and slightly worn leather boots. The rest of her clothes were more suitable for a college frat party. She needed to get dressed for work soon, but she wanted to plan what she’d wear for her dinner that night with Elias. Was she being terribly vain to be worried about one outfit when everything around her was falling apart and a murdered woman had been found behind the Spoonful? The truth was, she wasterribly nervous about spending time with him. She couldn’t ignore the fact that his presence, even after such a long absence, still had a powerful effect on her.
She slipped out of her robe and pinned her wet hair up. She pulled several items out of the closet and tried them on. She really did need to treat herself to something new. Marjorie and Cecily had suggested she stop in at the Off Broadway. No better excuse than wanting something a little nicer to wear for a dinner invitation. She hung her robe on a closet hook, pulled on a pair of socks, underpants, warm slacks and a sweater, then rehung all the clothes in the closet, folded up the rest and placed everything back in the drawers. She had much more pressing things to deal with than worrying about one dinner date.
She opened the hallway closet where she had stacked the boxes from her parents’ house. The first was full of books she had decided to keep, and since she didn’t have a bookcase as yet, they would have to wait. She lifted that box aside and opened the next. This one held framed family photos. She unwrapped them carefully and carried her two favorites to the bedroom, placing them on top of the bureau. One was a snapshot of her parents on ice skates on a pond in the woods. They were smiling widely at the camera, her father’s ankles buckling slightly on his skates. Even though his arm was draped protectively around her mother, she was sure it was her mother holding him steady on the ice. As hard as it was dealing with their death, it was easier than imagining one of them without the other. Her father would never have been able to cope with the loss of her mother. And even though her mother may have been the stronger of the two, the joy in her eyes would have faded. Lucky kissed the photo gently and placed it on the bureau. The other photo was of Lucky and her mother at her college graduation, their arms around each other. Lucky beamed at the camera—was she ever so young only six short years ago—while her mother leaned her head gently against Lucky’s cheek. A sob rose in her chest for all the years she had taken her parents for granted.She took a deep breath to quell the grief that threatened to rise up again.
She pulled her old CD player out of the next box. It was one she had used in her bedroom all through high school and still used when she had come home for visits. Tucked in next to it were several CDs she had cherished. They probably
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