Page 44 of The Rainbow Recipe
Because I wanted to see you in action, Evie thought. Well, and see what KK might do, but the ghost didn’t even seem to notice the meeting.
Rhonda crossed her arms. “If you don’t like it, I can find someone else.”
Evie doubted that, but it shut up Lawless Lawson, who stayed shut up, waiting, glancing around with nervous curiosity. The shaggy-haired blogger was an odd bird, not working hard at earning her information. Evie had the uneasy notion Jane was up to something. Her aura reflected a high level of stress and bitterness to go with a shade of dishonest intentions.
“I only agreed to meet you because a tipster suggested you might be interested. I have no idea what this information means.” Rhonda produced the envelope from her jacket pocket.
Finally showing some initiative, Jane reached for it. “Any idea who the tipster might be?”
“Someone who said they wanted the boutique to succeed. There’s a bank name on there. I thought it might be a list of Katherine’s transfers from the shop account to her own.”
Jane studied the paper. “She was sneaky that way?”
Evie could almost see the war between Rhonda’s need to dump her grievances and her desire to protect the company she was invested in. The yellowish gold in her third chakra probably didn’t reflect the aura of a killer, just someone struggling for control or respect. Still, Evie acknowledged she needed an open mind. She was new at this detecting business.
The ghost’s aura brightened, if anger and resentment counted as brighter. KK buzzed about a little faster, but there was little in here a ghost could disturb. Evie really needed to figure out how to communicate with her.
“I didn’t know Katherine well,” Rhonda admitted. “Those sums are too large for just this shop though.”
“But it might explain why this dump never got finished.” Jane shoved the list in one of the many pockets of her camouflage vest. “Payoffs to our tacky Mayor Ward, I bet.”
“To an Italian bank?” Rhonda’s nose tilted upward in disdain.
“Not a big leap for the mayoral toad. Italian fashion and all that. Makes sense to me.”
Ah, the bigot will out. Evie rolled her eyes.
“Makes life simpler,” Reuben murmured in her earbud, as if reading her thoughts. “Gay. Fashion. Italian. Fascist. Bad.”
She almost snorted, except she was afraid Rube was right. Jane wasn’t the brightest bulb and simple thought patterns probably appealed.
“Katherine and the Gladwells are British,” Rhonda said in a contemptuous tone easy to produce with her rounded vowels and plummy accent. “Only Lucia is Italian.”
“Huh. Now there’s a clue. Has anyone ever seen Lucia? Do you even know what she looks like?” Nervously pacing, Jane wiped her finger over the filthy counter. “Maybe she’s hiding right here in plain sight.”
KK vanished into the kitchen. Normally, Evie didn’t have difficulty focusing on three things at once, but the conversation seemed more important. She ignored the ghost.
“Lucia is in all the commercials,” Rhonda reminded her. “Everyone knows what she looks like. There is no way she could have killed Katherine. She wasn’t even in the country.”
“But she could be siphoning off funds,” the blogger pointed out. “No idea where your tipster got this info?”
“None, whatsoever,” Rhonda said stiffly. Evie guessed a controlling personality didn’t like admitting not knowing it all.
“Well, you have more access to financial records than I do. Rustle some up, and I’ll see what I can do. Otherwise, all I can do is stir the cauldron.”
“You want me to turn over confidential records?” Evie thought Rhonda’s aura seemed more intrigued than appalled, but that was just her biased interpretation.
She didn’t like Rhonda much more than KK did. Darting out of the kitchen, the ghost toppled one of the trash bags near the shop door. Their not-so-friendly spirit had actually become agitated. Huh, another point to ponder.
Jane jerked nervously at the thump of the falling bag and eased toward the back door. Rhonda was still too wound up to pay the trash any attention.
“Nick Gladwell coming up the alley,” Reuben whispered in Evie’s earbud. “He’s not looking happy.”
Well, make that all of them. “I’m not learning a thing,” she whispered back.
Showing more animation than she ever had, KK flung herself back and forth across the ceiling. Evie wished the damned apparition would speak.
Outside the cabinet, the demented blogger sneered as she eased toward the exit. “If you wanna move on up, you have to get those pretty fingernails grubby. I’ll be in touch.” Saluting, Jane spun on her army boots and shoved through the swinging door to the kitchen.
