"Mary Janice Davidson - Betsy 01 - Undead And Unwed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

UNDEAD AND UNWED

By Mary Janice Davidson



CHAPTER ONE
 The day I died started out bad and got worse in a hurry.

I hit my snooze alarm a few too many times and was late for work. And didn’t have time for breakfast.
Okay, that’s a lie, I gobbled a pair of chocolate Pop Tarts while waiting for the bus. My mom would
have approved (who do you think got me hooked on the darned things?), but a nutritionist would have
smacked me upside the head with her calorie counter.

At a nine a.m. meeting I found out the recession (the one the President has been denying for two years)
had hit me right between the eyes: I had been laid off. Not unexpected, but it hurt, just the same. They
had to slash costs, and god forbid any of senior management be shown the door. Nope; the clerks and
secretaries had been deemed expendable.

I cleaned out my desk, avoided the way my co-workers were avoiding looking at me (the ones left, that
is), and scuttled home.

As I walked through my front door I saw my answering machine light winking at me like a small black
dragon. The message was from my stepmonster: “Your father and I won’t be able to make it to your
party tonight…I just realized we have an earlier commitment. Sorry.” Sure you are, jerk. “Have fun
without us.” No problem. “Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight.” Translation: Maybe some poor slob will
marry you and take you off my hands. My stepmonster had, from day one, related to me in only one
way: as a rival for her new husband’s affections.

I went into the kitchen to feed my cat, and that’s when I noticed she’d run away again. Always looking
for adventure, my Giselle (although it’s more like I’m her Betsy).

I looked at the clock. My, my. Not even noon.

Happy birthday to me.

*****

As it turned out, we had a freak April snowstorm, and my party was postponed. Just as well…I didn’t
feel like going out, putting on a happy face, and drinking one too many daiquiris. The Mall of America is
a terrific place, but I’ve got to be in the mood for crowds, overpriced retail merchandise, and six dollar
drinks. Tonight I wasn’t.

Nick called around eight p.m., and that was my day’s sole bright spot. Nick Berry was a detective who
worked out of St. Paul. I’d been attacked a couple of months before, and…

Okay, well, “attacked” is putting it mildly. I don’t like to talk about it—tothink about it—but what
happened was, a bunch of creeps jumped me as I was leaving Kahn’s Mongolian Barbecue (all you can
eat for $11.95, including salad, dessert, and free refills). I have no idea what they wanted—they didn’t
take my purse or try to rape me. Basically, they clawed and bit at me like a bunch of rabid squirrels while