An Appointment With Murder

103 Pages·2011·0.57 MB·English

by  Jennings Jennifer L

An Appointment With Murder
by
Jennifer L. Jennings

Copyright © 2011 by Query Publishing, LLC
An Appointment With Murder is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Query
Publishing, LLC.
Cover art by Jennifer L. Jennings

Edited by John Simon, Portsmouth, NH
This book is dedicated to Mamasita for always believing in me.
7 p.m., Friday, November 5

I double-checked my massage room. Everything seemed ready. The lights
were dimmed, sheets warm, Native American flutes softly playing on the stereo.
“Hey, Sarah,” Beth said, looking up from the appointment book on her desk,
“Jeff called and said he’s running a few minutes late.”
Jeff Gardner was to be my last client of the day.
“That’s fine,” I replied. “By the way, thanks for staying late. I hope your
fiancée won’t be too upset with me for keeping you here on a Friday night.”
It had been six weeks since I’d hired Beth Stevens as my receptionist. She
helped manage the office, took phone calls, scheduled clients, dealt with
insurance companies, and, most important to me personally, intercepted the
“undesirables,” the guys who’d call looking for a “full body treatment,” which
was code for a hand job.
“No problem. I think Jacob had other plans tonight anyway.” Beth’s
strawberry blonde hair was styled in a cute bob that accentuated her dimples
when she smiled. Only twenty-six, she seemed wise beyond her years.
“How’s Jacob doing with the wedding plans?” I asked, yawning and glancing
at my watch.
“Oh,” she flicked a strand of hair behind her ear, “he’s leaving most of the
details to me. You know, men usually can’t be bothered with color schemes or
flower arrangements. If he had his way, we’d be getting married by an Elvis
impersonator at some dive in Vegas.” She smiled as she held up the pink cell
phone displaying a photo of a wedding dress.
“Gorgeous,” I said. “Is that the one you’re getting?”
“Yep. Put a deposit on it yesterday. Isn’t it just perfect?”
“I‘m sure you’ll look dazzling, Beth. Has Jacob seen it yet?”
“No way. That would be bad luck.” She slid the cell phone into her purse.
“Oh, by the way,” I added, “Daniel will be out of town on business so won’t
be able to come with me to the wedding. I’ll bring Brian as my date if that’s
okay.”
“Of course it’s okay. Your son’s a doll. But tell your husband he’s going to