The Artist by Sheri Lewis Wohl

Author:Sheri Lewis Wohl [Wohl, Sheri Lewis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2022-08-01T22:29:07+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Casey decided one thing about Tula—the woman made a mean cup of coffee. She’d taken her second glorious sip when she heard a knock on the front door, followed by the sound of footsteps. She stood and let her hand drift to her gun. While she might be officially off the investigation, her duties as an officer were perpetually on. She didn’t go anywhere without her gun.

After she’d run home to shower, feed Diego, and tend to the cows, she’d returned to Tula’s ready for another demonstration of her psychic powers. She’d slept on the studio sofa again, only this time, nothing occurred. Every little creak of the house jerked her awake in anticipation. Then she’d lie there listening until she drifted off again. Not exactly a restful night. On the upside, a few hours of interrupted sleep was better than not sleeping at all, and at least no new face appeared on a canvas that she had to worry about. All in all, the night and morning proved to be nice and quiet until the knock on the door.

“Damn.” Tula’s expression darkened.

“Friend or foe?”

Tula’s expression shifted to what looked like anger, which provided a quick answer to her question.

“Shoot me next time I forget to lock the door.” She started toward the front of the house, although she didn’t get more than three steps before she stopped and blew out a long breath. “Damn it,” she muttered quietly.

A scary looking thirty-something woman blew into the kitchen, her overprocessed hair piled up on her head in an explosion of spikes. It reminded Casey of one of those cartoons where someone was shot out of a cannon. In contrast, a man followed who was as put together as she was not.

“Hey, my favorite neighbor. This girl is outta coffee, and her snobby guest is hoping you might have some premium-roast goodness we can snag. My mild grocery-store version isn’t cutting it for his highness.”

Casey was tempted to say drive down to Starbucks, and she then decided it wasn’t her place to redirect the intruders on their neighborly conversation. Besides, Tula’s expression pretty much said that she’d handle it. Looked like it might be interesting too, a little like Tula felt the same way she did. Go to Starbucks.

Tula’s smile was tight as she made introductions. “Casey, this is my neighbor, Diane, and her brother, Dante.”

“Hey to you too.” Diane glanced at Casey and gave her a perfunctory nod before her gaze zipped back to Tula. No real interest in her. Clearly Tula lay square in her crosshairs, Casey a mere inconsequential, if not inconvenient, bystander. Interesting.

Tula continued. “Diane and Dante, this is Detective Casey Wilson, from the Moses Lake Police Department.”

Now, they were getting right down to it. The emphasis on her formal title caused more of a reaction than she expected, and it meant a lot, given it usually got one. In any event, the brother, Dante, distinctly reacted. In contrast, Diane kept her eyes on Tula and didn’t appear fazed by her profession.

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