Alibis and Amethysts Read Free Page A

never owned a dog before, but with
     her usual “how hard could it be?” philosophy, she’d agreed. Within a week she was
     completely besotted with him. Unfortunately, it took Frosty the better part of a month
     to accept his new housemate. He ran away five times, soiled the rugs, couch and linens
     with every orifice he had, and even went on a hunger strike, although that had only
     lasted for one day.
    As soon as they arrived at Sierra’s house, she let Frosty out in the backyard to attend
     to doggie matters while she started the coffee. He hadn’t been outside long when he
     started barking full throttle as if he’d been ambushed by a band of starving zombies
     with a yen for dog stew.
    “Could you go see what’s got him in such an uproar?” Sierra asked as she measured
     the grounds into the filter. “I’m afraid one day he’s going to corner a snake or a
     coyote back there. He doesn’t seem to realize when he’s outmatched.”
    “But I certainly do,” Jaye said, stopping with her hand on the doorknob. “Exactly
     how many snakes and coyotes have visited since you moved in here?”
    “None, or at least none that Frosty or I have seen. If you’re worried, turn on the
     outside lights. There’s also a flashlight in the pantry.”
    Flashlight in hand, Jaye switched on the lights and headed out the back door. The
     elderly woman who’d lived there for three decades before Sierra had let the property
     return to its natural state of high desert scrub. When Sierra had still been riding
     her home-buying high, she’d talked at length about whipping the land into shape, buying
     some ornamental plants and maybe even seeding for grass. But getting her bakery up
     and running while she was teaching herself the art of baking had barely left her with
     time to breathe.
    Since the backyard wasn’t large, it was immediately obvious that Frosty had to be
     somewhere else. His barking had taken on a hysterical, high-pitched quality. Jaye
     tried calling his name, but when he didn’t appear she followed his barking around
     to the left. Whoever had installed the outdoor lighting had clearly not anticipated
     a need for it on the side of the house, so she had to rely completely on the old flashlight’s
     narrow amber beam. She found Frosty frozen in place in the darkness, still issuing
     the doggie equivalent of a call to arms. Jaye couldn’t see any reason for his distress
     until she used the flashlight to follow his line of sight. She gave a startled yelp
     of surprise when the beam revealed what appeared to be a woman sprawled facedown on
     the ground a good twelve feet away.
    It took Jaye only a moment to throttle down from her initial shock and shift gears
     into action. She moved forward cautiously, half expecting the woman to jump up and
     apologize for stopping there to take a nap. But the woman didn’t move. Frosty’s barking
     had ebbed to a breathless chuffing now that he’d done his job and summoned the troops,
     but he kept his distance, clearly not interested in accompanying Jaye on a closer
     inspection.
    When Jaye was at the woman’s side, she ran the beam of light down the length of her
     body and noticed that her limbs were splayed at odd angles like a rag doll flung aside
     by a child who’d moved on to other toys. She considered the possible reasons why a
     person might be lying there. There weren’t many. Either the woman was a victim of
     foul play or she’d been felled by a stroke, a heart attack, or some other fatal condition.
     Or maybe she wasn’t dead at all. Fighting a sudden case of squeamishness, Jaye managed
     to hunker down and check for a pulse in her neck. It was only then, with the flashlight
     so close to the woman’s head, that she realized her dark hair was thoroughly matted
     with blood.

Chapter 2
    “Oh, my God!” Sierra screamed, her hand flying to her mouth as if to keep other, more
     disturbing words from escaping. When several minutes had passed without