Claws of Death. Linda Reilly

Lara thought. The Saturn was still in the driveway, since Lara always walked the short distance to the coffee shop. She unlocked the door to the back porch and Kayla followed her inside.

      “Aunt Fran,” she called out.

      No answer.

      “Probably in the shower,” Lara said. “Why don’t you help yourself to some water or iced tea from the fridge, then you can get started.”

      “Thanks.” Kayla pushed at her eyeglasses. “Should I start with scooping kitty litter?”

      “That would be great. I have some references for a possible adoption I want to check out, so I’ll be in my studio. Catalina and Bitsy’s appointment is at two this afternoon. Since you’re working till four, that should give you plenty of time to get her and her kitten to and from.”

      “Even if the appointment goes past four,” Kayla said, “I don’t mind working overtime. I don’t even need to get paid.”

      “Thanks,” Lara said. “Then…I’ll leave you to it.”

      Kayla gave her a two-fingered salute and hurried off toward the kitchen.

      She’s almost too good to be true, Lara thought. Was there a catch to this wonderful new employee?

      Lara heard Aunt Fran’s soft footfalls coming down the stairs. She went over to let her know Kayla had arrived. When she saw her aunt, she had to stifle a gasp.

      Descending the stairs, Aunt Fran was wearing a filmy, navy blue tunic top Lara had never seen before over pale blue leggings. Jeweled earrings graced her delicate ears, and her hair was fluffed in waves around her slender neck. “Aunt Fran, you look, I mean…”

      “Like a woman?” Aunt Fran laughed.

      “No, I mean yes, I mean…your hair. What did you do?”

      “To my hair? I bought one of those curling wands. I wasn’t blessed with your natural curls, you know.”

      Lara wished she hadn’t been blessed with them, either. “Are you wearing blush? Your cheeks are rosy, and your eyes—”

      “Lara, I know you’re not accustomed to seeing me this way. But in spite of being your doddering old aunt, I do occasionally like to put on some decent threads.”

      Threads? Lara swallowed. Her fiftysomething aunt was anything but doddering. And she’d seen her aunt wearing makeup before, plenty of times. But this was different—it was far more enhanced, more elegant.

      “It so happens Jerry and I are having lunch today at the new winery. We made the reservation some time ago. They’re very hard to get.”

      Lunch? With the chief of police? With a murderer running loose?

      “I can read your mind, Lara. Don’t worry. We’re making it a quick lunch. Jerry is entitled to sustenance, you know. It doesn’t detract from his duties.”

      If there’d been any doubt about her aunt’s interest in the chief, they’d been dispatched like petals in a stiff summer breeze.

      “You can handle things here,” Aunt Fran went on. “You always do. Was that Kayla’s voice I heard?”

      “It was. She got here early.”

      “Excellent. I’ll be back by mid-afternoon. Call my cell or text me if anything comes up.”

      “Uh, sure thing, Aunt Fran. Have a great time. Give the chief my regards.”

      Less than a year ago, her aunt didn’t even have a cell phone. Now she kept it with her at all times, checking the shelter’s Facebook page frequently. She also seemed to text a lot. Lara could only guess who she was texting.

      I’ve created a monster, Lara thought, then laughed out loud. It was a monster she wouldn’t change for anything in the world.