Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Conrad breathed deep. The thick fragrance of magnolia and gardenias saturated the air, more than making up for the excruciating heat. “Paradise,” he muttered.
As a gentle breeze rolled past, rattling limbs and leaves, cheerful chirps and trills reached his ears. He almost grinned. Maybe living among the dead wouldn’t be so bad.
He ascended the steps, ancient wood creaking beneath his loafers. In the corner, an old-fashioned two-person swing swayed with his motions. Nearby, a hummingbird visited a bright red feeder that hung from an awning.
He raised a fist to knock on the front door and spotted a black cat sitting gargoyle-style in the window. Framed by lacy curtains, the feline watched him intently. For some reason, Conrad felt as if his murder was being plotted in three hundred and sixty-five different ways. One for every day of the year.
Focus. He rapped his knuckles against the wood. Once. Twice.
“Hi. Hello,” a sweeter than sugar voice called. “You’re looking for me.”
He turned and found a slender brunette in a purple dress hurrying toward them and waving. Her gaze skipped over Barrow, landed on Conrad, moved away and return in a snap. She halted abruptly and looked him over from top to bottom, her expression softening. When she licked her lips, his jaw almost dropped. Was she…leering at him?
He double-blinked. She was.
Conrad nearly barked out a laugh. Never in the whole of his existence had a woman ogled him so blatantly or suggestively. Especially after using such a polite southern drawl. Just how was he supposed to respond?
He logged her details. Probably mid-twenties. Long dark hair and thick bangs bordered a delicate face boasting a fan of black lashes, pink cheeks, and red lips. A pretty package. Very pretty. Altogether, she reminded him of a frosted cupcake. The kind with sprinkles.
Surely this little slice of sweetness wasn’t the groundskeeper.
As if she sensed the direction of his thoughts, she met his gaze–punch. The air evaporated from his lungs, and tension abandoned him in a rush. In that moment, he thought he might be peering at tranquility itself. Peace oozed from her big, blue irises and washed over him.
His brow furrowed. He must be having a heat stroke. He’d never reacted to another person like this. What’s more, no one could put others at ease with a simple glance.
Could they?
Her attention shifted to somewhere over his shoulder, a range of emotions crossing over her features. From irritation to disgust, sadness, and anger. Lost in her thoughts after eating him up?
The corners of his mouth twitched. What was she even pondering? “Ma’am?” he prompted.
Lips forming a small O, she snapped into awareness. Lasering her concentration on Barrow rather than Conrad, she thrust out her hand. “I’m Jane Ladling. The owner and operator of Garden of Memories, where your loved ones rest in beauty as well as peace.” She winced, growing flustered. “Sorry. Habit.”
The company slogan? Why was Conrad fighting another laugh?
“No worries. I’m Special Agent Tim Barrow.” The seasoned agent managed to blank his features, revealing nothing of his own thoughts. Something they’d learned to do for the good of a case. “We’re told you found a body.”
“Yes.” She raised her hand, as if they were doing roll call in grade school. “That’s me. Her. I’m the finder.”
He detected no upset of any kind in her tone. Had living among the dead made her callous against the consequences of mortality?
Conrad strode down the porch, a bit too eager to close the distance. When those baby blues hit him a second time, he would swear the rest of the world vanished into the ether. Just for a second. But a second was far too long for his liking.
And was she sniffing the air in his direction?
Yes. Yes, she was.
Her cheeks flushed a deeper red. He must know what thoughts danced in this cupcake’s head.
“Ma’am,” he prompted once again. Bemused, he extended his arm. Up close, he noted the collection of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Freckles. A new favorite feature. Could she be any lovelier?
She shook his hand, unable to mask her trembles. “I’m Jane Ladling,” she repeated. “This is my place.” Goose bumps spread over her sun-kissed skin, and she forced a cough he didn’t buy for a second. “The cat is Rolex, in case you were wondering. He’s the employee of the month.”
“Rolex?” Without thought, Conrad traced his fingertips over his wristwatch. A Rolex. Once his father’s most prized possession.
“Because he’s the world’s best watch cat,” she explained. “And don’t bother trying to win him over. He’s never going to like you. Not that you want to develop a relationship with my cat.” Looking flustered again, she wrung her hands. “You want to see the dead body, I’m sure. I mean, I’m guessing he’s dead. The sheriff didn’t verify my observation, and I didn’t check for a pulse.”