

### Murder Under Construction

### Two Sisters and a Journalist #1

### by Maddie Cochere

Copyright 2014 by Maddie Cochere

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions therof in any form whatsoever except as provided by US copyright law.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Breezy Books  
http://www.breezybooks.com/

Cover design by Gillian Soltis of Columbus, Ohio

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

I swear that body was hard as a rock when my butt bounced off it. There was going to be a bruise for sure.

"Aunt Jo! Aunt Jo!"

The distant voices were fraught with concern.

I sat up and brushed dirt from my arms and legs before turning my attention to the body. She was most certainly dead with a knife buried to the hilt in her chest. I would have to call the police, but I needed to get the kids out of the area first. I didn't want them coming over the mound of dirt and seeing the naked girl.

You might wonder why I didn't scream or why I was so calm in the face of a dead body. Two years ago, I would have freaked out enough to win an Oscar for my performance, but any outward burst from me now would be from finding yet another body. This was the second one this year.

How could that be, you ask? I don't have a clue. Most people never find a dead body in their lifetime, but the body-finding gods had bestowed a total of five upon me with this girl today. The Buxley police weren't going to find this amusing.

I picked up the bicycle and half pushed, half dragged it back up the mound of dirt. My niece and nephew, Kelly and Keith, were only a few yards away. Three of their friends were waiting for them at the edge of the construction site near the first mound of dirt.

"I'm ok," I yelled to the kids. "Go on back."

I hopped on the bike and pedaled down the mound. I wanted to be sure to have enough speed before hitting the second one. The kids were running full tilt, but I quickly overtook them on the bike.

I flew over the last mound and slammed on the brakes. The rear tire fishtailed in loose dirt and gravel. I flopped the bike again. The waiting friends all doubled over with laughter. It was hard to be mad at them for laughing. I'm sure it did look funny to see a nearly two-hundred-pound woman flop a bike.

"Aunt Jo, are you all right?" Kelly asked, breathless from running. She reached down to give me a hand. Keith rushed to grab my other arm.

"Pretty much," I said as I inspected my legs. Bouncing off the dead body had broken my fall the first time, but this flop had given me a bloody knee. "Your mother is going to kill me though. I told her I'd send the two of you right home. Your dad will be home in a couple of hours, and she wants you to get cleaned up and help with dinner."

"That was one of the funniest things I've ever seen," said one of the friends, still laughing. "What happened to you when you went over the last hill? We saw you take air, and then you disappeared."

"It was an even better flop than this one," I said as I rubbed my backside.

They all thought that was hilarious.

"Go on," I said, pretending to scold them. "Get your bikes and get out of here. This is private property, and you shouldn't be here anyway." I turned to Kelly and said, "Tell your mom I'll talk to her tomorrow."

All five of the kids hopped on their bikes and rode off. They had been messing around the edge of the construction site when I arrived. Keith wanted to show off by riding over the first mound of dirt a few times, and when I said it looked like fun, he offered his bike to me to give it a try. Wanting to live up to my reputation as the cool aunt, I grabbed the bike and rode off.

I was a little wobbly over the first mound, but I kept going to the second, much larger mound, where I sailed over like a pro. I had good speed when I reached the third but realized I was in trouble when I shot up straighter and higher than anticipated. There was no way I could make a safe landing by coming down at that angle.

The bike crashed beside the body. I fell hard with my butt landing on her before rolling off into the dirt on the other side.

I sighed now as I reached into the pocket of my shorts for my cell phone. Dirt had made its way into my underwear, but I wasn't going to attempt to shake it out here. An entire row of ranch-style houses bordered this end of the soon-to-be office complex, and anyone could be watching from a kitchen window.

I dialed the Buxley Police Department. Sergeant Rorski wouldn't be happy to hear I was calling, but I asked to speak to him anyway and soon heard his gruff voice.

"Rorski."

He sounded irritated and tired. I almost hung up when a little voice inside my head encouraged me to _let someone else find the body_.

"Sergeant Rorski, this is Jo Ravens. I-"

He cut me off.

"Jo Ravens, huh? You know the population in this town is only five thousand, four hundred, and twenty-six. Buxley is not the murder capital of the world. You better be calling me with a domestic complaint or a missing dog."

"Sorry, Sergeant," I told him. "She's got a knife in her, and she's out in the open, so you're going to want to hurry."

I gave him the location of the body. Rather than thank me, he grunted into the phone and hung up. It would be a few minutes before he arrived, and as much as I wanted to go home and shake the dirt out of my underwear, I wanted to check out the body more.

I headed back past the dirt mounds. They had been here for several months. Trees had been cleared from the property and the land partially graded, but work stopped as fast as it had started, and the large plot of land sat empty. Doctors, insurance agents, lawyers, and the like were going to have to wait for their new offices.

It had only taken a minute to reach the body on the bike, but it was going to take a few more on foot.

I shook my head. The odds of my finding another murder victim were astronomical. Mama always said I was lucky, because I was a Sagittarius, but if this was lucky, I would gladly trade places with a Capricorn.

Questions ran through my mind. Who was she? What was her story? Who murdered her? The husband? A co-worker? A stranger? My spine tingled at the thought of finding out.

I picked up the pace to a half jog. Rounding the third mound of dirt, I stopped to catch my breath. My heart was pounding, and my clothes were wet from sweat. I was worried the dirt in my underwear would turn to mud. I hated running. It used to be fun, but that was sixty pounds ago.

A siren sounded in the distance. I would have to hurry if I wanted to garner any clues to her death. I moved closer to the body. She was covered with loose dirt. Whoever killed her hadn't intended to bury her. There were no footprints, but it was easy to see where the bike had crashed and where the dirt across her body had been disturbed when I bounced over.

Uh-oh. My heart began to beat triple time. The knife was at an angle in her chest. The pain I felt when I fell on the body must have been my butt hitting the knife. Sergeant Rorski was definitely not going to be happy when he saw this. I wanted to push it back the other way and throw more dirt on the body, but I knew if I touched anything, I would only make things worse.

The sound of the siren stopped. The sergeant would be here within minutes. I focused on the girl.

She appeared to be mid-twenties. The exceptional toning of her body gave the impression she exercised regularly or may have been an athlete. Her coal black hair fanned out around her as though it had been styled for a photo. Her eyes were closed. This was different. With all the other bodies I had found, the eyes were open.

I checked for a wedding ring but noticed she wasn't wearing any jewelry. I leaned over to look more closely at her face and ears. She definitely had pierced ears, but I couldn't be sure if the mark on the side of her nose was a piercing or not. Maybe this was a robbery gone bad. Her fingernails and toenails appeared to be professionally manicured. Each nail was a peach color with tangerine tips. Gold glitter covered the line where the two colors met. I pulled my phone out of my pocket again and snapped a picture of her left hand.

"Get away from that body!"

I looked up to see Sergeant Rorski and two of his officers approaching fast.

"I haven't touched anything," I yelled over to him.

"Just step back," he bellowed.

I took a few steps back and watched as the three men took their first look at the girl.

"Well, there's no question it's a murder," said one of the officers.

The sergeant grunted.

"There was obviously a struggle," the second officer said as he pointed to the disturbed dirt.

"That would explain the angle of the knife," said the first.

Should I say something? My sweating turned up a notch. The dirt in my underwear was intolerable now. It was settling into places where it ought not be, and I needed to scratch.

The Sergeant faced me. "How'd you find the body?"

"Pepper's kids were horsing around at the edge of the site, and Keith was riding his bike over the first dirt mound back there. I gave it a try, and when I went over the first, I kept on going until I came over this one."

The sergeant looked at the tall mound. "You rode a bike over that?" he asked incredulously.

"I worked up a lot of speed," I said.

His face turned red as he pointed to the area of disturbed dirt and barked, "Is this you?"

I nodded.

He clenched his teeth and muttered, "What happened?"

I took a deep breath before saying rapidly, "I came over the hill really fast, but instead of going forward, I kind of went upward and ended up crashing. It was a hard landing, and I sort of fell on her."

If smoke could come out of ears, it would have poured out of his. One of the officers snickered and grinned from ear to ear. The other had his hand on his gun while giving me the evil eye and the impression he was moments away from arresting me.

I pointed to the scuffed dirt. "That's where I crashed, and over there is where I ended up after I sort of bounced over her." I braced myself for what I knew was coming.

At a level of which I'm sure everyone in the nearby subdivision could hear, he yelled, "You bounced across this body? Is that knife crooked because of you?"

I was worried he might have a stroke. "I suppose it could be," I said contritely. "I didn't see its original position, so it might have been like that before I went over."

Movement to my right caught my eye, and I saw Howard Sanders, the town coroner, rushing toward us. Behind him was a man with a camera, but I didn't recognize him as the official police photographer. Medical workers followed.

"Jo Ravens," Howard said. "Why am I not surprised to see you here?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'm sure you have this figured out already. Make my job easier and tell me how she died."

"She was stabbed," I said dryly.

Howard and I weren't on the friendliest of terms. He thought I was a meddler and had no business sticking my nose in police matters.

The photographer had already taken several pictures when I saw a flash of bright red hair in the distance behind him. Jackie Ryder was hurrying toward us from the far side of the dirt mound. Jackie was the star reporter for the local newspaper, The Buxley Beacon. There were actually only two reporters for the newspaper, but Jackie wrote circles around that slug, Doug Preston.

She sidled up to the photographer and whispered something into his ear. He immediately turned around and rushed from the area.

Sergeant Rorski's face elevated to beet red. I was certain the man wasn't going to live much longer.

"Ryder! Those photos better not show up online," he blustered. "I don't want to see them anywhere until we find out who she is and notify the family."

Jackie saluted the sergeant before inspecting the body as she made her way over to stand beside me.

"What happened here?" she asked. "And how did you get so dirty?"

"I don't know what happened here," I said. "And I was riding Keith's bike over the dirt mounds when I landed on her. Score another one for me."

She smiled. It was a huge smile, and I knew she found my situation humorous. "I'll see if I can get some information from Howard after he gets her to the morgue. A peach pie ought to do the trick."

Howard liked Jackie, and he would tell her anything when she supplied him with pies. She was an accomplished baker and had worked for a few years in an upscale restaurant in Cincinnati. Five years ago, she married her high school sweetheart, Matt, and moved back to Buxley. Rather than flip pancakes at the local waffle shop, she made use of her journalism major and landed a job with the town newspaper.

"Speaking of pie," I said in a low voice. "What kind are you bringing on Tuesday?"

"I'm not bringing pie. Pepper asked me to make macaroni salad and deviled eggs. She said you were making desserts."

This was news to me. I had been at Pepper's earlier in the day and she hadn't said a word about the food for the cookout. I wasn't a cook or a baker. When I was married, my husband and I had always eaten out or he cooked our meals. Why my sister thought I was capable of bringing desserts was beyond me. I was usually on tap for potato chips and beer on the Fourth of July.

"Matt's driving over to Pennsylvania later today to get fireworks," Jackie said. "It should be a good show this year."

Sergeant Rorski spun around to face us, and for a moment, I thought he overheard us talking about the fireworks.

"Jo," he roared. "Downtown. I need your statement."

"Sarge, I need a shower," I protested. "I've got dirt in my underwear. Can I do it tomorrow?"

He faced the officer who was still grinning. "Take her to the station and get her statement. Don't let her leave until she signs everything. I don't want to see her again."

I knew arguing with him was useless, and I dutifully walked behind the officer. I took a quick glance back at Jackie. She put her hand up in a telephone gesture and mouthed, "I'll call you."

~ ~ ~

Two hours. It took a freaking two hours for the officer to have me write my statement. The actual statement writing only took five minutes, but the twit put me in a room with no paper or writing utensils. Every time I stuck my head out the door to ask about the needed supplies, the officer on duty yelled at me to _get back in there_. Officer Twit finally came back with a pen and paper, but he disappeared again for another forty-five minutes before bringing papers for me to sign. His official papers turned out to be one slip of paper proclaiming that I promised to cross my heart and hoped to die in a cellar full of rats if the statement I wrote wasn't true. We then had a disagreement over how I would get home.

"It's not up to me to take you," he said.

"But you brought me here, and I can't walk home. Why should I bother family at dinnertime? Give me a ride. It'll take you five minutes."

He smiled the entire time he argued with me. What was up with all the grinning? I didn't let up until he gave in and led me to his cruiser.

It was ten minutes later when we pulled into a cul-de-sac on the south side of town. There were four well-manicured, two-story homes on the circular knob at the end of Clark Street. Officer Twit pulled into the first driveway on the right.

I jumped out and ran to the house. He may or may not have heard the thank you I threw over my shoulder as I ran, but now that the house was in sight, I was desperate to get my clothes off and jump in the shower.

The front door was unlocked, but that didn't surprise me. I had left it unlocked earlier in the day when I walked across the cul-de-sac after lunch to chat with Pepper about the upcoming holiday and cookout. She was rolling out cookie dough, and the flour was flying. She had it on both arms, her shirt, and in her hair. I sat on a stool at the counter and watched her make moon-shaped cookies filled with a walnut and sugar mixture. She dusted them with confectioners sugar while still warm. They were melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Between the two of us, we ate nearly as many as she set aside for the holiday.

My sister Pepper was thirty-five and older than I was by three years, but I was taller by three inches. We were both born with dark brown hair and green eyes, but two years ago, she made the decision to become a blonde. Her desire for her hair to look rock 'n' roll spiked had fallen flat and most days her hair stuck out in all directions. The blonde color had eventually evolved to a canary-yellow hue. As odd as the overall style and color was, it was peculiarly adorable on her.

Pepper had been overweight her entire life, while I had always been thin. It wasn't until I suspected my husband Alan of cheating on me that I began gaining weight. He complained about my weight gain after five pounds, and by the time I had achieved a twenty-pound gain, we were in divorce court. Two weeks after the divorce was final, he moved in with his twenty-four-year-old girlfriend, a coffeehouse barista.

Anger set in, followed by depression, and I spent far too much time eating at Pepper's. That was two years ago, and after watching Alan remarry, receive a promotion, and move into a gorgeous new home in a beautiful subdivision, I continued to comfort myself with food. Pepper recently crossed the two-hundred pound mark, and I was right behind her at one ninety. I was flabbergasted I had gained sixty pounds in two years. More and more I realized my weight directly affected my self-esteem, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt helpless to get my eating under control.

Now, hours later, I was mildly annoyed with myself for eating so many cookies, but I smiled remembering how good they were as I dashed through my doorway and slammed the front door behind me. In a flash, I had my shorts and underwear off and whipped my shirt over my head. I reached around to unhook my bra, but a strange feeling I wasn't alone swept over me.

I glanced over to the dining room doorway and saw a tall man peering around the corner. He was watching me through thick, horn-rimmed glasses.

My scream was bloodcurdling. I wanted to stop screaming, but the ear-splitting noise continued. I finally thought to grab a pillow from the sofa and hold it in front of my crotch. Mercifully, the screaming subsided. Strange, feeble, unhappy sounds replaced it.

I finally found my voice. "Stewie! What the blazing devils are you doing in my house?"

Before he could answer, Pepper's husband, Buck, burst through the front door and was greeted with a perfect view of my big, naked butt.

Buck is super cute, and although I've known him since we were all kids, it killed me to have him see my behind. He had seen me naked once before when I was nineteen, but he always said it was purely accidental when he walked in on me while I was changing into my swimsuit. His eyes twinkled and crinkled on that day. They weren't twinkling now.

I grabbed another pillow to hold against my backside.

"What the bloody hobbit is going on in here?" he yelled. "We thought you were being murdered. Even the hair on the cat stood up."

I was completely mortified, and at the moment, I hated them both.

"I thought we had a date," Stewie said nonchalantly. "The door was open. I figured you were upstairs, and you'd be down in a minute."

A date! I had forgotten, but it wasn't a date. It was maybe going out for ice cream.

"Everything's ok, Buck," I said. "I didn't know Stewie was here, and he scared the sh-." I caught myself and said instead, "He scared the beejees out of me."

The twinkle was back in his eye. "Well, I'd say you look like you're ready to get this date started, so I'll just head on back over to my place and let you two get to it."

I glared at him as he went out the door, but I held my tongue. I was done. I was hot, dirty, and I was pretty sure my deodorant gave out with the scream. If Stewie hadn't still been standing there staring at me, I would have lifted my arm to do a smell check.

"Stewie, I-"

He interrupted before I could finish my thought. "Jo, please. Don't call me Stewie. Only my mother has ever called me Stewie, and it embarrasses me. Call me Stewart."

"Stewart. Stewart." I tried the name out a couple of times. It didn't work. I yelled at him, "Why didn't you tell me that forever ago, before I started calling you Stewie?" I didn't even know if I liked him well enough to date him, and he was exasperating me now. " _Stewart_ , there's no way I'm in the mood for ice cream tonight. I'll see you at work next Wednesday, _Stewart_."

"Pepper invited me to her Fourth of July party on Tuesday," he said. "I'll see you then."

I sighed.

"Just make sure you bring plenty of potato chips and beer."

Chapter Two

The hot shower felt wonderful. It took some extra scrubbing to get the dried blood off my knee, but other than a superficial scrape, it was fine. Dirt had rubbed for so long in my underwear, I had chafing where I'd never chafed before. A handful of medicated powder felt soothing, and as long as I didn't get overworked and start sweating again, there was no danger of making paste. My long, silky hair was my best feature these days, and I was letting it air dry, which would create soft waves near the evenly trimmed bottom.

I reached for another barbecued rib from the plain white box in front of me on the coffee table. It had been delivered from Smitty's a few minutes ago.

Smitty's was a dirty, hole-in-the wall bar, frequented by only the most serious of drinkers. A little-known fact was that they had the best beef ribs in the state. After plying Smitty with pies, Jackie and I managed to obtain delivery privileges, but the driver's tip was always a non-negotiable twenty-dollar bill. After everything I had been through today, the tip was money well spent.

It was eight o'clock, and I hadn't had anything to eat since noon. I inhaled the half dozen beefy ribs and washed them down with a cold beer. With no one in the house, I indulged in a few loud belches to alleviate the stuffed feeling.

I was allowing myself to pig out until after the Fourth. Pepper and I were going to get serious about losing weight, but until then, I wasn't going to feel guilty about eating anything.

I leaned back on the couch, put my feet up on the coffee table, and started laughing. What in the world went through Stewie's mind when he saw me tearing off my clothes? What did Buck think when he saw my backside?

My laughter ratcheted up to slightly hysterical. Stewie probably wouldn't tell anyone about it, but Buck was going to be spreading this all over the country. He was a long haul driver and only home every other weekend. He'd be back out on the road again on Wednesday with more tales to tell. His sister-in-law stories were legendary, and now he was going to have a new murder tale and a nearly-naked tale to add to his repertoire. I was going to be famous one day because of Buck.

Just as my laughter was subsiding, and I was debating about crying over the fiasco, the red phone rang.

The red phone is my prized thrift shop find. I didn't know anyone who still had a home phone plugged into a wall jack, but I had one, and it had a secret telephone number known only to Pepper and Jackie. We usually chatted on our cell phones, but when there was something big afoot, the girls called me on the red phone. It was all very clandestine.

The phone sat on an antique wooden telephone stand next to my second favorite find – a large, overstuffed chair with a small refrigerator unit in the side.

I jumped cross-legged into the chair, reached for another bottle of beer, and answered the telephone, "Hello?"

"What are you doing?" Jackie asked.

"I just finished shoveling ribs into my piehole, and now I'm drinking a beer. What have you got?"

"Howard was happy with the peach pie, and he gave me some information, but I have to take two more pies to him later this week if I want to hear about anything else he finds. He's a greedy mother f-"

I cut her off. "Jackie, help me out here. I told you I promised Pepper I'd quit swearing, and if you keep dropping f-bombs, I'll never be able to stop. Kelly is ten now, and Keith is eight, and she says it's our fault her kids are swearing. I know full well they hear it every day when they're with their friends, but I still promised her I'd knock it off."

I heard a muffled laugh before she asked, "Is that why you keep coming up with absurd expletives? When you dropped that bottle on your foot last week and yelled hockeysnots, I thought you'd lost your mind."

"I know," I said. "If I could come up with one word that has some real punch, it would be easier, but I've got nothin', so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Buck's choices are just as bad, and I think all we're doing is entertaining the kids while they swear up a storm with their friends behind our backs."

I heard her laugh. "Well then, Howard is a son-of-a-mooch, because I don't know when I'm going to have time to bake more pies."

"Buy 'em at the bakery," I suggested.

"Jo Ravens, you're talking sacrilege! There isn't any comparison between that dumpy bakery and my pies. Besides, Howard would know in a heartbeat, and I can't risk losing him as a source."

"I'll help you make the pies," I said. I knew she would never take me up on the offer. "What did you find out from him?"

"It's complicated. They were able to get a name based on her prints, but it's not her real name."

I didn't know if she paused for effect or not. "What? What name did he tell you?"

"Ruby."

"Ruby?"

"Yep. Ruby Rosewell. She was a stripper in Pittsburgh. They picked her up a few times for prostitution, and every time they booked her, she gave the same name and swore she was born with it."

"If she's from Pittsburgh, how did she end up in Buxley, Ohio?" I asked.

"No one knows, but our little town is gaining a reputation for murder, so it probably seemed like a good dumping ground to someone. The police are positive she was murdered somewhere else and moved to the construction site. My money is on her pimp. If they find him, I think this could be solved quickly."

"Do you have a time of death yet?"

"Howard said she'd been dead about eleven hours when he first checked her over, so that puts the murder around five a.m."

"Did you get anything else?"

"Nope. Not yet. Do you want copies of the pictures?"

"I sure do," I said enthusiastically. "Just don't let Sergeant Rorski know I have them. I don't want him to know I'm interested in this one, or he'll stroke out for sure."

I heard her laugh again. "I'll send them to your email. If you and Pepper decide to go snooping around, let me know."

~ ~ ~

My dreams are usually the stuff movies are made of. I dream in color, the characters are always fun and interesting, and if I can hold onto a dream long enough in the morning to remember it, I'm always entertained by what my mind came up with yet again.

Still in that place between sleep and coming fully awake, I realized the dead girl from yesterday had made her way into my dream. I was in a strip club looking for a pimp. I scanned the crowd before zeroing in on the stage. The scene quickly mesmerized me. Five wholly naked girls were either writhing in front of leering men or making obscene movements on poles. I hadn't seen this much female nudity since the locker room after gym class in junior high school, and nobody had big boobs like these back then.

Curtains at the back of the stage parted, and the dead girl strutted out. She was fully clothed in black leather and carried a long black whip. The other girls appeared fearful and scattered into the audience. She struck several of the men with her whip as she pranced the outer edges of the stage. It became eerily quiet in the room. She stopped in front of me. The black of her eyes matched her hair, and her stare bored into me. I couldn't turn away. I knew she wanted me to come onstage. The next thing I knew, I was naked and twirling around the stripper pole. I was horrified my fat was hanging out for everyone to see. The patrons began booing. I tried to dip and writhe, but lost my hold on the pole and fell to the floor with a splat sound. The boos became a roar. The dead girl cracked her whip. The room became silent again. She leaned down and whispered to me, "Paula. My name is Paula."

My eyes flew open. I wasn't naked, and I wasn't in a strip club, but I was sweating profusely. I threw the bedding back and sat on the edge of the bed. That was _not_ a good dream. That was a porno flick, and it was unsettling. And why was I so hot?

I slipped my feet into fuzzy orange slippers and grabbed my robe. I went downstairs to the kitchen and checked the thermostat. Eighty degrees. The air conditioning wasn't working.

The clock on the stove blinked twelve o'clock. The power had gone out during the night. I had no idea what time it was, but it didn't matter. It was Sunday, and I didn't have any plans.

I slipped the robe on over the long t-shirt I wore to bed before walking out the front door into even more heat with an abundance of humidity. It was going to be another scorcher today. I didn't mind the heat, but I did mind the humidity, and it seemed much worse with the extra weight I was carrying.

My newspaper wasn't on the porch. I spotted it near the end of the driveway and shuffled my way down to it.

"Did you have a good time last night?"

I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun and squinted across to Pepper's house. Buck was piling fresh mulch into flower beds. He was standing in one of the beds with his hands on his hips and a grin plastered across his face.

I continued shuffling and made my way over to him.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I had a wonderful time last night. I spent it with a box of ribs and a couple of beers."

"What happened to your date?"

"He wasn't my date. He wants to go out, but I keep saying no. He's a co-worker. He's nice enough, but he's kind of odd."

"I liked the last guy. Edward. What was wrong with him?"

Just thinking about Edward made me cringe. "For starters, he was too loud no matter where we went, and the constant phone calls from his ex-wife made me want to kill him and her both."

Keith came out the front door with a gym bag in hand. Kelly followed with a small suitcase. Pepper brought up the rear.

"Where are you guys going?" I asked.

Keith screwed his face into a pout and said, "Mom's making us spend two whole days with Grandmama, so she can get ready for the cookout."

"I don't want to go," Kelly grumbled. "Why can't I stay here and help you?"

"Because I don't want your brother to have to deal with your grandmama by himself. You go and help him."

"But she smells," Keith said, mimicking Kelly's tone.

"She smells because she chain smokes," Pepper said. "Play outside as much as possible and be nice to her."

"Let your grandmama be a lesson to you," I said. "If you don't want to grow up to smell like she does, don't smoke."

"She's a toothless wonder," Keith said.

"All right. That's enough," Buck admonished. "Your grandmama loves you, and you kids will have a good time if you let yourselves. Go on. Get in the car."

Buck looked over and winked at me. He was first to use the phrase about Mama being a toothless wonder, and it was his fault the kids used it now. She rarely wore her false teeth, and when she did, she thought it was funny to stick them out at the kids. Doing so had only served to scare Kelly half to death when she was little, and for weeks after, we couldn't stop her from looking in the mirror to see if her teeth were falling out.

"Why in the world aren't you dressed yet?" Pepper asked. "It's almost noon."

"I don't know. Yesterday wore me out, and I slept in." I turned to Buck. "My power was out during the night, and now my air doesn't work. Will you take a quick look?"

"Let me wash up and I'll be right over."

Pepper opened the car door. "I'll be back in about an hour or so. Come over this afternoon and help me get things ready?"

"Sure," I said. "I'll fill you in on what Jackie found out about that murder yesterday."

I shuffled back across the cul-de-sac with my newspaper. I needed some coffee.

An hour later, I was happily settled in my murder room.

Buck had fixed the air within minutes by simply flipping a switch in the breaker box. It never occurred to me to try that first. I had assumed I would be looking at a huge repair bill, but my savings account was safe for another day.

After Buck left, I showered, pulled on a pair of jeans with an elastic waist, and yanked a navy blue t-shirt over my head. The style had become a uniform for me. Nothing else was comfortable. If I was feeling festive, I might wear an orange or yellow tee, but chances were good you would find me in navy blue or black. I knew I wasn't fooling anyone, but I felt better trying to hide my weight gain behind the dark clothing.

My murder room was a cozy upstairs office over the garage. Alan had used it for a television room late at night, but I repainted the dark room with a light coral color and installed new beige carpeting. I never took the time to furnish the room until after I found the third murder victim last year.

The first two bodies were crimes of passion. A husband murdered his wife and stuffed her in a garbage bag before tossing her into the dumpster next to the mortgage office where I worked. The large sign on the front of the dumpster clearly read, _Property of Faye's Dry Cleaning. No public disposal._ That didn't stop me from going to work early the next morning to toss in my two garbage bags after I had missed my trash collector. It wouldn't have been a problem if my watchband hadn't hit the edge of the dumpster and broken. Instead of falling onto the ground, it fell into the dumpster. I ran into the mortgage office and grabbed a chair to stand on to look inside. The dumpster was only about a third full, and most of the trash was clean paper and plastic. I could see my watch in an empty box. I figured the best spot to land when I jumped in would be on the largest bag. I met Sergeant Rorski that day.

The second body was simply because I was the first person to drive by and see her along the roadside where her boyfriend had dumped her after a heated argument and a deadly beating.

When I found the third body in the Buxley cemetery, Sergeant Rorski and his men determined the wife did it, and they looked no further. But I had known Lucy Washington all my life, and not only did I believe she would never murder her husband, I believed her when she said she didn't.

It was then I furnished the murder room with a loveseat, credenza, desk, and a whiteboard for keeping track of clues.

With my second cup of coffee in hand, I swiveled my chair around and leaned back to gaze at the empty whiteboard. This would be the third time I was inserting myself into a murder investigation. After years of watching _Law and Order_ , _CSI_ , _Monk_ , _Bones_ , and just about every other crime show there was, I thought our small town police department didn't put enough effort into making sure they had the right person for the crime when something major happened. At first, Pepper thought I was crazy to start sleuthing, but when I found Lucy Washington's adopted brother and the life insurance policy he had fraudulently taken out on her husband, the case ripped wide open, and Lucy was released.

Pepper and Jackie were firmly on board when I found the fourth body last January. Mama had arranged a blind date for me with the son of one of her cronies. I showed up at his house for a promised gourmet dinner. When he didn't answer the door, I walked around back to see if I could peek through his windows. Instead, I peeked into the gaping hole in the back of his head as he lay face down in the snow on his deck. The police had no leads, and after only one month, they were ready to consider his murder a cold case. The three of us promised Mama we would try to find out what happened to her friend's son. It took us until the end of May, but we managed to track down a man in Kentucky who had picked the day of my date to even the score on a business investment gone wrong.

I swiveled my chair around again, scooted up to the desk, and opened my laptop. I wanted to bring up my email and look at the pictures from Jackie.

There were five of them. She had included one from each side of Ruby's body, and one close-up of her face. I printed all five. I also downloaded and printed the picture I had taken of her manicured hand. I tacked the photos across the top of the whiteboard.

Twenty minutes later, I was leaning back in my chair and staring at the meager information. On the left side, I had written Jackie's theory - _The Pimp Did It_. Below the photos were just a few lines:

_Ruby Rosewell  
Stripper  
Pittsburgh  
Arrested for Prostitution  
Murdered 5:00 a.m., July 1  
_

I stood to add one more item - _Eyes closed \- killer knew her_.

Because I had seen it on crime shows, I believed it to be true. Most people who are murdered die with their eyes open. If they are closed, it's because the killer closed them, apparently to alleviate their guilt by not having the victim staring at them.

On the right side of the board was my rendition of the construction site. The simple drawing showed the three mounds of dirt and the location of the body. One edge of the site bordered the rear of my property and that of the Irwins next door. It suddenly dawned on me I might have a view of the crime scene.

I yanked up the blinds of the only window in the room and could almost see the third mound of dirt. I opened the window and stuck my head out. I could definitely see it now, but the large mound shielded where her body had lain. I went into my bedroom and looked out the window facing the site. This view was of the western edge. It bordered the backyards of the row of houses in the neighboring development. I could easily see the first mound of dirt where Pepper's kids had been playing and where I had flopped the bike the second time.

Neither view yielded any additional information.

There wasn't much to go on. Jackie would be up for a run to Pittsburgh tomorrow, but with Pepper hosting the cookout on Tuesday, I knew she would need some convincing.

I checked my watch. It was almost two o'clock. Pepper was probably home from Mama's an hour ago. I went back to the murder room, switched off my laptop, and turned to leave the room. Something didn't feel right.

I hadn't planned to do it. I didn't believe in such things. I walked back over to the board. In the lower right-hand corner, I wrote - _Paula_.

Chapter Three

"Why in the world would you want to homeschool your kids?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"It'll be fun," Pepper said. "I've been reading about it, and with my teaching degree, it should be easy. You can come with us on field trips."

"What kind of field trips?"

"We can go fishing."

I laughed. "That's not a field trip. That's hooky."

"It isn't if you take the nature walk to get to the lake. We'll study flora and fauna and draw pictures of what we see."

"That sounds hot and miserable and like absolutely nothing I would ever want to do," I said, shaking my head and making a face. "I thought the kids were doing just fine in school."

"They are, but Buck and I have been talking about it for a while now. This way, our school hours will be flexible, and we'll be able to spend time with him when he has layovers in Kentucky and West Virginia. We can leave in the morning, be with him by early afternoon, and come home the next day. He's missing too much time with the kids, but it's more than that. They come home with hours of homework every night, and I've been helping both of them so much the past couple of years, I might as well be teaching them myself."

"What do the kids think?"

"As long as they can still see their friends after school, they're ok with it. We're going to try a practice day. Do you remember taking Ohio History?"

"I loved Ohio History. Mr. Garrett was dreamy, and I couldn't wait to get to his class."

Pepper sounded disgusted. "He wasn't dreamy. He was creepy. How could you think that greasy black hair was dreamy?" She rolled her eyes. "But there's a ton of cool history here, and they don't teach it anymore, so we're going to start schooling this summer by going to Marietta for a day. Come with us."

I reached across the counter to swipe another deviled egg off the platter. Pepper made her eggs with dill relish and bacon added to the yolk mixture. They were delicious and addicting. "I'll think about it. When are you going?"

"This Friday."

"I'm working. I can't take off work."

"Sure you can. You have sick days, and I know you're sick of your job. Take a day off."

She was right about that. I hated working at the mortgage office. My official title was Administrative Assistant, but in reality, I was a glorified receptionist. I was supposed to be the assistant to Brian McCray, the manager of our small satellite office, but he had made me his personal gofer. _Go for my coffee. Go for my dry cleaning. Go to the post office and get my mail._ He even insisted I type the minutes from his Masonic meetings, where he was the Grand Poobah every month. When he wasn't in the office, which was often, the days dragged, the phone rarely rang, and I spent most of my time reading magazines or chatting with the guys in the insurance office next door.

I reached for another egg and said, "I'll think about it and let you know."

"Good," she said as she slid the platter closer to me. "Take two. The rest are going in the refrigerator. What are you bringing on Tuesday?"

"What am I supposed to bring? Jackie said I was on dessert. You know dessert will be a disaster if I'm in charge, unless you want me to bring Cool Whip with chocolate chips stirred in. I thought you asked Jackie to bring deviled eggs and macaroni salad. Why are you making them?"

She let out a sigh. "Go ahead and bring your usual potato chips and beer. When Buck and Hank found out Jackie wasn't making pies, they had a fit. So we switched."

"Is Hank bringing a girlfriend? Does he even have a girlfriend?"

"Mama said he's coming alone. He's going to pick up her and the kids and bring them at noon. By the way, she said to tell you to get her a carton of cigarettes."

"Why doesn't Hank get them for her? Besides, Mama doesn't need a carton of cigarettes. Her voice is hoarse as it is, and heaven knows what she's done to her lungs and circulation."

I was getting aggravated just thinking about it. It seemed a miracle Mama was still alive after chain-smoking for over forty years. It definitely irritated me that she still babied our brother Hank. He could do no wrong, and she never asked him for anything. He was three years younger than I was and had rheumatic fever as a child. He was sickly and weak for a few years but had grown into a healthy, over six-foot, muscled man. Mama still acted as though he was fragile, and she showered him with praise and attention.

"The potato chips and beer are covered," I told her. "Stewie is bringing them." I frowned and allowed my irritation to show. "Why did you invite him? How did you even talk with him?"

"I saw him yesterday when he showed up at your house. I was next door chatting with Mrs. Wyler when he drove into the cul-de-sac. He parked by us and asked which house was yours. We talked for a few minutes, and when Mrs. Wyler asked him what he was doing for the holiday, he said he wasn't doing anything. Then he told us he worked with you and that you two had a date. It seemed the polite thing to ask him to the cookout." She could see I was unhappy. "It's a cookout. At my house. He had nothing to do. What's the harm, Jo?"

She was the irritated one now, but I just realized why I didn't know Stewie was in my house yesterday. He hadn't parked in my driveway.

"There's no harm. I just don't think I want to date him. It's never a good idea to date a co-worker, and I don't think I'll ever get past him seeing me tear my granny panties off."

Pepper started to giggle. It only took a few seconds before she went full-blown laughter. I couldn't resist her infectious laugh, and we both ended up wiping tears from our eyes.

"Phew," Pepper let out loudly. "Buck said it was one of the funniest things he'd ever seen. Stewart acting like nothing was going on, and you doing a fan dance with pillows. You know, you really should quit giving him material for his road act."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." I stood from my stool. "Are you setting up tables and chairs today? I can help if you want."

For the next few hours, we cleaned out the garage to make room for the tables and chairs we had hosed down and scrubbed. It was supposed to be in the nineties on the Fourth, and no one would want to sit in the full sun all afternoon. It was hot, sweaty work, but filling Pepper in on the few details of Ruby's murder helped to pass some of the time more quickly.

"Jackie and I are going to Pittsburgh for lunch tomorrow. Are you in?" I asked.

She looked astonished I would ask such a thing. "No, I'm not in. I have too much to do for the cookout."

"Everything's done," I insisted. "The table and chairs are ready, the food is ready, and Buck has the yard and flower beds looking great. There's nothing left to do."

"I have to clean the bathrooms and run the sweeper."

"Bullshorts. You can do it Tuesday morning. Come with us. It'll be fun."

I watched as she looked around the garage. I could tell she was mentally running through her checklist.

"Ok, if we're not back too late. Where are we going?"

"I'm not sure yet. We'll drive around until we see a place that looks good."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You're not going to Pittsburgh for lunch. You're going to look into that girl's murder, aren't you?"

I couldn't help smiling, and my voice took on an excited tone. "I can't help it, Pepper. I think I need a career change. I know I'm not cut out to be a police officer, but I could be a private eye. Jo Ravens, P.I. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? There's something about following leads and finding out what happened when someone is murdered. It fascinates me."

Her mouth hung open for a moment before she shook her head and said, "You're crazy, and you're going to end up in a lot of trouble some day."

"Admit it. You had fun when the three of us went searching to find out who cracked my date's skull open and left him dead in the snow."

"It wasn't fun spending the night in a motel room in Kentucky with spiders, dirty sheets, and you snoring."

I pretended to be offended and said emphatically, "I don't snore."

She made a loud _haw_ sound and asked, "What are you hoping to accomplish tomorrow?"

"We'll be looking for a pimp," I said.

~ ~ ~

"Three sausage and egg biscuits, three hash browns, and three black coffees."

Pepper was yelling our food order for the third time into the broken down speaker box at the drive-thru of Chummy Burgers and More.

We were getting a late start. Jackie showed up at Pepper's house right on time at nine thirty, but I was up late watching a marathon of _Murder She Wrote_ reruns and was just dragging myself into the shower at that time. By ten fifteen, we were finally on our way, and Chummy's was our first stop a few minutes later.

Pepper eventually handed the coffees and food over to Jackie and pulled out of the parking lot. Jackie twisted in her seat to hand a coffee to me and said, "This one has cream in it. You'll drink it with cream, right?"

I didn't respond but took the coffee. As long as it had caffeine, it was fine by me.

Jackie rummaged through the bag of food and said, "We have a bacon and egg biscuit, a steak and egg bagel, and an order of pancakes. There aren't any hash browns. Who wants what?"

"I'll take the pancakes," I said.

That was the beauty of Chummy Burgers. The drive thru speaker hadn't worked properly in years, and it was always a mystery as to what might actually show up in your order. A sign on the speaker indicated if you didn't want any surprises, you had to come inside to place your order.

I was settled comfortably in the back seat. I hated driving in Pittsburgh. It was full of one-way streets, steep roads, bridges, tunnels, rivers, and drivers making Pittsburgh lefts. I found it confusing to find my way around the city. Pepper, on the other hand, wasn't afraid to drive anywhere and was happy to act as chauffeur for the day.

The pancakes were good even though they were on the heavy side. The coffee was hot but not by much. I hoped it would help to wake me up. The drive to Pittsburgh was an hour and forty-five minutes, and I knew I would have a hard time staying awake without some caffeine assistance.

Pepper finished her bagel and shoved the wrapper into the empty bag. "Jo, are you coming with me after work on Wednesday?"

I had no idea what she was talking about. "Where?"

"Figure Perfect. It's the new weight loss place that opened last month over by the hospital. I told you about it last week. You don't have to exercise. They have machines that do all the work for you."

"I thought we were just going on diets. I don't want to work out on machines."

"You don't work out," she insisted. "The machines do the work for you. It's supposed to be revolutionary, and you're guaranteed to lose ten pounds your first month."

Pepper and I had completely different ideas about losing weight. "I can lose ten pounds a lot faster than that with a good flu bug," I said.

Jackie's laugh ended with a snort. "Why do you two keep doing this? You're both beautiful just the way you are. You don't need to lose any weight."

Pepper laughed as much at Jackie's snort as she did her comment. "Oh, yeah, easy for you to say. You look like Jessica Rabbit."

Jackie did have the curves. She definitely fell into the voluptuous category. "Jessica Rabbit? I always think of Jackie as a sexy Brenda Starr," I said.

"Oh, yeah," Pepper said with surprise. "She does look like her. I can't believe I never made the connection."

When we were little, Mama used to read the funnies to us at bedtime on Sunday nights. She loved Brenda Starr as a child and said it was the best comic strip ever written. She gave us extra time to look at the pictures in Brenda's strip, and I always wanted to grow up to look and be just like Brenda Starr. I was a tad envious that Jackie was someone who did.

"You two are nuts," she said. "This body and red hair come from my grandmother. I'm the spitting image of her when she was young."

Pepper and I sighed at the same time. It would be great to have Jackie's figure and not have to work for it. I was mad at myself for slathering so much butter and syrup on my pancakes.

"Buck likes the way I look," Pepper said. "He said I remind him of those Old Masters paintings, where the naked women are always portrayed as pleasingly plump, and they're holding fruit. I really only want to lose five or ten pounds."

Pleasingly plump and holding fruit was not how I wanted to look. Memories of being fit and thin were too recent, and I wanted to be pleasingly thin while eating fruit. "Ok, Pepper," I said. "I'll go with you. How much does it cost? How often do we have to go? And what am I supposed to wear, because I'm not wearing anything tight or revealing."

She didn't answer. She was concentrating on passing a truck with a dangerously swinging double trailer.

The pancakes felt like rocks in my stomach. Jackie and Pepper started talking about tomorrow's cookout, and their voices soon became a murmur. I drifted in and out of sleep. Short dreams began coming fast and changing often. I was swabbing the deck of a ship, cooking dinner for Alan, and then playing Scrabble with Pepper and Buck. I hated that Alan showed up fairly often in my dreams. I was over him in my day-to-day life, but my subconscious missed him. Even though he was selfish and self-centered, I didn't know if I would ever stop loving him on some level.

I heard Pepper say, "Buck's brother and his wife are coming with their five kids."

I drifted back to sleep.

I was now grilling burgers for five kids. Each one wanted their burger cooked a different way. My frustration was mounting, and I started swearing at all of them. It was top-notch swearing with every nasty word I had ever said in my lifetime and then some. I used my spatula to flip the burgers one at a time from the grill to the kids. Each burger fell to the ground. My laughter was maniacal. The kids faded from view. I stared at the charred meat on the ground and contemplated picking one up to eat. As I reached for the burger nearest me, the ground shook from the whip that split the burger in two. I looked up to see Paula staring intently into my eyes. She spoke. "The soup. The soup killed me."

I bolted upright in the back seat. I had been slumped over, and a bit of drool was at the corner of my mouth. I felt like a sluggard. I had never had anything like this happen to me before, and I didn't want to believe someone could actually come to me in my dreams. Especially a dead someone. That kind of thing only happened in books and movies. And if she _was_ coming to me, I knew now that she had been poisoned. But that didn't make sense. Why the knife in her chest?

I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. "Are we there yet?" I asked.

"Geez, Jo," Pepper said. "Thanks for waking up. You sure do know how to saw logs."

"I don't snore," I said emphatically.

Jackie twisted around to give me a big smile. I suppose I must have been snoring, but I wasn't going to admit it. "We're just coming up to the Fort Pitt Tunnel," she said. "We'll be downtown in about five minutes."

I yawned and tried to clear my cobwebs. "What's our plan, ladies? How do you want to go about looking for a pimp?"

Jackie responded. "I think our best bet is to go into as many bars as we can. We'll show Ruby's picture around and ask if anyone knows her. We're going to have to find someone who knew her before we can find her pimp."

"Do we have a good picture?" Pepper asked.

Jackie showed her the headshot of Ruby from the construction site. It wasn't gruesome. She looked like she was sleeping, albeit with dirt on her face.

The atmosphere in the car became melancholy. I had a strange feeling that today's excursion would be a waste of time.

"What is that smell?" I asked. I looked around to see what we had just passed. A sickening odor filled the car.

Pepper started to giggle. Jackie held her hand up over her nose.

"What the french toast?" I yelped. "Pepper!"

She burst out laughing. "I'm sorry. It was only a little test fart. I didn't expect it to smell so bad. We had Mexican food last night, and then with Chummy's food this morning, I think my guts are messed up."

"Well, roll the window down," I snapped. "And grab a parking spot. We can use the GPS to find bars and strip clubs."

"You can't search for strip clubs with a GPS," Pepper said.

"Sure you can," Jackie said. She fiddled with her phone for a minute. "We're close to three strip clubs and four bars. Go one block to your left and then turn right. The Diamond Gentleman's Club will be on your right."

"Should we all go in?" Pepper asked.

"No," I said. "Why don't you man the getaway car while Jackie and I go in and ask around?"

A few minutes later, we were inside the brightly lit club. The color scheme was a gaudy purple and vanilla. The club didn't officially open until four o'clock, and a cleaning crew was busy at work.

Jackie approached the nearest worker and flashed her press badge. "Is the owner around?"

The woman appeared frightened at the sight of the badge.

"I'm not the police. I'm a reporter," Jackie assured her.

The woman responded through a thick accent, "Mr. Gentleman in back. I go get." She hustled to the rear of the room and through an open doorway.

"Do you think there might be some illegal workers on the cleaning crew?" I asked.

"Probably. But it's not my town to care or want to write about it," Jackie said as she read messages on her phone.

After a few minutes of waiting, I became restless. I had a strong feeling this wasn't the place for Ruby.

"If he doesn't come out in another couple of minutes, let's go," I said.

Jackie nodded and continued reading messages.

A short, bald man finally walked through the doorway and approached us.

"What do you want, ladies?"

His attitude was less than cordial.

Jackie flashed her press badge again and pulled out the picture. "Do you know this girl? She goes by the name of Ruby."

"I don't know her, and I've never seen her before. Just like I told the other guys who were here."

Pepper and I exchanged surprised looks.

"What guys?" I asked. "Police officers?"

"No, just a couple of guys in suits early this morning. We don't hire prostitutes, and I've never seen her before." He handed the photo back to Jackie.

I wanted to get out of there right away.

"C'mon, let's go." I grabbed Jackie's arm to head back to the entrance.

Out on the sidewalk, I held a finger up to Pepper to let her know to wait where she was. I pointed to a bar across the street, and Jackie and I crossed over.

"Who do you think these guys are asking about Ruby?" I asked.

"I don't know. Undercover cops, private investigators, or a couple of nefarious characters. I'll try to find out by the end of the day."

We walked into the next bar and left with the same information as before. No one knew Ruby, and two men had already been there inquiring about her. We encountered the same scenario at the two strip clubs around the corner.

When we doubled back to the Diamond Gentleman's Club, Pepper was leaning against the car.

"Did you find out anything?" she asked.

Jackie shook her head. "Nothing other than two guys are in town asking about her, too."

"Really? Police?"

"Nope," I said. "They weren't wearing uniforms. Jackie's going to try to find out who they are when we get back. Why are you standing out here?"

Pepper started to giggle.

"You're kidding," I said. "Has it aired out yet?"

"Give me a break," she said. "I told you my guts were messed up, but I went in and used the restroom. I feel better now. It's all good."

Jackie couldn't hide her disgust. "You used a bathroom in a strip club?"

"There were people cleaning in there. It was nice."

I started to feel a sense of urgency. "Come on. Let's keep moving. What's next on your GPS, Jackie?"

For the next couple of hours, we stopped at bars and strip clubs throughout the downtown area. We weren't any closer to finding out anything about Ruby than when we first started.

"We're going about this the wrong way," I said. "Most of the bars and clubs we've been in have been nice. Maybe we need to find out of the way places that are seedier. Let's pick a direction and head out of the city."

Jackie agreed. "I vote we go south. When we're done, we can simply head west, and we shouldn't be too far from home."

"Fine by me," Pepper said and turned the car around. "Can we eat soon?"

It was nearly three thirty. I was feeling hungry myself. "We'll get a bite to eat at the next place we find."

"What are you guys doing tonight?" Jackie asked.

"The kids are gone, so Buck and I have a special evening planned." Pepper placed emphasis on the word special.

"Sounds like fun," Jackie said. "Matt and I are going to the movies with his sister and her husband. It's their turn to pick the movie, so as long as they don't choose horror, it should be a good time. What are you doing, Jo?"

I squirmed in my seat. It was times like this when I hated being alone. I spent a lot of time hanging out at Pepper's house but not when Buck was home and they had _special_ evenings planned. Jackie and I had been spending more time together over the past year, but she and Matt had a busy social life, so it was usually just a few nights a month. When Jackie and Pepper were both busy, I was more aware of, and even embarrassed by, my aloneness.

"I might go out. There's a Buster Keaton film festival at the college over in Patterson."

"Since when do you like silent films?" Pepper was staring at me in the rear-view mirror. I could see the furrow between her eyebrows.

"What? I like silent films. And I like going to the college."

I hated lying, and I had just told two whoppers. It hit me that my personal life was starting to spiral out of control, and I needed to reel it in before I turned into someone the reality show people wanted to showcase. _Jo Ravens. Crazy, overweight woman who lives alone, dreams of dead people, and sniffs out dead bodies. Tune in Tuesdays at eight o'clock on Discovery._

I was quiet as we headed south out of the downtown area. My thoughts were depressing until I remembered the comment I made to Pepper yesterday about becoming a private investigator. It suddenly seemed like a good idea. A very good idea. I could take criminology classes at the college this fall. My mood lifted instantly. This was something I definitely wanted to look into.

"Pink Elephants should be just ahead on your left," Jackie told Pepper.

A bright green liquor sign flashed off and on at the edge of the parking lot. A pink elephant with bubbles over its head was nestled in a champagne glass on a large sign above the building. The bar had an overall rundown appearance, but the parking lot was nearly full.

Once my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I could see the dining area was bustling with waitresses running food and drink orders. A buxom girl in a tight t-shirt with the pink elephant logo raced by with a platter of sliders and told us to take a seat anywhere. Jackie led the way to a table near the kitchen.

"Wow, for looking like a dump, this place sure is hopping," Pepper said.

Patrons filled the bar, but there appeared to be more cars outside than allowed for the number of people inside. A waitress came by and dropped three menus on the table before running into the kitchen.

"It's all bar food. What do you guys want?" Pepper asked.

"We could share some jalapeno poppers," I said.

Both nodded their approval. A frazzled waitress arrived with three glasses of water then stood at attention with pad and pen in hand. We placed our order for the poppers followed by a Philly cheesesteak sandwich for me, a bourbon burger for Pepper, and a taco salad for Jackie.

"Thanks for doing this today, girls," I said. We didn't accomplish much, but at least we tried."

"It's been fun," Pepper said. "We should head for home after this though. I'd like to be back by six."

Jackie nodded in agreement. "Matt wants to leave by seven, so that works for me, too." She checked her messages one more time before slipping her phone into her purse.

A few minutes later, our waitress plunked the plate of poppers onto the table.

I decided to run my idea by the two of them. "Ok, listen up. I've been doing some thinking."

Pepper laughed. "This can't be good."

I smiled. "No, I think this is good. You both know how much I hate my job. I think I would make a good private investigator. I can take criminology classes at the college this fall and get my license. You two can be my assistants."

Jackie laughed so hard, she snorted several times, causing the people at the table next to ours to look over.

Pepper was giggling, but she knew me well enough to know I was serious.

When Jackie had her laughing and snorting under control, she said, "You have to have a name for your business. What will you call yourself?"

"Jo Ravens, P.I., of course."

Pepper shook her head. "That's too plain, and it sounds like the title of a B movie."

"Well then, Jo Ravens, Private Investigator. Or Ravens Agency," I said.

Jackie started to laugh again. "The name should include all three of us if we're going to be working together. What do our initials make up?"

Pepper fished a pen out of her purse to write on the paper placemat. "You and Jo have the same initials of JR. Mine are PS. We could go with PS and Juniors, or Pepper and Juniors."

Why did Pepper think I would let her have top billing? I shook my head. "Both of those sound like daycare centers."

Jackie glanced over at Pepper's scribbles and offered, "How about The JoJackPepper Agency?"

I added a frown to my head shaking. "That sounds like cheese."

"I have it!" Pepper exclaimed. "My middle name is May, so my initials are PMS. We can call ourselves, Two Girls and PMS."

Pepper and Jackie laughed so hard, they cried. I found humor in the name, but I was slightly offended they didn't like Jo Ravens, PI.

Our waitress arrived with our food. Jackie smiled and softened her tone. "I like the idea a lot, Jo. I think you're definitely onto something, and I think you'd make a great private investigator. I wish I had a sister to share my work with."

"It will be fun, won't it? We'll be two sisters and a journalist." A light bulb went off over my head. I sat back in my chair, grinned, and said it again, "Two Sisters and a Journalist."

They both smiled and nodded in agreement. It was perfect, and I was forevermore going to answer the red phone with the phrase.

When we finished our meals, Pepper and Jackie went out to the car while I stayed behind to see if there was someone I could ask about Ruby.

I leaned against the bar and asked the bartender, "Is the owner or manager in?"

He pointed to a set of curtains over a doorway.

"It's ok if I go back there?"

He nodded and continued to mix a drink.

I parted the curtains and walked through to find myself in another room full of patrons. This room wasn't serving food, but there was a small bar for serving alcohol. Two girls were dancing in bikinis on a heart-shaped stage. I approached the bar and waited for the bartender to finish drawing a beer.

Before I had a chance to ask him about management, a loud noise caused me to jump. I whirled around to see a girl in a black bikini crack a whip as she strutted back and forth across the stage. It was eerily reminiscent of my dream. I had a strong feeling that Ruby used to work here.

"Hey, lady, what can I get for you?" the bartender asked.

I turned around and decided to show him the picture. "Do you know this girl?"

Recognition flashed across his face. "You'll have to talk to the boss. He's over there in the red shirt." He pointed to a man talking with two girls in bikinis.

I didn't want to keep Pepper and Jackie waiting too long, so I rushed over and interrupted. "Excuse me. I'm looking for some help. Do you know this girl?" I held Ruby's picture out in front of the three of them.

The man grabbed my arm and escorted me away from the girls to the end of the bar.

"Do you know who she is?" I asked again.

"It'll cost you," he said.

I couldn't believe it. He wanted money from me. When I was a private investigator, was I going to have to carry around a slush fund to pay for information?

"Are you serious?"

"Yep. If you want to know, you can slip me a fifty," he said.

I didn't have a fifty, but I did have two twenties and a ten. I pulled the bills out of my wallet and begrudgingly handed them to him. I asked again, "Do you know who she is?"

He paused before saying, "Yes."

"Well?" I was getting impatient.

"You asked, and I answered."

My jaw dropped. "I just paid you fifty dollars to tell me who she is."

"No. You paid me fifty dollars to tell you if I knew who she was, and I said yes. I might have told you more if you had come in a few hours ago, but a couple of suits were here and told me to keep my mouth shut, so I am. You can go out that door." He pointed to a side door before walking away from me.

I contemplated making a scene. I hated losing my money, and my temper was rising. I was going to have to learn to word my questions more carefully if I was going to turn pro. I rushed out the door and into the parking lot. Pepper already had the car in gear and pulled out of the parking space when she saw me. I hurried over to jump in.

"Hey, lady! Hey!"

I turned to see one of the dancers who had been talking with the owner calling for me. I waited for her.

She was slightly out of breath as she said, "I'm sorry to hear about Ruby. I knew her, and she was a real nice girl. She hasn't worked here for a long time. Over a year. Maybe even closer to two."

"Do you know who her pimp is or was?" I asked.

The girl appeared confused. "She didn't have a pimp. Ruby wasn't a prostitute. I don't know what you heard, but all she ever did was dance at bars, clubs, and sometimes private parties. She said she got caught up in a couple of raids on parties when she lived in Pittsburgh, but she was never a prostitute."

This bit of news threw a monkey wrench into Jackie's theory. "Did you know her real name?" I asked.

She shook her head. "She was super secretive about her identity. Even the boss wasn't sure if she was using her real name or not. She swore to everyone that Ruby Rosewell was her true and born name, and she had an I.D. to prove it, but I overheard her on the phone once talking to someone about her mother being in the hospital. I didn't hear her say her last name, but I heard her first name."

I held my breath, waiting for her to say _Paula_.

Instead, my ears heard, "It was Charlotte."

Chapter Four

I tossed the crust from my third slice of pizza onto the open lid of the pizza box. Even though we had eaten in Pittsburgh shortly after four, I ordered a pizza at seven. By eight, I had eaten half of it and downed two beers. My pants were stretched to the max and digging into my waistline.

Ordering food always seemed like a good idea until I overindulged, which I did nearly every day lately. Going to Figure Perfect with Pepper on Wednesday would be the start of putting a stop to my binge eating. I reached for another slice.

My mouth was full when the red phone rang. It took me by surprise. Pepper was supposed to be having mad, wild sex all evening, and Jackie was off to the movies by now. She would probably have mad, wild sex when she got home. I had a momentary overwhelming feeling of missing Alan and the mad, wild sex we used to have – sometimes in this very room.

But now, the red phone was ringing, so someone's night wasn't going as planned.

I chewed fast, swallowed hard, and jumped into the oversized chair to answer the phone. "Two Sisters and a Journalist." I smiled with delight at saying the name.

There was no response.

"Jackie? Pepper?" It had to be one of them. "Come on, what's up?"

There was a noise on the other end. It was soft at first – a shallow, thin noise.

"Jackie? What's going on?"

The noise became louder. It was breathing. Raspy, ragged, heavy breathing - like from a sex offender.

I slammed the handset down. Whoever it was had to be calling random telephone numbers. I knew Jackie and Pepper would never give my number to anyone.

The phone rang again a few minutes later.

I answered with a tentative, "Hello?"

The breathing started right away.

"Who is this? How did you get this number?" I demanded.

The sound was creepy and disgusting at the same time. The longer I listened, the more it intensified. I slammed the handset down again.

When the phone rang for a third time, I answered but didn't say anything. The heavy breathing resumed and seemed to have reached fever pitch.

I calmly said into the receiver, "You know, God loves you even though you're a pervert."

Mama used to say that to all the heavy breathers when I lived at home. It had been at least twenty years since I'd heard her say it, and as gross as the breathing had been, the entire experience made me smile. I hung up the phone and unplugged it from the wall outlet. Whoever it was wouldn't be bothering me for the rest of the evening.

~ ~ ~

The pizza rolled and roiled in my stomach all night long. I tossed and turned until I finally dragged myself out of bed at nine.

Pepper had asked guests to show up between noon and one o'clock. Hank would have Mama and Pepper's kids there shortly after noon, so I planned to show up at one on the dot. I loved Mama, but her incessant nagging and criticizing of me was tiresome.

I poured a cup of coffee and headed back upstairs to the murder room. The blinds were still open from when I had been in the room on Sunday. The morning sun streamed in, giving the room a warm, cheerful appearance.

I flipped the blinds closed. A murder room shouldn't be happy.

Coffee in hand, I settled myself on the loveseat and stared at the whiteboard. Obviously, it had problems.

The owner and some of the girls at Pink Elephants had known Ruby. However, it was so long ago, there was probably nothing they could add to shed light on her murder. The owner might know more, but he certainly wasn't going to tell me.

I yawned. The coffee was doing a poor job of giving me an energy boost. I slumped down and leaned my head back. I continued to stare at the board. The pimp theory at the top would have to be crossed off and a note made that she probably wasn't a prostitute. The name of Paula needed to be changed to Charlotte. It was absurd to think she could come to me in dreams. I should have figured that out with the second dream when she said she was poisoned.

My eyes refused to stay open. I was holding the cup of hot coffee in my right hand, but I rested it on my stomach to close my eyes for a minute. I could certainly think about what steps to take next with my eyes closed. Maybe I would go back over to the construction site and look around more carefully. ... Something may have been left somewhere ... away from the dirt mounds ... and ... and I should try to find out ... if her manicure was something special ... or simply ...

"Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Woman found with knife in chest!"

A young Charles Dickensish lad was hawking newspapers on the streets of London. A crowd gathered round to buy the papers. I didn't have any money, but I was desperate to get a copy. I craned my neck to see the paper in the hands of people who had already bought one, but my view was blocked at every turn. I looked again at the boy just in time to see Paula crack her whip and wrap it around his neck. She yanked him violently to the ground and stomped her foot on his chest. Reaching into his bag, she threw one of the papers at me. It landed at my feet. The lead story wasn't about a dead woman. It read - Ancient Earthworks Tour Pulls Record Numbers. I looked up to see the entire London scene fading away. A last glance at the fading newspaper showed it was the July Fourth edition of The Marietta Times.

I twitched. A full-body twitch. Coffee spilled onto my chest and neck. I jumped up and spilled more of the coffee onto the loveseat and carpet.

My favorite swear word popped out of my mouth multiple times. I frantically searched for something to mop up the coffee, but there was only one tissue in the box on the desk. More swear words gushed forth with vigor.

I ran to the bathroom for wet towels. A wave of guilt rushed over me for swearing. I switched to yelling, "Shoot! Shoot!" Pepper would be proud of me, but it didn't feel as good or have the same impact.

It took two trips to the bathroom for wet towels, and one to the kitchen for carpet cleaner, but the loveseat and carpet were finally clean and appeared none the worse for wear. After washing up and changing my t-shirt, I was soon staring at the whiteboard again.

The dreams continued to bother me. I had never dreamed about any of the other victims. Why this one?

I made the few necessary changes to the board, but instead of erasing Paula's name, I drew a large box around it and labeled the box - _Dreams_. I then added the additional information:

_Soup killed her  
The Marietta Times - Ancient Earthworks Tour_

None of it made sense. The three seemingly bogus bits of dream information had to be a product of my overactive imagination, but I wasn't yet ready to discard them.

I made a new column and titled it - _To Do_. I listed two items:  
_  
Check construction site  
Ask at hair salons about manicure_

There simply wasn't enough information to form an opinion or discern any concrete leads. I'd have to be patient.

I yawned again. A quick glance at my watch showed it was only ten fifteen. I shuffled back to my bedroom, kicked off my fuzzy orange slippers, and climbed back under the covers. I needed more sleep, and, as disturbing as the dreams were, I hoped Paula would show up to give me more information.

~ ~ ~

"Where are the Jarts? Hank, go get the Jarts. I don't want to play stupid cornhole."

Mama was whining up a storm as I walked up Pepper's driveway. Pepper ran down to meet me halfway and hissed under her breath, "Where have you been? And where are Mama's cigarettes?"

"Sleeping. And I forgot the cigarettes."

"Really?" Her look was incredulous. "No cigarettes, and you only brought a jar of olives?"

I felt bad for frustrating her, but I didn't care if Mama had cigarettes, and since the chips and beer were covered by Stewie, I grabbed a jar of olives out of the cupboard at the last minute. I didn't want to show up empty-handed.

"I'm not late, and I know you have enough food for an army."

Buck passed us with car keys in hand. "I'll get the cigarettes. I want to pick up a couple more bags of ice anyway. I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Why can't we play Jarts? We always used to play Jarts at our cookouts. The kids will love them."

Hank wasn't fazed by Mama's whining. "Jarts have been illegal for over twenty years. They're more dangerous than cars. That's why we have cornhole. It's fun to throw the little corn bag in the hole." He was smiling, and I knew he thought Mama's whining was funny.

I walked over to give her a hug and a kiss.

"Hello, Jo. Why no t-shirt? And where are my cigarettes?"

After spilling the coffee on my last clean t-shirt that was decent, I had rummaged through my closet until I found a white button-down shirt with a pretty detail on the front. It was now hanging loose over my jeans.

"I dressed up just for you, Mama, and Buck will be back with your cigarettes in a few minutes."

The response appeared to placate her. She turned her attention back to the game.

I scanned the yard. It looked as though everyone was already here. I was surprised to see Jackie's fellow reporter, that slug Doug Preston, sitting with her and her husband. Stewie was sitting in a lawn chair next to Jackie. He surely saw me come up the driveway, but he remained seated. He probably expected me to go to him. Instead, I followed Pepper through the garage and into the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You seem tense."

"I'm not." She took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Maybe a little." She took the jar of olives from me and set it on the counter. "I'm uncomfortable that Doug is here, and Mama's been barking about everything. She smoked her last cigarette forty minutes ago."

I could understand her being frustrated with Mama, but this was news to me that Doug Preston would upset her.

"Didn't you invite him?"

"No. Jackie said his wife was in Wyoming for the summer, so she asked him to come along with her and Matt. I don't mind the extra person, but I do mind him.

"Why? What's he ever done to you?"

Even though we were alone in the kitchen, she lowered her voice. "Don't you remember we dated in high school?"

"That was ages ago. Who cares? He probably doesn't even remember."

"Maybe he doesn't, but I do."

"So what? What's the big deal?" She was obviously hiding something. It was my turn to be incredulous. "Do you still have feelings for him?"

She looked appalled. "No! But we went to the senior prom together and..." She hesitated. I could tell she didn't want to say more.

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. "Doug was your first?"

"Jeez, Jo, keep your voice down."

This was delicious information. I grinned from ear to ear. "Why didn't you ever tell me? I thought Buck was your one and only." I knew she was miserable, but I wasn't about to give her a break. "Oh, man, this is really up there, Pepper. You were always so goody-goody, and how many times did you lecture me to never sleep with guys?" I was suddenly irritated remembering her hypocrisy.

She became defensive. "It was only the one time, and it was prom. I felt so special. He was captain of the football team, and he was dating me instead of one of the cheerleaders."

I remembered the time well. I was a freshman and Pepper was a senior. Doug was the best-looking guy in school, and I couldn't understand how Pepper managed to snag him. They had only been dating a few weeks when he asked her to the prom. I was jealous in a big way and thought he should have asked me. Pepper was a plump, plain-Jane, mousey girl, where I was tall, thin, and, in my own mind, beautiful – even if I didn't have any boobs. Boobs! That was it! Pepper had the biggest boobs in the senior class. That's how she snagged Doug Preston.

"After the dance, instead of going out to dinner with the rest of the gang, he drove over to Patterson and parked on the Northfield Ridge Overlook so we could watch airplanes come in at the airport. He was smooth and kept telling me he loved me and how beautiful I was. I fell for it completely. I was walking on air the next day. I felt so grown up and in love."

Something about her story repulsed me. At the same time, some of the old jealousy about her and Doug surfaced.

"I never heard from him again. He didn't call, and he never looked at me or talked to me at school either. I was humiliated and felt so dirty." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I hate him, Jo. To this day, I hate him, and I think he has a lot of nerve coming to my house."

Any ugly feelings I had were instantly gone. I hugged her and said, "It was a long time ago. You were both kids. And you're happily married now." I didn't know what more to say to console her. Instead, I opted for, "If karma really is a bitch, maybe I'll find his dead body one day."

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Oh, Jo! Don't say that!" She laughed again. "But I have thought of that very thing more than once."

"Come on. Let's go see what trouble Mama's causing. I'll keep an eye on Doug and make his day miserable if I can."

We made our way back through the garage and onto the lawn in time to see Aunt Bee parking in my driveway.

Aunt Bee was Mama's younger sister and a complete opposite. Where Mama complained all the time, Aunt Bee was the happiest person on the planet. Mama was a skinny skeleton of a woman with a narrow mind, while Aunt Bee was a short, roly-poly woman with a huge personality. She could always be counted on to liven up any party.

She stepped out of her car but leaned right back in to grab something. A moment later, she was walking toward us with a watermelon in her hands. It had been cut lengthwise and piled high with melon balls. I knew the fruit would be soaked with alcohol.

Keith and Kelly ran from the cornhole game to greet her. I might be the cool aunt in the family, but there was no denying Aunt Bee was their favorite a million times over.

"Aunt Bee," Kelly exclaimed. "That's a huge watermelon. I love watermelon!"

Keith tried to move the plastic wrap aside to snatch a ball.

"No you don't," Aunt Bee said, holding the watermelon higher. "This one is for the adults. It's got rum in it."

Keith put his pout face on and crossed his arms over his chest. Aunt Bee carried her watermelon into the garage to add it to the already massive amount of food.

Buck pulled in and exited the car with cigarettes and ice. "What's wrong with you?" he asked Keith.

"Aunt Bee showed up with a rum-soaked watermelon for the adults and none for the kids," Pepper said.

He handed the cigarettes and ice over to her. "I'm on it," he said. He turned around and headed back to the car.

Mama started caterwauling as soon as she saw Buck leaving. "Where are my cigarettes? Where is Buck going? When are we eating? I'm starving. Kelly, get me some of that watermelon."

I felt more tired than when I climbed back into bed this morning. Pepper took the cigarettes to Mama while I made my way over to Stewie, Jackie, Matt, and that dirtbag, Doug.

I greeted them without enthusiasm. "Hi guys."

Jackie smiled and said cheerfully, "Good morning. You just wake up?"

Stewie stood to give me his seat next to Jackie and then moved into the empty chair next to mine. I plopped down.

"I didn't sleep well, and I feel like I've been drugged. I don't have any energy."

Doug had the cure. "You need some protein. It'll pick you right up. Protein always makes me feel better. And go play some cornhole. You'll get your blood circulating. I eat right and exercise and I never feel sluggish. You should try it some time."

I didn't attempt to hide my irritation at what had just come out of his mouth. Jackie looked my way with her eyes opened wide and a huge smile on her face. I knew she thought he was a jerk and was secretly laughing at him rather than at what he said.

I had only ever had contact with Doug a few times. Once was at the police station and there were a couple of times at social events. We were cordial but had never had a conversation. The word around town was that he still thought of himself as the captain of the team – any team. He thought he knew everything about everything and everyone. He was insufferable.

"Stewie, would you mind grabbing me a beer?" I asked.

"Sure. I need another myself. Want to try one of the new ones from Great Lakes Brewing? I brought four different kinds."

"Bring me a pilsner if you have one."

"You got it. Anybody else?"

Only Doug abstained. "I never drink alcohol. It dulls my senses, and I need to be on my A-game right now."

No one said anything, so I took the bait and asked, "Why?"

"Because I've been assigned to the Ruby Rosewell murder. I'll be writing the lead on this one."

The muscles in Jackie's face twitched. She tried not to react, but I knew anger was just beneath the surface. Jackie had been first on the scene, and all the information the paper had printed so far had come from her.

"How'd you get that assignment?" I asked.

His gloating was apparent. "I guess the boss wanted the best on this one."

My mouth hung open at his comment. I was amazed he didn't blow on his fingertips and rub his chest. Matt put his hand on Jackie's knee as if to hold her back.

Doug laughed at my reaction and said, "Or, it could be because I told him I had an in with the two investigators Sergeant Rorski put on the case. They promised to give me an exclusive with any information they turned up. They've already been all over Pittsburgh following leads."

Stewie came back with the beers. Jackie quickly took a big swig of hers.

"What did I miss?" Stewie asked.

"Nothing much," Matt said. "Doug was just telling us how great he is to get to write the lead on the Ruby Rosewell murder. He has a couple of investigators lined up to give him information."

Stewie frowned. "Really? What do you know so far?"

I saw Aunt Bee walking in our direction. She was making the rounds and had just spent a few minutes visiting with Buck's brother and his wife. They were seated near the cornhole game to keep an eye on their five kids.

"Hey, everybody," she chirped. "Jackie, Matt, it's so nice to see you. Doug Preston, I haven't seen you in ages, but I love reading your church social articles and weekly recipes in the paper. I never miss them."

Hurray for Aunt Bee. She knew Doug was a jerk. I gave Jackie a slight elbow of approval for Aunt Bee's words.

"And this must be Stewart. Buck's told me all about you. It's about time Jo got herself a new beau. She's been cooped up in that house for too long."

"We're not dating, Aunt Bee," I insisted. "We're co-workers."

"Of course you're dating," she said with a wink at Stewie. "You don't take your clothes off for someone unless you're dating."

I grimaced. My feet wanted to take me home, but my butt was firmly planted in the chair, and it would take too much effort to actually get up and walk home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Buck carting a watermelon into the garage. I made a mental note to give him grief later for telling Aunt Bee about the mostly naked fiasco with Stewie.

Not to be ignored, Doug started running his mouth again. "As I was saying, those two investigators were all over Pittsburgh, and they got a big lead on the girl and her pimp. I don't know the details yet, but I should have the exclusive for Sunday's paper."

Aunt Bee smirked. "Are you talking about Walker and Butler?"

Doug nodded.

"They're up in Schenectady," she said. "They found out the girl's name was Sherry Clarke. She's been turning tricks up there for over a year."

Doug looked dumbfounded. "How do you know that?"

"Milly at the beauty shop. I was writing a ticket in front of the shop yesterday, and she came out and told me. Walker's wife was in earlier in the day and told her. Everyone knows there isn't anything to investigate. They need to find her family and notify them of her death. If they find her pimp, they'll probably have the murderer, but it will be hard to prove. They won't put much manpower on this one."

Leave it to Aunt Bee. If there was anything in town to know, she knew it. Her title used to be meter maid, but now she's known as a traffic enforcement employee. She walks a beat downtown and picks up a lot of information as she writes tickets and calls for towaways.

I was definitely interested in the name I had just heard. Ruby, Paula, Charlotte, and now Sherry. Which one was it? I wasn't surprised the Buxley police weren't going to devote much time to the case, but I had a strong feeling there was much more to this murder than was known. I believed the girl at Pink Elephants when she said Ruby wasn't a prostitute. If I wanted to dig deeper, was Sherry Clarke the name I should look into? Or Charlotte? My head was starting to hurt. Drinking beer on an empty stomach in the hot sun wasn't helping.

Doug was steaming. "This is my exclusive, and those beauty shop busybodies should keep their big mouths shut." He muttered under his breath, "You can never trust a wife with information. They're nothing but trouble."

The ensuing silence was awkward.

Doug pointed his finger at me and demanded, "Jo, I want an interview with you. You found the body, and I want to know exactly how you found it and what you did afterward."

Stewie frowned again. It was a deep frown with deep furrows between his eyebrows. "You found the body?"

I nodded.

Matt laughed and said, "She sure did. That makes five bodies in two years. Right, Jo?"

"Yep. It's a talent," I said.

Stewie added some fidgeting in his seat to his frown. He seemed completely disturbed by the information.

"I find them, Stewie. I don't kill them," I said sarcastically. I was annoyed by his sudden attitude.

I left the group. I wanted to get out of the sun and away from Stewie. I headed for the garage. Pepper was talking with Buck as he grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. Mama had moved her chair next to Buck's brother and his wife. She had a six-pack of beer in a cooler beside her. A cigarette dangled from her lips. I cringed when I heard her say, "Cornhole isn't an appropriate name for a kid's game. In my day it meant-"

Buck quickly yelled to shush her. I stepped into the garage and out of hearing range.

Three tables were loaded down with food. Normally, I loved the food at Pepper's cookouts, but none of it looked good to me today. My stomach was in knots, and the thought of anything with mayonnaise or grease only upset it more. I scanned the dessert table. Jackie's six pies were front and center. There were two peach, two apple, and two blueberry. Pepper had added a chocolate cake to the table, three trays of cookies, and a dirt dessert with gummy worms. Aunt Bee's rum-soaked watermelon was precariously perched at the end of the table.

My stomach could probably handle something sweet. I cut a piece of Jackie's apple pie and dumped it onto a paper plate. The first bite sent my taste buds into overdrive. I devoured the slice. There wasn't another human alive who could make a pie better than Jackie. I cut a piece of the blueberry and was nearly finished when a bite fell off my plastic fork and rolled down my white blouse before falling onto the floor. I looked up from the pie to see Stewie watching me from the doorway of the garage.

"It had to be the blueberry," I said looking at the purple color streaked down my blouse.

"Jo, listen, I didn't mean to look so shocked about you finding the dead girl. It just surprised me, and then when Matt said you'd found five bodies, well, it seemed so bizarre."

"It's ok. Want some pie?" I cut a slice of the peach.

"No. I just wanted to apolo-."

"Come and get it," Buck yelled as he came into the garage with a heaping platter of hot dogs and hamburgers.

Within seconds, the kids were filling plates and the adults were making a line behind them. Pepper sidled up to me.

"What are you doing? Aren't you going to eat a burger?"

"My stomach's upset. I just want dessert."

Pepper looked at the three pies, the stain on my shirt, and the blob of blueberry on the garage floor. She giggled as she walked away.

I knew she was remembering the day I got a whippin' from Mama for sneaking into the pantry and eating an entire blueberry pie she had baked for Old Man Wilson's funeral. I was eight years old and I knew better, but I loved blueberries and something wicked talked me into hiding and eating the pie that day. Mama was an expert at wielding a belt, but I didn't care. I cried something fierce, and Pepper felt sorry for me, but I had an entire pie in my belly and she didn't.

Three pieces of pie today weren't an entire pie. They were just a warm-up. I grabbed another paper plate and loaded it with more pie before making my way out to my chair.

The sugar rush helped my spirits, and the rest of the day sailed along smoothly. Conversation was enjoyable, Mama settled down, and Stewie opened up and was more charming than I had ever seen him. Jackie especially enjoyed his dry humor and continually laughed at his stories.

Doug Preston left shortly after eating, as did Buck's brother and his family. It wasn't long before everyone was complaining about the heat, so the party and the food moved indoors where charades was the game of choice. The only disturbing moment was when it was Mama's turn, and she kept sticking her teeth out at Stewie for a clue. She may have known Clark Gable had false teeth, but we sure didn't.

At dusk, Buck and Matt carried a heavy crate of fireworks between them over to the construction site behind my house. The rest of us sat in the lawn chairs Hank had already set up to face in that direction.

It was nearly an hour before the first colorful starburst went up into the night sky. A few moments later, Matt came running back to the house. He threw a string of lit firecrackers behind him as he ran. Pepper lit sparklers for Keith, Kelly, and Mama.

"How do you guys get away with this?" Stewie asked. "Ohio has strict laws against fireworks like these."

I laughed. "Buck was nearly caught last year, but Sergeant Rorski couldn't prove it was him who set them off, so he gave him a warning. After Buck found out it was a first-class misdemeanor with a fine of a thousand dollars and up to six months in jail, he took a class on explosives and got a Fireworks Exhibitor's License."

He seemed impressed. "You're kidding?"

"Nope. Some kids never grow up, and Matt is just as bad as Buck, but only Buck has the license."

A pretty burst of red stars covered the sky, and everyone let out a collective, "Oooooh."

Mrs. Wyler came out of the house next door to stand on her front lawn and watch. Pepper walked over to say hello and watch the fireworks with her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stewie shift in his seat. Not much, but there was a definite slight turn toward me. He wiped his hands on his shorts and ever so slowly started to move his right hand toward my left hand.

I jumped up. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" Mama asked. "I can't hear anything over these explosions."

"A siren. I heard a siren. Sergeant Rorski will be here in record time this year."

"I didn't hear anything," Stewie said.

"Must have been a false alarm," I said as I slowly sat down to await another uncomfortable attempt by Stewie to hold my hand. It was a miracle when a few seconds later, a patrol car actually pulled across the bottom of the driveway. Sergeant Rorski stepped out. I was surprised to see he wasn't in uniform.

"Evening, folks," he said as he came up the drive. "You've outdone yourselves this year."

Pepper rushed over from Mrs. Wyler's. "Sergeant Rorski," she said between booms. "There's a ton of food in the house. Help yourself."

He simply nodded and faced the fireworks display. It wasn't long before it appeared to be in its finale stage when several fireworks went up at one time.

A few minutes later Buck was running across the cul-de-sac and grinning from ear to ear. He was greeted with a rousing round of applause.

Sergeant Rorski stood with hands on hips. "Do you have your paperwork, Buck?"

He removed a paper from his back pocket and said, "I sure do, Sergeant."

After looking over the license, he addressed Jackie. "Come down to the station in the morning. I need you to run a photo of the murdered girl."

"Why?" I asked. "I thought your investigators had this all but sewn up."

"Those two knuckleheads found Sherry Clarke's parents all right, but it didn't go well when they were informed Sherry was murdered - probably by her pimp. Especially since Sherry is a junior in high school and spending the holiday with a girlfriend."

I saw Jackie put her hand over her mouth to conceal a smile. "I'll be there first thing in the morning," she said.

He turned to Pepper and asked, "Any pie left?"

She flashed a smile my way before saying, "Jo ate the last piece of blueberry, but I think there's apple and peach." She led the Sergeant through the garage and into the house.

Peach pie sounded like a good way to end the night. I left Stewie and his sweaty hands behind and headed for the kitchen.

Chapter Five

"Good morning. Buxley Mortgage. May I help you?"

There was no enthusiasm in my voice. The boss was out for the week, my co-workers were immersed in paperwork, and the insurance office next door was closed. There would be no schmoozing with the guys over there today. I was bored out of my mind, and so far, my eyes had been closed more than they were open.

"Mr. McCray is out of the office until next week. May I take a message?"

I hoped there wouldn't be a message. It was too much of an effort to write words on paper. I felt like I had a hangover. Not from beer, but from sugar. My lack of energy was startling.

After filling out the pink _While You Were Out_ form, I dragged myself into the break room for a third cup of coffee. It was only ten thirty, and it was going to be a brutally long day if I couldn't stop yawning every few minutes.

A box of donuts was open on the table. I poured a cup of coffee, grabbed the newspaper from the counter, and sat down to consider the sweet treats. I wondered who brought them in. There were never donuts in the break room. Brian McCray was into all things healthy and didn't believe in eating sugar. According to him, it was _poison to the body_. He would have a conniption if he knew they were here.

I selected a chocolate glazed beauty and set it on a napkin.

The first bite was wonderful, and I let out a loud hmmm sound of approval. I devoured the donut and licked chocolate from my fingertips before sipping my coffee and opening the folded paper. The front page took me by surprise. The headline read, _Do You Know Her? Police Ask for Help in Identifying Murdered Woman_. A picture of the very dead Ruby Rosewell appeared under the headline.

I assumed Doug beat Jackie to the punch, but the by-line was Jackie's. She must have talked with Sergeant Rorski last night and worked late to get the article in today's edition.

The picture was one taken by the photographer at the construction site. It had been cropped to show only her face, but because it was black and white, and shot from a slight angle under her chin, the picture didn't look like Ruby at all. There was no way this was going to help solve her murder.

"What are you reading?"

I looked up to see Stewie standing in the doorway. Watching from doorways was apparently his thing. I tossed the paper across the table and said, "Jackie put Ruby's picture on the front page. Maybe they'll get some leads, but I doubt it. It doesn't even look like her."

He studied the picture for a few moments. "Nope. I've never seen her before."

I snickered. "Well, why would you? Do you find yourself in need of a prostitute often?"

He didn't appear to find humor in the question.

"Jo, listen. I think we've been on the wrong foot lately. I like you. I'd like to get to know you better. How about giving me another chance? Let me take you out for dinner this Saturday. We'll make it casual and go early. I'll pick you up around six."

Hmmm. Stewie. Dinner on Saturday. I didn't know what it was about him that turned me off, but I definitely didn't sense any chemistry between us. On the other hand, maybe I wasn't being fair. He wasn't unattractive, and he was likable at times.

He tried to seal the deal. "I brought the donuts for you today."

Mystery solved. After watching me eat so many desserts yesterday, he knew playing to my sweet tooth was a good move on his part. "Brian would fire you if he knew you brought donuts in here."

He laughed. "I'm not worried, and you have until next Monday to eat them all."

I couldn't help but smile.

We lapsed into small talk. I finally said, "Dinner on Saturday sounds nice."

When I returned to my desk, I was desperate to find something to occupy my time. I organized my middle desk drawer. I made labels for folders. I shopped online for bras. If Pepper and I were going to lose weight, my boobs would get smaller, and I would probably need new bras. I switched from bras to books. I surfed free books to download. To date, I had over two thousand books downloaded onto the company computer, but I hadn't read any of them. I had plenty of time to read at work, but the few times I tried, I had fallen asleep with my hand under my chin. It was pointless to continue to download books, but I enjoyed reading blurbs and looking at covers.

"Jo, I have to run down to the courthouse. Do you have time to enter an application?"

Only four employees staffed our small office. Barb, a sweet woman in her late fifties, took applications and pulled credit reports. Stewie handled paperwork from appraisers, insurers, and the title company. Brian, our manager, was the primary contact between approved applicants, agents, and lenders in getting to a smooth closing.

It was Barb who was asking for help now.

"I'd be happy to," I told her. "Anything to stay awake."

Her smile was sympathetic as she left the office. She knew how much I hated the boredom of the front desk job.

I opened the template for the application and began slotting in the information from the handwritten worksheet. This was a young couple buying their first home. They were both twenty-four with steady employment since high school. The husband was a highway maintenance worker making forty-seven thousand dollars a year. The wife was a hairdresser in Patterson making sixty thousand a year in salary and tips.

Her wages flabbergasted me. I instantly regretted not finding a way to go to college. Pepper had gone on a partial scholarship, but Mama said I should just get a job and work my way up from the bottom somewhere. I had taken a few continuing education classes at our local branch of Kent State University, but the classes were basic office classes for working with documents and spreadsheets. Fourteen years later, here I was stuck in yet another boring, dead-end job. I had no idea going to beauty school could have enabled me to make so much money while styling hair and designing art on fingernails.

Thinking of fingernails brought Ruby to mind again. I needed to check salons in the area to see if anyone recognized the pattern on her nails.

I quickly finished the application and started an online search. There were five hair salons in Buxley. Four more were located near the mall between Buxley and Patterson. I counted seventeen within the Patterson city limits.

I walked back to Stewie's office and stuck my head through the doorway. "I'm taking an early lunch. Would you mind answering the telephone until Barb gets back? It's been quiet, so it probably won't even ring."

He barely looked up from his paperwork while throwing a "sure" in my direction. I raced out of the office before he could change his mind.

Heat and humidity blasted me when I stepped out onto the sidewalk, but I didn't mind. It felt good to be out of the office, and the hot sun felt wonderful on my face. Tammy's Hair and Nails was only three blocks away, and I knew I would enjoy the walk.

By the time I pushed the salon door open, I was sweating, my hips hurt, and I was out of breath. I sat in the nearest empty chair and put my head on my knees.

"Are you ok?"

I looked up into the concerned face of a woman wearing a yellow smock. I nodded but the feeling of lightheadedness was still with me.

"Can I get you some water?" she asked.

"Yeah. I think that might help," I said as I lowered my head again.

What was wrong with me? Was I so out of shape I couldn't walk three lousy blocks? It probably had something to do with the sugar overload the past two days. I would have to find some real food soon.

The woman brought a bottle of water. I chugged it. My heart rate slowed, and I started to feel better in the cool salon. I suddenly felt sheepish.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I haven't been eating right lately, and I walked three blocks to get here. With the hot sun, I think it was all too much."

She took the empty water bottle and asked, "How can I help you? Do you have an appointment?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm looking for a nail technician." I pulled my phone from my purse and accessed the photo of Ruby's manicured hand. "Do you recognize this? Do you know who might do this style of nail?"

"That's a common design," she said. "I do all the nails here, and I've done quite a few like that myself. I can do it for you if you'd like."

"Maybe another time," I said. "Right now, I'm trying to find out who might have done the nails on this particular girl. Do you recall doing this recently in these colors?"

She studied the photograph more closely. "No, I don't think so. When was the picture taken?"

"Last Saturday."

"It definitely wasn't me."

I thanked the woman and left the shop. Rather than to risk heatstroke walking back to the office, I crossed the street and entered Mama Rosie's Pizza Emporium.

The restaurant was new in town, and this was my first visit. A sign directed me to seat myself, so I chose a corner booth.

Dimmed lighting and more than adequate air conditioning made the dining room comfortable. I pulled a menu from between a bottle of Parmesan cheese and one of hot pepper flakes. No wonder they called this place an emporium. They served pizza, soups, salads, stromboli, calzones, hero sandwiches, pasta, and seafood. When my waitress arrived, I ordered the chicken pizzaiola with peppers and marinara sauce. That should take care of my body's need for something other than sugar.

While I waited, I contemplated the information I knew about Ruby again. If I wanted to be serious about becoming a private investigator, I would have to concentrate harder on the details of her murder. It was obvious the Buxley police weren't making any headway, so I needed to come up with a plan. Canvassing more salons would be my top priority. I couldn't start tonight, because Pepper and I were going to Figure Perfect. I would have to take some more time off work. I already planned to skip out on Friday to go to Marietta with Pepper and the kids, so I might as well call off tomorrow, too.

The thought raised my spirits.

My food arrived. The huge portion astonished me. There was enough for lunch and supper, too, but I devoured every delicious morsel. The waitress didn't say anything, but she didn't mask her surprise at my empty plate. If I had been thin, she wouldn't have batted an eye, but I noticed more and more, at my heavier weight, people didn't always hide their disdain by my food consumption. There was a lot to be said for take-out and eating at home.

While I was looking over my bill and calculating the tip, Stewie walked into the restaurant with a well-dressed man in a suit. I didn't recognize the man as one of our clients. They chose a booth near the front door and immediately engaged in a spirited discussion. I couldn't tell if it was friendly or contentious.

Now I had a dilemma. Should I stop and say hello, or simply walk out and pretend I didn't see them. After leaving money on the table, I approached the two men.

"Hi, Stewart," I said. He knew I had already made it a habit to call him Stewie, but I gave him the courtesy of using his formal name in front of his guest. I paused to give him an opportunity to say hello and introduce me, but he did neither, and both men simply stared at me. I became flustered by his lack of manners and said lamely, "I had a great lunch. Try the chicken pizzaiola."

The man with Stewie showed obvious irritation by my interruption. Stewie was curt. "I've been here before. It's a nice restaurant. I'll see you later, Jo."

I barely uttered a good-bye before dashing out the door. The encounter was extremely uncomfortable, and I didn't understand Stewie's rudeness.

The walk back to the office wasn't nearly as unpleasant as the initial walk to the salon, and I arrived with minimal perspiration. Stewie was friendly when he came back to the office, but I pretended to be wrapped in work. His attitude at the restaurant made me angry with myself for agreeing to go out with him on Saturday.

I spent the rest of my afternoon searching online for information to become a private investigator. I was discouraged to see college classes in criminology took four years to obtain a degree. That wasn't my plan. I wanted to pay a fee, take a test, and get right to work. The only other way to become a private investigator was through on-the-job experience under a mentor. I'd have to ask Jackie about that. And I'd need a gun.

~ ~ ~

My core temperature was rising as the sun beat down on my head. I knew if I didn't go home before too long, I might have another episode like the one I experienced at lunchtime.

So far, I had walked back and forth across half the construction site, and so far, there was nothing to see but dirt and rocks. The police didn't find any evidence here, but I wouldn't be convinced until I checked for myself.

I spotted a piece of paper sticking out from under a rock, but upon further investigation, it turned out to be a piece of plastic. _Leave no stone unturned_ ran through my mind. I couldn't help chuckling at the thought. Turning over every stone in the construction site would take the better part of a year. I quickened my pace. My neck and back ached.

Being a private investigator wouldn't be exciting all the time. I knew there would be tedious tasks like the one I was doing now, and late-night stakeouts might be boring. What if I couldn't stay awake? I used to eat on long trips to keep from dozing, but eating on stakeouts would probably pack on the pounds fast. And running! What if I had to chase a suspect? He'd be long gone before I was barely able to manage a jog. I definitely needed to get in shape.

A honking horn brought me back to reality. I looked up to see I was only a few feet from the roadway. I didn't know who honked as they drove by, but I threw my arm up in the air to wave anyway. There was no reason to be unfriendly.

The cars reminded me again that Ruby had been brought here from another location. It dawned on me that there probably weren't any clues in the site itself, but maybe there were some along the roadway where the vehicle had parked.

I climbed up the grade and alongside the road. As I searched for clues, I endured several more honking horns. I threw my arm up with every honk. I didn't want to be in the grocery store next week and have Mrs. Murgatroyd from Faye's Dry Cleaning complain, "I saw you walking along the road, and I honked. Why didn't you wave?"

There was very little trash. The local jail used the current crop of prisoners as cleanup crews on the weekends, and they did a nice job of collecting trash right down to cigarette butts. I checked the entire grassy area between the road and the site. There was nothing of interest. That left the temporary dirt road made by the construction company along the eastern edge of the site. It made more sense that someone might have parked there to remove a body unseen. I started my walk up the road and looked carefully along both sides.

I was nearly to the end when I spotted a crumpled fast food bag lodged in a tuft of weeds. It was the first large piece of trash I had come across. A worker had likely tossed it there, but it was still something to inspect. I picked up the bag and tore it open to dump the contents on the ground.

There was a wrapper from a sandwich and a container from fries. Everything else appeared to be trash from the owner's vehicle. I had used the technique many times myself and was familiar with quick car cleaning via fast food bags. I bypassed the candy bar wrappers, generic gas receipts, and the broken pen and went right to a piece of torn paper.

The paper was a diagonal section of the bottom half of a business card. The printing remaining on the card didn't offer any immediate clues. The only two letters that were from the business or the person's name were TS. The numbers 893 were likely from a telephone number, and the only part of the web address remaining was LS.COM.

It was improbable that any of this trash had come from the killer's vehicle, but what if the bag had fallen out when Ruby was moved? I didn't want to assume anything. I needed to keep an open mind and look at everything until I was sure it was nothing. I slipped the business card into my pocket and cut across the site toward home.

~ ~ ~

Pepper was excited to try out the machines at Figure Perfect, but I was less enthusiastic. I hated being overweight, but I hated the idea of working out more. I simply didn't enjoy exercising like I did when I was in shape.

We were on the north side of town in a small, unattractive building behind the city hospital. Brown kraft paper covered the windows to keep people walking by from peeking in at clientele. The inside wasn't wholly unpleasant. Fluorescent lighting illuminated every corner of the room. The smell of new carpet and fresh paint lingered in the air. A local country radio station was semi-blaring from a boom box.

Three large women were on machines along the back wall. I couldn't tell what the machines were doing, but the women were doing squats as they held onto small rails. I didn't want to do squats. Neither did my knees.

There was only one trainer on the floor. She was assisting a woman who was lying prone with her face through an opening in a table. The table was shaking the woman from head to foot.

Pepper and I checked in with a girl seated behind a small desk. We each paid an introductory price of nine dollars and ninety-nine cents for a month of unlimited visits. The girl then showed us small lockers for stowing our purses. We were smart to have come already dressed for the workout as there were no locker rooms.

"What now?" I asked.

Pepper scanned the room. "I don't know. I suppose we wait for the trainer."

The girl at the desk looked up from her magazine and said, "The machines are self-explanatory. You can try any of them until Suzy has time for you."

The three women moved from the squat machines to walk on treadmills. Pepper and I stood next to the machines closest to us - a treadmill and an old-fashioned vibrating machine with a belt. Pepper pushed me to use the vibrating belt machine.

"Just do it, Jo. It'll feel good, and it's supposed to work."

She couldn't be serious that this vibrating belt was going to shake my fat off. If the machines didn't work fifty years ago, why would they work now?

She laughed. "I'm not kidding. These machines are all the rage. Shaking really does take off weight. I'll start on the treadmill, and you start with this. You'll have your flab all jiggled and loose and ready for melting when you start sweating."

I reluctantly stood on the machine. It faced the row of treadmills. Pepper started a slow walk on her machine, but she had a huge grin on her face as she watched me position the belt slightly under my butt. I flipped the switch and every bit of flab on my body began jiggling at the same time. It was a more violent shaking than I expected, and I wished my bra gave me more support. Pepper started giggling uncontrollably.

One of the three women on the treadmills stared at us and rolled her eyes. I didn't know if she was rolling her eyes at me and my jiggling, or at Pepper and her laughing, or both. I restrained myself from saying something snarky to the woman and readjusted the belt across the biggest part of my butt. I leaned back again and allowed the machine to jiggle me from head to toe. I couldn't imagine it was doing anything substantial, but it felt good in a strange way.

"Ok. I'm jiggling," I said. "How long do you think I should do this?"

"More than sixty seconds," Pepper said and upped the speed on her treadmill. "Just keep jiggling."

After five minutes, my butt felt numb. The trainer reached in from behind me and flipped the switch to turn the machine off. The tingling sensation continued in my butt, and my legs felt rubbery.

"Hi ladies. I'm Suzy. Is this your first time here?"

We acknowledged we were newbies and introduced ourselves.

She placed her hand on the belt machine and said with a grin, "You won't be using this one. It's here to show what women used to endure compared to the technology we have today."

Swell. Pepper had talked me into using an obsolete machine that did nothing other than allow everyone to laugh at me. I refused to show my embarrassment and said, "I kind of liked it."

Pepper guffawed.

Suzy led the way to the new Platform Vibration Fitness machines. She demonstrated their use and left us alone to try them out while she helped another customer on the shaking table.

I started by simply standing in the center of the platform. The shaking wasn't nearly as intense as the heavy-duty belt machine, but I could immediately see how maintaining balance and doing some simple exercises on the platform would work muscles.

Pepper started right off with some squats. "Wow, these machines are great. This is so easy."

"It's better than I thought it would be," I admitted. "I'm willing to give it a try. At least for a month."

Pepper tried most of the moves Suzy had shown us. When she sat down on the shaking platform, she bolted right back up. Her eyes were wide as she said, "That should be illegal."

I tried several more exercises on the platform before moving to a treadmill. I wanted to take a brisk walk before calling it quits for the evening. On our way out, Suzy gave each of us a welcome kit that included brochures about the equipment and suggestions for healthy eating.

Pepper pulled out from behind the hospital and immediately drove to Chummy Burgers.

I was floored. "What are you doing? We just worked out. You aren't really going to get food are you?"

"I'm dying of thirst. I need something to drink. And a French fry. I need some carbs to replace the ones I just used. You do know, don't you, that Michael Phelps used to eat twelve thousand calories a day when he trained for the Olympics?"

"He did not. That was a myth."

"Well, he ate a lot. You have to eat after you work out. You have to fuel the fat burning."

I didn't believe her. "Pepper, you're killing me here."

She leaned her head out the window to yell into the speaker, "I want two chocolate shakes and two French fries."

"What are you doing tomorrow?" I asked her.

"Nothing. Probably some laundry. Why?"

"I want to go to some hair salons and look for whoever might have done Ruby's nails."

"I can go, but I'll have to bring Kelly along. Keith will be at a friend's house for the day, and I don't want Kelly staying home alone."

"She's ten," I said. "She can stay home alone." Pepper frowned. I could tell she wasn't going to budge. I relented. "I don't care if she comes, but it might be a problem if we get a good lead. We can't take her into strip clubs."

"No strip clubs tomorrow, Jo. Let's just do salons. If anything good comes up, you can follow it up on your own or with Jackie."

Pepper paid for our order and handed the cups and the bag of food over to me. Both milkshakes were vanilla. Inside the bag was an order of fried mushrooms and a cheeseburger. I wolfed down the cheeseburger. I'd be shaking it off soon enough.

Pepper dropped me at the bottom of my driveway. A hot shower was going to feel especially good after the massive sweating I'd done when walking at lunchtime, walking at the construction site, and walking yet again at Figure Perfect. I'd probably have to scrub my armpits three times as much as usual.

~ ~ ~

Comfortable in an old terrycloth robe, and shuffling around in my fuzzy orange slippers, I crashed on the sofa to watch an episode of _CSI: New York_. Of course, I had seen it before, but now that I planned to be a private investigator, I wanted to pay more attention to how the detectives solved their cases.

Just as a buzzard dropped an eyeball on Manhattan, the red phone rang. I jumped in my seat. I had plugged the telephone back into the wall yesterday morning, but this was the first it had rung since the heavy breather Monday night.

I answered it with some hesitation. "Two Sisters and a Journalist."

"Ruby was pregnant."

It was Jackie with the bombshell.

"Wait a minute," I said trying to wrap my mind around the information. "How do you know?"

"Howard and an elderberry pie. I stopped down at the morgue to see him this afternoon, and he said she was at seventeen weeks, so she definitely knew she was pregnant."

"Maybe there really was a pimp. Do you think he killed her?"

"No, I don't. Pimps don't kill. They abort. Something else is going on. I talked with Sergeant Rorski, but he said they don't have the manpower to investigate beyond Buxley. He thinks someone will eventually look for her, and that's how they'll find her family. After Walker and Butler messed up the notification with Sherry Clarke's family, the sergeant isn't willing to put any more money behind her murder, and I guess the mayor is backing him on his decision."

I hadn't yet told Jackie or Pepper about my dreams. If we were going to look deeper into her murder, it was time to share the information.

"Ruby has been coming to me in my dreams," I told her. I held my breath while I waited for her response.

"Are you sure? Do you think it's your subconscious mind, or do you really think it's her? Dreams can be weird things."

"I think it's her," I said. "These aren't normal dreams. When I have them, it's like she's reaching out to me."

We were both silent for a few moments. Jackie finally said, "My grandmother visited me in dreams for a year after her death. Then one day, she told me she had to move on. I never dreamed of her again. No matter what anyone says, I know I was visiting with my grandmother."

We lapsed into silence again. The hair on the back of my neck stood up a little as I had the thought that Jackie and I should get our hands on a Ouija board. We could get her grandmother and Ruby together for a chat.

Jackie asked, "What did Ruby tell you?"

"She said her name was Paula, and she was poisoned by soup."

"But the autopsy is complete, and we know she wasn't poisoned. Did she specifically say poison?"

"No. I think her exact words were, 'The soup killed me.'"

"Close enough," she said. "But that doesn't have anything to do with her stabbing, and the girl at the bar said her name was Charlotte, so Paula's not right either. Was there anything else?"

"She showed me a newspaper from Marietta. The headline was about record attendance at some ancient burial site. It made no sense. I'm going with Pepper and the kids to Marietta on Friday, so I'm going to keep my eyes open."

"It can't hurt to look around while you're there," she said. "Make sure you take a picture of Ruby with you."

"I will. Pepper and I are going to canvass nail salons tomorrow to see if we can find the person who did Ruby's nails. Cross your fingers for us."

"My fingers are crossed, and I'll let you know if I find out anything else."

We said our goodbyes, and I crashed back onto the sofa to resume my scrutiny of the detectives and the stray eyeball in New York City.
Chapter Six

My heart was ready to explode. My lungs were devoid of oxygen. Cars raced by, and horns honked. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I died. Fear kept me running, but I continually looked over my shoulder for the tangerine car. I knew it would be the one to kill me. An eighteen-wheeler narrowly missed me. I was thrown off balance and slammed to the road. Skin peeled from my arms and legs as I skidded wildly on the pavement.

I closed my eyes and waited for death. I heard a car screech to a stop. A car door opened then slammed shut. Pain and fear were intense. I refused to open my eyes. I didn't want to see who stood beside me.

A kick to my gut brought more pain. My eyes instinctively flew open. The tangerine car was blocking both lanes of the highway. Standing over me was Paula herself. "Get up," she commanded. "Quit wasting time. You need to hurry. Margie will help you." She drew her foot back to deliver another blow to my body. I threw my arms over my head and screamed.

The lightweight blanket on my bed had wrapped itself around my body as if I had tussled with it. My hair and t-shirt were soaked with sweat.

I felt sick to my stomach from the dream and was barely able to lurch into the bathroom in time to bend over the toilet. It was only dry heaves, but the retching was intense. I finally slumped to the floor.

I held my stomach as I called out, "Paula. Please. No more dreams. I can't do this. Tell me what happened to you or leave me alone. I don't know what these dreams mean."

I rested my head on my knees.

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I stripped down for a shower. My legs felt weak and sore as if I really had been running down the highway. The thought frightened me until I remembered using the machines at Figure Perfect the night before. The stupid shaking machines had actually worked my muscles.

By the time I showered and dressed, it was shortly after eight o'clock. I called the office to tell Barb I woke up vomiting and wouldn't be in for the day. I didn't feel guilty, because it was basically the truth.

After making coffee, I carried a cup to the murder room and sat in the desk chair to study the whiteboard. The last time I had perused it was Tuesday morning. Now there was more information to add.

Using a red marker, I wrote: _Ruby was pregnant_. I underlined it three times for emphasis. If she was a prostitute, the baby's father could be any of her johns or her pimp. If she wasn't a prostitute, there was someone she was close enough with to become pregnant by. Would he be looking for her? Or did he kill her?

I grabbed the piece of business card from the desk and attached it to the board next to my drawing of the three mounds of dirt.

In the corner with the dream information, I wrote: _Margie will help me_.

Margie. Who was she? How could she help me if I didn't have a clue who she was or where I could find her? And what was with Paula being so violent and telling me to hurry?

I glanced at my watch. It wasn't even eight thirty yet. Pepper and Kelly weren't expecting me until one. I grabbed a load of laundry and headed for the basement.

The basement was divided with a finished room on one side, laundry and storage on the other. Both rooms were bright and unthreatening. The basement at Mama's house was one to give you nightmares. I used to cringe with fear when she would send me down to get canned tomatoes from the fruit cellar. I fell on the steps more than once while running out of the basement. I always felt the evil eyes of whatever lurked in the shadows boring into my back as I ran. Mama was never sympathetic and thought it was funny I was so frightened.

After starting the washing machine, I slipped outside to grab the newspaper. It was already hot, but the humidity was lower today. That would make for a much nicer excursion this afternoon. I opened the paper to check the headlines, but the entire front page was coverage of the Pioneer Festival over in Patterson.

I grabbed another cup of coffee and a bagel before heading to the living room to watch television. I had no idea what was on at this time of day, but I was soon bewitched by a woman making sandwiches in an electric sandwich maker. She made grilled cheese sandwiches, breakfast wedges, and pizza pockets. I was especially spellbound when she made apple pies out of bread and pie filling. I was ready to grab a credit card and order one when the red phone rang. I guessed it would be Pepper to confirm our time for the afternoon.

"Two Sisters and a Journalist," I said cheerfully.

I heard a squeaking noise on the other end followed by a soft click. There was no heavy breathing. Nothing was said. It had to be a wrong number. Thankfully, the call broke the sandwich maker spell, and I no longer wanted to order one. A bread pie sounded terrible when Jackie's amazing pies could be had for a simple _pretty please_.

I surfed channels until coming across an episode of _Criminal Minds_. I slumped down farther on the sofa and leaned my head back. I was only able to watch the profilers make their case against the man they thought was a serial killer for a few minutes before my eyes were closed, and I drifted back to sleep.

The red phone ringing jarred me from sleep, and I felt disoriented. I knew it wasn't the weekend. Why wasn't I at work?

I staggered over to the phone and slurred into the handset, "Two Sisers and a Jurnist."

Pepper laughed. "What's wrong with you? Are you still sleeping?"

I struggled to shake the cobwebs. "I was up and doing laundry, but I fell back to sleep. What time is it?"

"It's twelve thirty. We're ready. Do you want to come over and go now?"

Had I really been asleep for over three hours? It felt like three minutes. The local noon news was just going over on the television. An advertisement for an upcoming soap opera came on.

"Sure. Now's good. But give me a few minutes to use the bathroom and throw clothes into the dryer."

I dashed downstairs to take care of the laundry, and I dashed upstairs to change my shirt and freshen up. For as miserable as I had been earlier, the extra sleep without dreams of Paula was welcome, and I felt more energetic.

Before going downstairs, I took one last look at the whiteboard. I wanted to have all of the information fresh in my mind before talking to people in salons. I turned to leave the room, but the name Margie seemed to stand out on the board. I stared at it for a moment and then said aloud, "Who is Margie?"

It was suddenly so clear in my mind, it was almost as if I had heard the words spoken aloud. _She's Ruby's nail artist_.

I rushed to open my laptop and pull up a browser. I searched salons in Buxley again - Family Hair, Danny's Hair Salon, Only Hair, George's House of Style, and Cut Me Quick. There were a few smaller salons, but none advertising a nail technician. Toni's Cuts, Maxwell's Magnificent Cuts, Betty's Beauty Salon, and Kidz Klips were out by the mall. I searched the salons in Patterson. There were some creative names - Lofty Hair, The Fringe Lunatic, and Choppers.

My heart quickened when I held the cursor over a small dot on the east side of town. Margaret's Nail Confections. Margaret. This was it. I could feel it. I scribbled the address on a post-it.

I was practically jumping for joy as I ran across the cul-de-sac to Pepper's. Kelly was waiting on the porch.

"Why are you so happy?" she asked.

"I know just where we're going," I said. "We're all getting our nails done today, and I'm treating."

Pepper stepped out and locked the door behind her. "Really? You're treating? What's the occasion?"

"I have a hunch that I think is going to pay off big time. We're going to the same nail salon Ruby went to."

"The dead girl?" Kelly asked.

"Your Aunt Jo is trying to find out who killed her. The police don't have a clue, and since Aunt Jo wants to become a private investigator, she's going to try to solve the murder. Jackie and I are helping."

"Like you did with that guy in Kentucky who killed Aunt Jo's boyfriend?"

Pepper nodded.

"He wasn't my boyfriend. It was a first date, and I never got a chance to meet him."

"Ok," Kelly said. "I want to help, too. What can I do?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "How about if when we get our nails done, you do some eavesdropping."

Pepper flashed a dirty look my way and said emphatically, "Eavesdropping is not acceptable."

I rolled my eyes. "Ok, I won't use the word eavesdropping." I turned back to Kelly. "When you're getting your nails done, pay attention. If you hear anything or see anything you think might be important, try to remember it." I looked at Pepper. "How was that?"

She shook her head, but I saw her smile before walking to the car.

Excitement coursed through my body as I programmed the address into Pepper's dashboard GPS. There were times when my instincts were dead on, and this felt like one of those times. I knew we wouldn't be going home empty-handed today.

Kelly had her own excitement brewing. "Can I get skulls on my nails? Jessica Beiber has black polish with white skulls and it looks sick."

Pepper nearly twisted her head around exorcist style to frown at her. "No. Absolutely not. You can get a manicure with a light color of polish. No skulls."

Kelly's whine voice was quick to surface. "Why? Everyone else has cool nails, but mine are always plain."

Before Pepper could explain her rationale for not wanting her daughter to have goth fingernails, I intervened. "Let's discuss this when we get there. There will probably be a ton of designs to choose from, and we can decide when we see them."

The tension cleared, and Pepper asked, "How do you know this is the place Ruby went to? I thought we were going to look in Buxley first."

"She told me."

Kelly squealed from the back seat. "What? You talked to the dead girl? Ew!"

Pepper frowned again. "What are you talking about?"

"I've had a few dreams about Ruby, and she gives me information." To keep Pepper from giving me a hard time for divulging too much in front of Kelly, I kept the details to a minimum. "I had one last night, and she said Margie would help me. That's why we're going to Margaret's Nail Confections. I want to show her a picture of Ruby's manicure and see if she recognizes it."

"Awesome," Kelly exclaimed. "Wait until I tell my friends about this. My aunt talks to dead people. Can you do readings for us?"

I laughed, but Pepper's frown deepened.

"I'm not a psychic, Kelly, and the dreams might not mean anything other than that I have an overactive imagination." I glanced at Pepper. She was trying to pay attention to the road while at the same time throwing incredulous looks my way. "But I have to find out if there really is a Margie and if she can help us find out who Ruby is."

"When did you start dreaming about her?" Pepper asked.

"The first time was the night I found her. I saw her in a strip club. She said her name was Paula."

"But the girl at the bar said her name was Charlotte. Which is it?"

"I don't know. The information in my dreams doesn't match up with the facts we're finding out, but I'm not ready to throw them out yet."

"This is so cool," Kelly said. "You and mom can star in a reality television show. The cameras will film you while you solve crimes. We'll all be famous."

She pulled out her cell phone and started taking a video of Pepper and me in the front seat. I smiled and gave her the peace sign.

"Day one," she said. "Mom and Aunt Jo are hot on the trail of Margie, the woman who did the nails of the dead prostitute named Ruby. Aunt Jo, show everyone the picture of her nails."

I pulled out my phone and brought up the photo of her hand.

"From this photo alone, Aunt Jo and my mom are going to prove who murdered Ruby." Kelly held the phone closer to my head. "Tell everyone how you're going to do that, Aunt Jo."

"Well, we're going to ask the nail technician when she last saw her, what her real name is, who she was dating, and if she knows who the father of the baby is."

"What?" Pepper exclaimed. "She was pregnant? You didn't tell me that."

"Jackie told me last night."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I forgot until just now. She was seventeen weeks, so she had to know she was pregnant. I bet she told the father, and he killed her."

Kelly was still taping from the back seat. "Why do you think the nail person will tell you all those things?"

"Because when people get their hair and nails done, they have to run their mouths and tell every detail of their personal lives. It's the law," I said.

"Kelly, put your phone away," Pepper said. She glanced over at me. "We shouldn't be talking about this in front of her."

"Mom! You let me watch Jersey Shore. I know about pregnant girls and douchebag guys."

Pepper did the exorcist thing again with her head. "Kelly, watch your mouth and put your phone away. That's enough for now."

I grimaced at Kelly, but my eyes were smiling.

"Stop at the McDonald's in Patterson," I said. "I'm hungry. I'll buy your lunches, too. I think I can write lunches off on my taxes. We're technically on the job while we investigate Ruby's murder." I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen out of my purse. "I should start keeping track of everything. How many miles have we gone so far? What's the mileage right now?"

Pepper laughed. "You can't deduct our lunches, and you can't write off mileage from my car. You can't do anything with expenses until you're licensed. You'll need an accountant. Use Buck's. He's good, and he'll tell you what you can and can't do."

I wrote on my paper, _Talk to Buck about his accountant_. Below that, I wrote, _Ask Jackie about a mentor - and a gun_. I shoved both pen and paper back into my purse.

"A McRib sounds good for lunch," I said. "I've never had one. Have you?"

Pepper chuckled. "No, but Buck and Keith act like it's Christmas when they get them."

"McRibs are gross," Kelly said. "The meat is spongy and weird. You can't get one now anyway. They don't have them in the summer."

"Since when?" I asked.

"Since always. You can only get them when it's cold. Besides, I thought you guys were on diets."

Pepper gave her a disapproving look in the rear-view mirror. "We're not on diets. We're just working out and trying to eat healthier."

"Ok, nix the McRib," I said. "I really do want to eat healthier and quit eating so much junk. I should probably have a salad for lunch. Are we going to shake our booties again tonight?"

"Yes," Pepper said. "Mama's coming over to stay with the kids while I'm gone. Let's go around seven."

~ ~ ~

Margaret's Nail Confections was a surprise. The business was in the front portion of a two-story house. Bright green stairs and a bright green porch led to a bright green door. A pink and yellow striped awning flapped above the porch. A large window to the left of the door sported a whipped cream design with _Margaret's Nail Confections_ in a curvy pink and yellow font. Elaborate nail designs covered a smaller window to the right.

Electricity shot through my body. This was the kind of excitement and nervousness I'd only ever felt when waiting for a first date to show up – when I was a teenager. I knew I was minutes away from finding out Ruby's true identity.

Pepper opened the door, and we filed in.

My excitement was promptly extinguished. There was no activity in the salon. None. There were no employees or customers. There was no Margie.

"Hello?" Pepper called out.

The large room was clean and tidy. A desk with a laptop sat unattended near the front door. The rest of the room was set up with five nail stations - three on one side of the room and two on the other. The lighted sign on the door clearly indicated the business was open.

"Hey! Anybody here?" Kelly yelled.

Pepper shushed her. "If no one comes in another minute, we should leave," she said.

There was no way I was leaving. I parked myself at one of the stations to wait. A few moments later, a door at the back of the room opened, and a girl entered. She had wicked long purple fingernails that appeared wrapped around a can of cola with a straw bobbing in it. From experience, I knew the straw would soon be out of the can and onto the floor.

"Sorry, ladies," she said. "I was in the kitchen. How can I help you?"

"We'd like to have our nails done," Pepper said.

The girl set the can down on the desk. The straw bobbed out and rolled onto the floor. I smiled.

"Most of our technicians work by appointment only, but Keri will be back shortly. Let me make a couple of calls to see if any of the other girls are available." She pointed to the back of the room. "If you go through that door, you'll find the kitchen and the bathroom. Help yourself to soda or coffee while you wait."

I remained seated at the nail station while Pepper and Kelly went in search of drinks. It was fascinating to watch the girl push numbers on the phone with her freakish nails.

"Franny, we have three together. Can you come over for one?" She waited for a response. "Ok. Thanks"

She dialed again. And again. She dialed a third time.

"We have three. I need one more." She paused. "You're the last." Another pause. "Ok. See you soon."

She smiled and said, "You're all covered. Do you have designs in mind?"

I shook my head. "We don't. We thought you might have books we could look through."

She pointed to a shelf of photo albums. "Each technician has a portfolio of work they've done. You can look through those to see if there's something you like, or you can come up with a design of your own."

Pepper and Kelly came back into the room with cans of diet cola. We sat together at the small station and flipped through the books. After Kelly said _ew_ for the umpteenth time, and Pepper shushed her for the umpteenth time, we opened a book with normal nails and pretty art.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout," Kelly said pointing to a dragon spread across five nails. "Ooh," she squealed, "this is even better." She pointed to black nails with a pink and white Hello Kitty design on them.

"I can live with that," Pepper said. "If that's what you want, go ahead and get it."

"What do you like?" I asked Pepper.

She grabbed one of the books we had already looked through and opened to the back. "I think I'm going to go with this. White polish, black dots and red hearts."

"That's cute," I said with a nod of approval.

"What are you going to get, Aunt Jo?"

I pulled out my phone and brought up Ruby's hand. "I'm getting this."

Pepper shook her head. Kelly said, "Ew."

A girl in tight jeans and a tank top bustled through the front door. Her arms were loaded down with plastic bags from the local grocery store. Purple Fingernails jumped up to take the bags from her and said, "Three walk-ins. They know what they want. Yours is the kid."

"Hi," she said to all of us. "I'm Keri." She looked at Kelly and the portfolio in front of her. "I guess you're with me today. What did you find?"

Kelly told the girl her name and pointed to the Hello Kitty design.

"I love that one," she said. "Come on over here and have a seat."

Pepper and I waited for our technicians to show up.

"Jo, you're going out with Stewart on Saturday. Why don't you get your nails done in a way that will make you feel good and that you can enjoy for a while? The tangerine color isn't right for you. You need a bright red."

Maybe she was right. I had seen a blood red color with black tips and a thin black line below the tip. It was sophisticated, but also had a fun flair.

Two women came into the room at the same time, one from the kitchen area and one through the front door. They introduced themselves, and Pepper and I indicated the designs we had chosen. Upbeat music erupted from speakers, and we were all finally settled with our hands in front of us on tables.

There was no Margie or Margaret in sight. The woman doing Pepper's nails was Franny, and the woman doing my nails was Bertie. Bertie was a large woman with sparkling eyes and an unrestrained laugh. She was wearing a muumuu and flip-flops. Her hair was tucked under a bandana. She went right to work cutting and filing my nails. She worked fast, but she talked faster.

"I was right in the middle of defrosting and cleaning the freezer when Missy called and said we were swamped, and I needed to rush right over to help out. I dropped everything and ran out the door."

I held back a laugh. Purple Fingernails, who I now knew was Missy, barely said two words when she called for help. I somehow missed the swamped and rush right over part.

Bertie barely stopped talking long enough to take a breath. "I shouldn't put anything in that old freezer in the first place. It's out in the garage, and once something ends up in there, it's out of sight, out of mind. There was deer meat from when Junior went hunting years ago. I suppose I'll cook it up for the dogs. I had to throw out all the pork in the bottom. It had terrible freezer burn. Why do you suppose that happens? I nearly died when I found Snowball in there. I thought my husband buried that poor old cat last year. It was winter and the ground was frozen when he died, so he wrapped him up and put him in the freezer. I thought Junior buried him in the spring, but when I opened that package marked cake and found Snowball, I nearly crapped my pants."

Kelly let out a laugh. The other employees didn't react and kept working. They were probably used to Bertie providing the entertainment.

"Have you ever had an accident like that?" she asked. "Boy, I have. Both times in Walmart. I've written letters to management that they need more than one restroom in a big store like that, but nobody ever wrote me back. Junior just started this year with the walking farts. He'll get up from his chair, and with every step he takes, he toots. He says he can't help it, but I think he does it on purpose because he likes it, and it makes company laugh."

I was careful not to make eye contact with Pepper. I knew if we looked at each other, there would be no way I could continue to hold back explosive laughter.

It took nearly two hours, and several more bodily function stories from Bertie, before we were done, but all three of us were delighted with our finished looks. I stood in front of Missy's desk and waited for the bill.

"That'll be one hundred and sixty-four dollars," she said.

I nearly fell over. It had been a long time since I'd had my nails done professionally, but I figured our nails, including the art, wouldn't be more than seventy-five dollars for the three of us.

"Here, Jo," Pepper said. She leaned over to pick up her purse. "Let me pay for Kelly and me. You can get your own."

I quickly recovered. "No, I have it. I promised to treat today." I pulled my one and only credit card from my wallet.

"Well then, let me leave the tip," Pepper said. Before I could argue, she was handing cash to each technician.

Before leaving the salon, I asked, "Does the owner come in often?"

"Didn't I tell you? This is my shop," Bertie said. "I don't do nails as often as I used to, but when we get busy, I come over and help out."

My mouth must have been hanging open, because Bertie said, "I don't usually dress like this when I work, but you know, I was cleaning the freezer."

I smiled. "It's not that. It's your name. Are you Margaret?"

"I sure am. Born a Margaret and went by Margie my whole life until I got married. Junior called me Big Bertha until he finally shortened it to Bertie, and that's how everyone knows me now."

I pulled my phone out and showed her the picture of Ruby's hand. "Do you recognize this design? Did you or someone here do this?"

"That's a popular look, but I remember this color. Wasn't this from that wedding party two weeks ago?" She looked to the other girls for confirmation.

Missy said, "It was the Bristol party. Carol Bristol. They booked the bride and five bridesmaids. They all had the same design done."

"Do you have the names of the bridesmaids?" I asked.

Missy shook her head. "We book wedding parties under the bride's name only. Even if the girls told the technicians their names, chances are they wouldn't remember them."

"Why do you want to know?" Bertie asked.

"This girl was murdered last Saturday. The police don't have any leads. They think she was a prostitute from Pittsburgh who went by the name of Ruby. I'm trying to find out who she really was so her family can be notified."

Bertie put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, how terrible. The poor girl."

"Are you a police officer?" Missy asked.

Kelly piped up. "No, but she and my mom are going to have a reality TV show and solve crimes. They're going to solve this one, because the police don't care about prostitutes."

Pepper gave Kelly a big shush.

"I'm not a police officer," I said, "but I'm going to be a private investigator. I found the body at a construction site in Buxley. The police have run into a dead end and don't intend to pursue it further, so with the help of my sister here and a journalist friend, we're trying to find out what happened to her."

"Did you know if any of the bridesmaids were pregnant?" Pepper asked.

All of the ladies shook their heads no.

"We talk to a lot of people every day, and with everyone sharing personal information, it all sort of runs together after a while," Bertie said.

"It's the law," Kelly said.

Pepper shushed her again.

I wrote my name and the number of the red phone down on a piece of paper and gave it to Bertie. I'd have to add hooking up an answering machine to my list of things to do. "If you think of anything, or if any of your other technicians know anything, please give me a call."

When we were back in the car, Kelly exclaimed, "That was so cool! You really did know where to go, Aunt Jo, and I think you really are psychic. All you have to do is keep dreaming, and you'll find out everything."

"I'd rather follow real leads," I said. "I'm not exactly happy about the dreaming thing."

And that was no joke. Now that Margie had helped me, I wondered if I would be hearing from Paula again soon.

Chapter Seven

Squatting was a killer on the inner thighs. The shaking machine I was standing on was set to high, and I was holding on for dear life as I squatted over and over again.

"Jo, get off. You're not going to be able to walk tomorrow," Pepper said. "Get on a treadmill and slow down."

I ignored her and kept squatting. I was going to get rid of this butt one way or another. I didn't want a husband someday who referred to me as Big Bertha. To top it all off, Kelly did some more taping on the ride home from the salon and referred to Pepper and me as The Butt Sisters. Pepper was swift to mete out punishment for her words, and Kelly was probably rubbing Mama's feet right now.

It felt good to work up a sweat. I hadn't had anything to eat since the salad at McDonald's earlier in the day, and now I was burning calories to the max. I'd eat a light supper when I got home and probably be down five pounds by morning.

"How long will it take to lose sixty pounds?" I asked Pepper.

"You don't need to lose sixty pounds. You'll be emaciated, and you'll look old."

"I'm losing fifty. How long will that take?"

"I don't know. Ask Suzy."

Jackie burst through the door. She rushed toward us waving newspapers.

"I have them! The Carol Bristol announcements."

That was enough to get me off the shaking squats machine.

She had two papers already folded to show the articles. She gave the engagement announcement to Pepper and the wedding announcement to me. Both were headed with Bristol-Meyers.

"Carol Bristol engaged to Craig Meyers," Pepper said.

I read from my article. "They were married on the twenty-fourth of June. The bride's sister was the maid of honor. Bridesmaids were..."

My voice trailed off. A chill went up my spine.

"What?" Pepper asked while smacking me on the arm with her paper. "What does it say?"

Jackie answered for me. "It says one of the bridesmaids was Paula Radford."

Maybe I wasn't cut out to be a private investigator. Seeing what was probably Ruby's real name in print made her death more disturbing. I felt lightheaded and sick to my stomach.

"You don't look so good," Jackie said. "Sit down."

I dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged with my head down. The vision of Ruby in the strip club, peering down at me and saying her name was Paula, was vivid in my mind. This had to be her. Paula Radford.

"Did you find out anything about her?" I asked.

"Not a thing. I ran all of my usual searches, but her name didn't come up in any database. Not even a driver's license."

"What time are we going to Marietta tomorrow?" I asked Pepper.

"I thought we'd leave at ten. It'll only take us about an hour and a half to get there. We can have lunch before we look around town."

I wanted to go to Marietta with Pepper, because I believed there was a clue to Paula's death there, but I also wanted to track down Carol Bristol-Meyers and ask her how well she knew one of her bridesmaids.

Jackie read my mind. She grabbed the paper from Pepper. "This says Carol works for Telcor Corporation. I've never heard of them. I'll see what I can find out about the company tomorrow, and I'll try to find out where the newlyweds are living. You guys go have fun. If I find out anything, we can follow up on it over the weekend."

~ ~ ~

"Get your stinky hands off me! Mom, Kelly's touching me again!"

Pepper sighed. The kids had been fussing and arguing ever since we left home an hour ago. "Kelly, doggone it all to Homer and back! Quit teasing your brother."

"I'm not teasing him. I never touched him."

"Did too! And your hands smell like Grandmama's feet. I'm gonna be sick." He made gagging sounds.

"Still want to homeschool the little darlings?" I asked. I didn't even try to conceal my humor at the situation.

Pepper looked like she wanted to strangle me, too. "I can see we'll have to ease into it, but I still think it will work out just fine."

"Mom, Kelly's putting Grandmama's fungus feet smell on me. Make her stop."

"Dammit! You kids knock it off, or I'm grounding you both for the rest of the summer."

Both kids gasped. It was unheard of for a swear word to roll out of Pepper's mouth. It was my contention she should swear more often, and the kids proved it by promptly zipping it, folding their arms across their chests, and sulking.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes," I said. "What's first on our agenda, and what are we learning today?"

"Lunch is first. Maybe they'll stop being so cranky after we eat. Then we're going to the Ohio River Museum before we take a ride on a sternwheeler."

"What's a sternwheeler?" I asked.

"It's a boat."

"I know it's a boat, but what makes it a sternwheeler? What does that mean?"

Pepper was visibly annoyed. "Jo, you can't be serious. It's one of those big paddlewheel boats. You know, with the wheel in the back of the boat – the stern."

"Well, why didn't you say a paddlewheeler? I know what those are."

Pepper looked as though she was ready to pull her hair out. We were all making her crazy this morning.

"You know," I said, "you're going to need a lot more patience if you're going to homeschool. Wait until you have to teach them the Pythagorean Theorem or the Quadratic Formula. What if they don't get it?"

"If I get stuck, I'll call you," she said with heavy sarcasm.

Pepper had always struggled with math and had to study for hours on end for her grades. To me, math was like solving mysteries. Algebra was exciting, and I had loved filling pages and pages of notebook paper with equations. It was my easiest subject.

The rest of the drive into the city was made in silence. The kids continued to sulk, while I chose to keep my thoughts to myself and allow Pepper to drive without aggravation for a while.

Crankiness lifted for everyone when Pepper turned onto a brick road and parked along the Ohio River. Across the street was The Levee House, a restaurant situated in a lovely, historic, brick building.

We were seated on the outdoor patio at the front of the restaurant. It was hot, but we were in shade, and it was pleasant and comfortable. The kids were quick to order burgers while Pepper and I ordered salads.

"Have you had any more dreams, Aunt Jo?" Kelly asked.

"Not since the one about Margie at the nail salon."

"What are you dreaming about?" Keith asked.

"She's talking to a dead girl in her dreams," Kelly said.

Keith screwed up his face. "Gross."

Pepper pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. "Ok, everybody, pay attention. We're at the Levee House. This building was built in eighteen twenty-six, and it was the first dry goods store in the Northwest Territory."

"What's a dry good?" Keith asked.

"This isn't the Northwest," Kelly said.

Pepper answered their questions in her best teacher voice. "In eighteen twenty-six, the land northwest of the Ohio River was called the Northwest Territory, and dry goods are things that are dry - like fabric, ribbon, lace, coffee and tea."

"Bo-rrr-ing," said Keith.

I smiled. Pepper shoved the paper back into her purse and said, "Well, I think it's interesting. This building was built before the Civil War. It's the last original riverfront structure in the city."

Keith was disinterested and changed the subject. "Aunt Jo, I want to know about the dead girl. Why are you dreaming about her?"

"I don't know," I said, "but the dreams seem important. I even had one about Marietta. She showed me a newspaper headline for some ancient burial grounds with a record number of visitors this year. I have no idea why she wanted me to see that."

Keith thought for a moment before saying, "Maybe she wants to be buried here. Maybe she's from here, and she lived next door to a burial ground."

Kelly added to the conjecture. "Maybe she visited graves here. At midnight. She might have been a vampire. Was the knife in her chest wooden?"

Our waitress delivered our food, and talk of Ruby stopped, but only for a few minutes.

"Let's not take the boat ride," Kelly said. "Let's find the burial ground and look for clues about Ruby."

"Yeah! I don't want to ride the boat either," Keith chimed in. "There's nothing to see but water, and I want to look for clues, too."

Pepper started to argue, but I interrupted. "It will keep us from coming back later if we look around today. Besides, isn't there some kind of famous burial mound around here? Like the Great Serpent Mound?"

Our waitress was back to refill our drinks and said, "The Great Serpent Mound is between here and Cincinnati. It'll take you a couple of hours to get there."

"Are there any ancient burial grounds here in Marietta?" I asked.

"Most of the tourists go to Mound Cemetery on Fifth Street. Rufus Putnam and some other Revolutionary War soldiers are buried there. There's one burial mound at the back of the cemetery. "

"Let's go there," Keith said. "We'll find a ghost or Aunt Jo will have a vision or something."

"It's worth taking a look," I said to Pepper.

She looked doubtful, but pointed her finger at the kids and said, "We can go, but you're going to learn something while we're there, so you have to read tombstones and take notes."

Keith rubbed his hands together with glee before shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

I continued to enjoy my salad. I rarely ate fresh greens, and the salad tasted wonderful – probably more so because we were eating outdoors. The air seemed fresher here by the water, and I was glad I had made the decision to come. I was definitely looking forward to going to the cemetery. There would be something to find there. I was sure of it.

Half an hour later, we walked beneath the wrought iron archway and into Mound Cemetery.

"Daylight hours only," Keith said, reading the sign. "Who would want to come here at night? There are probably ghost soldiers still battling it out."

"You guys go ahead and do your thing," I told Pepper. "I want to look around by myself for a while."

She led the kids down the path through the middle of the cemetery. I stepped off to the right with the intention of walking the perimeter first.

The cemetery covered approximately two city blocks. Two-story century homes surrounded the plot of land on all four sides. Numerous trees within the cemetery provided patches of shade for relief from the hot sun.

Some of the headstones were modern, but most were very old with interesting carvings. Some were askew. A feeling of sadness came over me for all the people here who had gone before. It was somber to read engravings and see the graves of soldiers who fought so long ago.

I thought about Paula again. Was I in the right place? Was there something here at the cemetery I was supposed to see or find?

I was starting to get depressed. The headstone of a sixteen-year-old boy proclaimed he had died in the Ohio River. A woman who was the secretary of the Northwest Territory only lived to thirty-six years of age. What happened to her? There was a headstone for a Revolutionary War soldier who had been the foreman of the first grand jury in Ohio.

I gradually made my way to the back of the cemetery. Pepper and the kids were atop the burial mound. I considered walking up the stairs to catch up with them, but my legs were sore from too many squats last night. The more than thirty steep steps weren't something I wanted to tackle today.

Keith and Kelly waved. I raised my hand to wave back but quickly retracted my arm and walked away when Keith threw himself down on the ground and rolled down the mound. Everyone in the cemetery could hear Pepper screeching at him. A sign by the steps clearly stated the fine for climbing the mound and not using the steps was fifty dollars.

I heard Keith yell, "I wasn't climbing. The sign didn't say anything about rolling down."

I laughed to myself. That kid had an answer for everything. I suspected if Pepper wasn't getting her blonde hair out of a bottle, she'd be full gray by now. I kept on walking to the other side of the cemetery.

A small open gate led to the sidewalk outside the wrought-iron fence. There was something in the middle of the sidewalk, but I couldn't tell what it was. As I got closer, a creepy shiver came over my body like it used to in Mama's basement. I whirled around so fast, I gave myself a tish of whiplash, but there was no one behind me.

I stepped onto the sidewalk and stared at the object. It took a second for me to realize it was a newspaper. It was slightly rumpled, and dirt had caused it to look almost black on the exposed side. It was certainly out of place in the clean and well-manicured surroundings.

I looked around to see if anyone was watching. Someone may have put it there as a joke, like the time I tried to pick up a quarter only to find it had been superglued to the sidewalk. The jerks in the Verizon office were entertained as they watched people bend over and try to pick up their stupid quarter.

No one was around.

I poked the paper with my foot. There was nothing under it, and nothing slithered out. I reached down and flipped it open. It was the business section of the local newspaper. The first article was about a florist. I could barely make out the article in the blackened area below the fold, but it appeared to be about a potato chip manufacturer. I turned pages and scanned headlines, but there was nothing about Ruby Rosewell or Paula Radford.

A city trash can was against the fence not five feet from me. I picked up the newspaper to throw it away when the date caught my attention. The first of July. The day Paula was murdered. The creepy shiver revisited my body. There was no way this paper had been on the sidewalk since last Saturday, and no matter how irrelevant the articles, I knew as sure as I knew anything this paper was here for me to find. I folded it and shoved it in my purse.

I stepped back inside the gate and saw Pepper rushing the kids away from the mound. I chuckled. She had her hands full with those two.

By the time I worked my way back to the front of the cemetery, Pepper and the kids were waiting for me on the sidewalk by the car.

"Did you get fined?" I asked.

"No," she said. "But I wouldn't be surprised if there are cameras and a ticket shows up in the mail."

Keith was still excited. "That was so much fun. It's just a hill. I don't know why we're not allowed to roll down it."

Pepper sighed. "It's a burial mound. There are Adena Indians buried there. It's irreverent to climb or roll on it."

He didn't agree. "There are stairs to climb, and we can walk on the top. And there are benches up there to sit on. Why can you do that but not climb on the other sides or roll down? That's not fair."

Pepper didn't have a good explanation. "It's just the way it is, and if we get a ticket for fifty dollars, it's coming out of your piggy bank."

"Did you have a vision, Aunt Jo?" Kelly asked. "Did you get another clue from Ruby?"

I shook my head. "No vision. No clues. Not yet anyway. Did you guys find anything?"

"I found Mozart," Keith said. "He was decomposing."

Kelly punched him and said, "You did not."

He punched her back. "Did too."

"That's enough, you two," Pepper said looking at her watch. "It's only two o'clock. Let's go to the Ohio River Museum. Since we missed the ride on the sternwheeler, we can at least tour one."

I decided not to say anything about the newspaper until I had time to read it more carefully. We piled into the car and headed for the museum.

~ ~ ~

"I'd like to place an order for a dozen ribs and a side of coleslaw."

I regretted placing the order the second I hung up the phone, but I didn't have the willpower to call back and cancel it. My mouth was already watering, and my taste buds would never forgive me if the ribs didn't show up in twenty minutes.

After two days of eating better and jiggling every globule of fat in my body on shaking machines while doing sumo squats, I did feel lighter and more energetic. It was a good start, but I couldn't go cold turkey off everything I loved. And I loved Smitty's ribs. The salad from lunch didn't stay with me very long, so tonight it was either ribs or an entire pizza. I considered the ribs the lesser of the two evils.

I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and the Marietta newspaper from my purse. I wanted to look it over more carefully while I waited for the food.

It was a thin section of newspaper with only eight pages. The first page definitely held no clues. Pages two and three had short business articles, four through six were the classifieds, and pages seven and eight were car dealership ads. I hoped I wouldn't have to read every classified listing before finding a clue. I turned back to the two pages of articles.

An accounting firm announced it had hired IT specialist, Mike Muller. Goodwill was scheduled to hold a job fair on Wednesday. Businessman Terry L. Cord was planning a run for mayor. A body shop was converting vehicles to run on natural gas. There were also tips for making repairs around the house before winter, shopping for lower insurance rates, and information for improving woodland habitats for wildlife if you lived on a wooded lot. That was it. There was nothing pertaining to Ruby or Paula in any of the articles.

My head hurt just thinking about reading the classifieds, and I needed another beer. The comfy chair wasn't stocked, so I headed for the kitchen.

It was early evening but darker than usual. Black clouds had moved in, and a storm was brewing. The wind whipped the dogwood trees in the back yard. As a precaution, I grabbed a lighter and a couple of emergency candles along with the beer.

The doorbell rang. My mouth watered and my jaw hinges ached with anticipation of the ribs and coleslaw.

I paid the man for the food and gave him the exorbitant delivery fee just as the first large drops of rain fell. The driver dashed to his car. I slammed my door and spread the goods out on the coffee table.

With the beer opened and the candles lit, I chomped on the first rib. The meat was tender and fell off the bones. The sauce was incredible. How was I going to lose weight if I couldn't give up Smitty's ribs?

I had two ribs down in under a minute. I should enter an eating contest. Forget losing weight, I could become a professional competitive eater. I had my mouth stuffed with the third rib when the red phone rang. I pitched the bone into the box and grabbed a napkin to wipe my fingers. My mouth was still full when I picked up the handset. "Two sitters and a jellist."

"What the hell is that?" Jackie asked with a laugh. "Is that the new name for your detective agency?"

I managed to swallow most of the meat and said, "You caught me with my mouth full. Ribs from Smitty's. And no swearing. We're still not swearing."

"Hell isn't swearing. It's a proper noun. But lucky you with the ribs. Matt wanted meatloaf for supper, so we went to the diner."

I got right down to business and asked, "Did you find out anything today? We came up dry in Marietta."

"I checked into Telcor. The company is based in Germany, and they only have the one US office in Patterson. They deal in commercial property investments. They hold the property behind your house. The contractor backed out of the deal. That's why construction stopped."

"What about Carol Bristol-Meyers?" I asked.

"I have an address for her and her new husband. They bought a house on Treehorn Lake. I think we should go over there tomorrow and talk to her. Maybe she can tell us more about Telcor, and we can find out how she knew Paula."

Treehorn Lake was in Patterson. It wouldn't take long to get there. "I have a date with Stewie at six. I'll have to be back in time."

"He seems like a nice guy, Jo, and I think he's funny. Why do you give him such a hard time?"

I wasn't sure how to answer. Stewie was nice, but there was something I couldn't quite put my finger on. He had a coldness that often exhibited itself in the office, and then there was the rude manner at the restaurant the other day. His charm seemed more an act than genuine, and I sometimes thought he might be an axe murderer with bodies piling up in his basement.

"I don't know," I told her. "There's no chemistry, and the thought of kissing him kind of disgusts me. This is going to be a big mistake."

She chuckled. "Go and keep an open mind. Give him a chance, and try to have a good time. Maybe you'll change your mind."

Thunder rumbled overhead. It was followed by a loud crack from a nearby lightning strike. A second later, the only light in the room was from the candles I had lit earlier. Jackie was gone, and I didn't know if my landline died or if she lost her cell signal.

Talking with her had allowed the first few ribs to take the edge off my hunger, and I felt full. I had no desire to eat any more, and I was glad I hadn't stuffed myself to the point of misery.

I closed the box of ribs, grabbed the untouched coleslaw, and took both into the darkened kitchen. There was a hint of light coming from the candles in the living room. I stood still for a moment to be sure I had my bearings. Another lightning strike lit the room. My heart jumped, and I froze. Someone was looking in through the window over the sink.

I couldn't cry out. I couldn't move. Terror had me rooted to the floor. Another lightning flash followed, but this time, no one was there. I tossed the food onto the counter and raced to the back door to be sure it was locked. I checked the door to the garage and the front door. All were locked. I fumbled for my cell phone in my purse. It was dead. I had no signal.

The red phone! I picked up the handset and heard a dial tone. I tried to dial 911 but had my finger in the eight the first time and the zero the second time. I finally managed to dial 911.

"What is your emergency?" the voice on the other end asked.

"A prowler," I said breathlessly. "I have a prowler outside my house."

I was scared. This was the first time I had ever been scared in my own home. I didn't mind living by myself, and even with the dreams of Ruby, and the creepy feelings at times, I was never truly scared. But I was now. Who was outside in such a terrible storm, and why were they looking in my window?

I couldn't believe a full twenty minutes elapsed before an officer showed up at the door. As luck would have it, it was Officer Twit.

"What happened, Jo?" he asked.

"Obviously, the power's out," I said. "When I walked into the kitchen and lightning flashed, I saw a face at the window."

"Did you get a good look? Can you describe the person?"

"No. I don't know if it was a man or a woman. The window was wet, and it was raining hard, but I could clearly make out facial features of eyes, nose, and a mouth. I'm positive someone was there."

He nodded his head. "Lock your door. I'll take a look around."

I did as he instructed and waited. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but I didn't think so. I saw a face, and in retrospect, I knew whoever it was saw me, too. They were looking directly at me.

I sat on my sofa and shook. It would be a long time before my nerves calmed down. I jumped when Officer Twit knocked on the door again.

"I looked all over your property and didn't see anyone. The rain's too heavy to show any footprints, so all I can tell you is to keep your doors and windows locked, and call us back if you see anything else. I'll come by a few times during the night and patrol the area."

I appreciated his concern, and I felt somewhat guilty for thinking of him as a twit. After he left, I took his suggestion to check all of the doors and windows. The candle illuminated my way as I climbed the stairs. The likelihood of someone getting in through an upstairs window was zero, but I wanted to be sure they were all locked.

The windows in the two spare bedrooms were secure. My bedroom windows were locked, too. I set the candle down on the dresser and looked out onto the western edge of the construction site. My heart began to race again. There was a light. A moving light. Probably a flashlight, and it was definitely moving toward the east where I had found Ruby. I dashed over to the murder room to look out, but stopped in my tracks.

The window was open.

Chapter Eight

"Kelly, go get your Aunt Jo a blanket out of the hall closet."

"I'm afraid to go upstairs by myself," she whined.

Pepper was frustrated and raised her voice. "Keith, go with your sister, and hurry up."

The kids ran off with a flashlight lighting their way.

She handed a towel to me. "Is there someone in your house right now?" she asked.

My hair and clothes were soaked, and I was shaking as if I was on one of the machines at Figure Perfect. "I don't know. When I saw the open window in the murder room, I ran out. I left a lit candle upstairs and one in the living room, but I'm not going back over there. The house can burn down."

Pepper tried her cell phone again. There was still no signal. "Does your red phone work?"

"Yes, but I'm not kidding, Pepper. I'm not going back over there."

"I wish Buck was here," she muttered under her breath.

Keith handed the blanket to me. I wrapped myself in it, but the shaking continued.

"What's a murder room?" he asked. His eyes were wide. "Was someone murdered in your house?"

Pepper was trying to be the calm one, but anxiety was apparent in her voice. "No one was murdered in Aunt Jo's house. It's a room where she writes things down when she tries to figure stuff out."

Kelly squished herself up against Keith on the sofa. It was obvious she was frightened, too. "What if our windows are open upstairs?" she asked. "What if someone is in our house and is going to murder us?"

Pepper clenched her fists by her side. "No one is in the house. No one is going to murder us. Knock it off."

I felt sorry for the kids. I knew what it was like to be young and afraid.

A loud bang sounded at the front door, and we all jumped at the same time. Kelly stifled a scream. Pepper slowly moved toward the door and yelled, "Who is it?"

"Officer Wheeler."

She opened the door, and I heard Officer Twit ask, "Have you seen Jo?"

She stood back and pointed in my direction.

"What's going on?" he asked. "I just left here twenty minutes ago. I decided to double back before heading downtown, and I found your front door wide open with no one inside."

Through semi-chattering teeth, I told him, "I did what you said. I checked all the windows and doors to be sure they were locked. When I checked the room above the garage, the window was open. I never open my windows, so I was afraid someone was in the house. I ran out and came over here."

He called for backup, and fifteen minutes later, he and two more officers were searching every nook and cranny of my house for an intruder.

What if someone had been in my house all evening, hiding in the basement or in an upstairs closet? It all seemed much more Hitchcockian and frightening by candlelight.

Pepper handed another flashlight to the kids. "Go get ready for bed. You can sleep in my room tonight. Jo, you can stay here with us."

"Is there enough room in your bed for all four of us?" I asked.

Kelly giggled at the idea, but Keith said enthusiastically, "Sure there is."

I smiled and said, "I'll sleep on the sofa."

"You can sleep in my bed, Aunt Jo," Kelly offered.

"No. If Pepper doesn't mind, I'd rather sleep down here."

It was nearly an hour before Officer Wheeler came back. "We didn't find anyone in your house, and there's no sign anyone was in there. You must have left the window open."

I shook my head vehemently. "No. I told you, I never open my windows." The minute I said it, I remembered opening that very window and sticking my head out to look at the construction site to see where Ruby had lain. But that was the only time I had ever opened it, and I remember closing it right away. "It might not have been locked," I said, "but it was definitely closed."

"We locked the window, so everything's all right over there now." He didn't make a move to leave. Instead, he said, "Jo, can I talk with you privately for a minute?"

"I'll go check on the kids," Pepper said and headed for the stairs.

Officer Wheeler sat down opposite me. "You're going to have to come down to the station."

"Why? Do I have to fill out a report?"

"No, but I have to tell Sergeant Rorski what I found inside your house."

What was he talking about? I put my palms up and shook my head. I didn't have a clue.

"The room above the garage. It looks pretty creepy in there, Jo."

I let out a sigh of relief. "You had me scared there for a minute. That's my murder room. It's what I know about Ruby Rosewell's murder. I'm trying to put the pieces together and find out why she was murdered, since you guys aren't doing it."

He reviewed his notes in a small notebook and said, "But you have information no one else has. Who's Charlotte? Who's Paula Radford? Who's Margie, and how is she going to help you? And what is this about dream information?"

I was too tired to discuss it. "It's complicated," I said. "I'll come down on Monday and talk to Sergeant Rorski. Tell him I'll be in then."

He stood to leave.

"Officer Wheeler," I said stopping him. "I'm staying here with Pepper tonight. There's a key in a fake rock to the right of the front door. Would you mind locking my door, so I don't have to go back over there? I'm still kind of freaked out."

He smiled and said, "Sure." He paused and studied me more closely than was comfortable. "You don't remember me, do you?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head no.

"I'm Glenn. Glenn Wheeler. You used to babysit me."

This was Glenn Wheeler? Little booger eater, Glenny Wheeler? I almost burst out laughing.

His face lit up. "You were sixteen, and I thought you were the prettiest girl ever. I hated that I was eleven years old and my mom made me have a babysitter, but I was never mad when you showed up. You were always nice to me and played video games with me. Do you remember taking me down to the ice cream stand even though Mom said no sweets?"

It was all coming back to me now. He was fun to babysit, but I remembered him as a scrawny, towheaded kid. He had grown into a well-built, good-looking man with darker blonde, almost brown, hair. And in all fairness to him, I never actually saw him eat a booger, I only assumed he did by the way he positioned himself when he tried to sneak to pick his nose. All things considered, I decided this was a memory I would keep to myself.

"Little Glenny," I said. "We did have fun, didn't we? Who knew you would grow up to be a policeman? I had no idea it was you."

His smile was broad as he said, "I'll be right back." A few minutes later, he handed the house key to me. "If someone's trying to get into your house, you don't need a key outside."

I nodded and reached out to take the key. Our fingers touched for a moment, and there was a slight flutter in my stomach. His smile was charming. A natural charming - not forced. I was flustered but thanked him for his help and closed the door.

Little Glenny, huh? Officer Twit might not be such a twit after all.

~ ~ ~

Tea with Paula was lovely. The Earl Grey was delicious, and the scones were divine. We chatted about the weather, fashion, and men. Terrence treated her like a queen, and she was going to name the baby after him. They were in love and planning to be married. I was all atwitter about being reunited with Little Glenny. We, too, were in love and planned to marry, but "I'm not pregnant, you whore."

Why did I say that? Why would I call Paula a whore? I was instantly afraid and knew something terrible was going to happen. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stood from her dainty, embroidered chair. It was as though she were ten feet tall. A large knife materialized in her hand, and I knew she was going to kill me. I tried to stand, but she shoved me to the ground. As the knife came down, I instinctively rolled. Rather than plunging into my chest, the blade disappeared into the fat chunk that was my love handle. Paula leaned down and put her nose nearly to mine before saying, "Pull it out and use it."

My eyes flew open. I was discombobulated and my heart was palpitating. Where was I?

It only took a moment to realize I was at Pepper's house and why. The television was on in the kitchen, so I knew the power had been restored. A snicker caught my attention, and I saw Keith watching me from a chair. He had his hand over his mouth as he struggled not to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" I asked groggily.

He let out a boisterous laugh. "You were dreaming." He rolled his eyes and swooned. "You were all dreamy and saying Glenny, Glenny, Glenny, and then you were mean and saying whore, whore, whore." He doubled over with laughter and rolled onto the floor.

Pepper came into the room. "Go on. Get out of here and leave your Aunt Jo alone." She handed a cup of coffee to me. "Are you all right?"

I was miserable, but I said, "I'm ok. Just another bad dream about Paula. I insulted her, and she stabbed me with a knife. I am sooo done with these dreams. We need to figure this out soon, so she can move on and out of my head."

"Jackie called looking for you. She said she'll pick you up at your house at ten. It's eight thirty now."

"Come with us," I said. "You know you want to."

"I can't. I have to do the grocery shopping, and I have a ton of laundry piled up. Besides, I don't think Mama can watch the kids. She'll be at a bingo tournament today."

"What's Hank doing? Can they go over to his place?"

"I talked to him on Thursday. He said he had a birthday party scheduled for this weekend."

"That's perfect," I said. "He can take the kids with him. They know how to help him with his equipment, and they'll get cake."

Our brother owned a photography studio. He specialized in weddings, but he booked a fair number of kid's birthday parties, too. When he didn't have a photography gig, he worked nights as a bouncer at Parker's Tavern, a reputable bar in a shopping plaza on Main Street. Pepper's kids never tagged along when he worked at the tavern, but they loved helping Uncle Hank when he had weddings or parties to photograph.

"I'll call him," Pepper said. "If he can take the kids, I'll go with you."

~ ~ ~

Jackie was an aggressive driver. At the moment, she had her hand out the window, middle finger extended, and was waving it wildly at the trucker in front of her who had just cut her off.

"Who?" she asked. "Glenn Wheeler? Of course I know him. He's the new hottie on the police force. He was working over in Patterson, but his grandfather died recently and left his house to him, so he moved back into town. Why?"

"No reason," I said. "He answered my prowler call last night, and I was surprised to find out it was him. He was one of the last kids I ever babysat.

Jackie made eye contact with me in the rear-view mirror and said, "For what it's worth, he's single. You interested?"

I wasn't a blusher, but I felt a hot flush rush into my face. "No. Oh, heavens no. He's five or six years younger than I am. I'm not a cougar."

Pepper piped up, "Don't let her fool you. Officer Wheeler was making eyes at her, and she was looking him over, too. And she was saying his name in her sleep."

Jackie was intrigued. "You were dreaming about him? I don't know, Jo. Sounds like there's something there."

I ignored their teasing and said, "I wasn't dreaming about him. I was dreaming about Paula, and she stabbed me. What do you think that means?"

Jackie's smile turned to a frown. "She stabbed you?"

"It was disturbing," I said. "There's usually something I can take away from a dream about her, but there was nothing in this one. She stabbed me and told me to pull the knife out and use it."

"That's creepy," Jackie said.

"That wasn't the whole dream," Pepper said. "You said you insulted her, and Keith said you were saying whore over and over again."

Jackie snorted in her attempt to stifle a laugh.

"Paula and I were having a fancy schmancy tea party with scones. We were all snobby like with our noses in the air and our pinkie fingers sticking out, and we were chatting about girl stuff. She said she was going to marry Terrence and name the baby..." My voice trailed off. I grabbed my purse.

"Name the baby what?" Jackie asked.

I yanked the Marietta paper out of my purse. "Terrence is the formal name for Terry, right?" I opened the paper and rapidly scanned for the article about the mayor.

"What are you doing? What is that?" Pepper asked.

"I found this paper at the cemetery in Marietta. I didn't say anything because I didn't see any obvious clues in it. I thought it might end up being nothing more than trash, but there's an article about a Terry in here. Listen." I read aloud from the paper. "Businessman Terry L. Cord has thrown his hat into the ring as a candidate for mayor. Cord said he is running because he wants to improve the community by bringing people closer together, promoting businesses, and highlighting the city's historic assets. Cord is married with two adult children. His investment company has a long history with bankers, developers, and contractors in the city."

"What does that have to do with Paula?" Pepper asked.

Jackie was quick to answer. "Terry Cord is married. If he was the father of Paula's baby, he couldn't run for mayor with a pregnant mistress or prostitute in the picture."

Pepper's eyes widened. "So he must have killed her. We should call the police right away."

Jackie waved her hand dismissively. "We can't call anyone. Everything we think we know so far is because of Jo's dreams. We can't accuse this poor man of murder simply because Jo dreamed the name Terrence."

She was right, of course, but I said, "Officer Wheeler... Glenn... was freaked out by my murder room. I have to go to the station on Monday and tell Sergeant Rorski what I've found out so far."

"Oh, that'll be fun," Jackie said dryly. "He'll have a heart attack for sure."

A second later, she was giving me a heart attack as she shot across two lanes of heavy traffic to fly down an off-ramp. I grabbed the handle above the door, hung on for dear life, and screeched, "What the fudge nuggets, Jackie! You're going to get us killed."

Conversation lapsed as we made our way north of the city to Treehorn Lake. The hills, sweeping turns, and twisty sections of the road kept Jackie from driving like a maniac. Most people didn't realize it, but this part of Ohio was in the Appalachian foothills. Southeastern Ohio wasn't flat like the western part of the state.

It was a gorgeous day for a drive. I stared out the window and thought about the events of the night before. I was mad I had allowed myself to become so frightened. How was I going to be a private investigator if every little thing scared me? I should have grabbed something to use as a weapon and searched for an intruder on my own. In the light of day, it even seemed absurd that I had stayed overnight at Pepper's house.

We passed a sign indicating we were one mile from the lake. Once again, I had a feeling of anticipation. A good feeling. Being able to talk with someone who knew Paula might give us a lot of answers. I could feel it in my bones that we were close to solving her murder. I was going to make a good private investigator, and I knew this was something I wanted to do for the rest of my life. It was never too late to change careers. I recently read that Colonel Sanders was sixty-six when he built his chicken empire.

"Jackie, I'm not interested in going to college for four years to be a private investigator. I need someone to mentor me for a couple of years. Any ideas?"

She didn't hesitate to answer. "I know the perfect guy. He's been a P.I. for over thirty years, and he's retiring in three, so this is a good time to hook up with him."

"Who is it?"

"Arnold Baranski."

"Arnie? Big Arnie? The drunk who sits down at Parker's Tavern drinking whiskey all day? Hank says he's there from the time the bar opens until it closes."

"He's not a drunk. The tavern is his unofficial office. An arsonist torched his place a few years ago. He's still one of the best private investigators around. He helped with that big ecstasy drug ring bust last year. If you can get him to show you the ropes, it'll be worth more than any school can teach you."

She turned onto Lakeview Road, and we were soon pulling into the driveway of a stunning A-frame with beautiful landscaping.

"Let me do the talking," I said.

Jackie shook her head, "No, let me do the talking. I'll show my credentials from the paper. We'll look official."

Pepper agreed with Jackie. "The last thing we need is someone calling the cops on us."

I bristled. This was going to be my business, so I should be the one in charge to ask the questions. But I knew Jackie was right. If we were going to get any information from Carol, we couldn't look like three busybody women with nothing better to do than snoop around in something that was none of our business.

Jackie slipped her lanyard around her neck and knocked on the door. There was no answer. It never occurred to me that Carol might not be home. Jackie knocked again. No answer.

Pepper turned around to head back to the car. "No one's home. Let's go."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Let's see if anyone's around back by the lake."

"I'm not trespassing," Pepper said. "I'll wait here." She walked over to sit down on the front steps.

Jackie and I walked to the back of the house. Trees shaded the yard, making the ground still wet from the storm last night. Jackie went to knock on the sliding glass doors while I walked down the yard toward the lake. There was a path, but I assumed it was muddy, so I made my way on the grass. A rowboat was tied to the dock, and there wasn't anyone on the water. I turned around and saw Jackie coming down the path toward me.

"It's kind of muddy. Be-"

Before I could tell her to be careful, her feet flew out from under her, and she landed on her butt.

The string of swear words that came out of her mouth would have made a trucker proud. I tried not to laugh while I scolded her, "Jackie, someone will hear you."

"I don't care who hears me," she snapped, but she ended her swearing streak with, "horse manure!"

I nearly collapsed with laughter.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked. "I'm soaked clear through, and I'm not sitting in my car with muddy shorts."

"Do you have a blanket in the trunk?"

"No."

"Get in the lake."

She was incredulous. "Are you crazy?"

"No. Hop in the lake and wash the mud off. It's a hot day. You'll dry in no time."

She gave the suggestion some thought. We walked to the edge of the yard and peered into the water. It wasn't as clear as I thought it would be, probably because of the hard rain, but it would still wash off the mud.

Instead of stepping into the water, she strode onto the dock, kicked off her sandals, and stripped off her shorts, exposing a lace thong. She bent over and swished the shorts in the water.

My laughter was uncontrollable. She had no shame whatsoever at sticking her bare butt in the air as she rinsed the shorts.

I heard a female voice behind me. "You do know this is private property, don't you?"

I whirled around to face the woman, knowing full well guilt registered on my face.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Jackie said. "I fell in the mud in your yard." She didn't give any further explanation for her actions.

Pepper chose that moment to leave her legal position on the front steps and come running around the corner of the house and down the path. Before any of us could warn her, she was on her butt and sliding.

Everyone who lived on the lake could surely hear her when she yelled, "Dammit!"

The woman asked, "Who the hell are you people, and what the hell are you doing on my property?"

Carol Bristol-Meyers obviously needed someone to talk to her about her swearing.

~ ~ ~

The view of the lake from Carol's kitchen was beautiful, and the homemade sweet tea was refreshing. Pepper and Jackie were both wearing towels sarong style while their shorts dried in Carol's dryer.

"Paula has worked at Telcor for about six months," Carol said. "I asked all of the girls in the office to be bridesmaids. We're all close, and we spend time together outside of the office. I didn't want to leave Paula out, so I asked her, but I was surprised when she said yes."

"What do you know about her?" I asked.

"Not much. She's nice. She tries hard to fit in and do a good job." She paused for a moment before saying, "Well, she did try to fit in and do a good job. She was fired while I was on my honeymoon."

"Why was she fired?" I asked.

"I don't know. The official reason was cutbacks, but I don't understand that, because we have more business than we can handle right now.

Jackie asked, "Do you know where she lives?"

"She's in the upper apartment of a house on the corner of Elm and Second Street. It's the loud purple one with the navy trim. I had to go there once to drop off her bridesmaid's dress."

I pulled the photo showing only Paula's face from my purse. It was the same photo as the one in the newspaper, but this one was in color. I slid it slowly across the table and asked, "Is this Paula?"

Her hand flew to her mouth. "This is Paula? Is she dead?"

"We're pretty sure it's Paula," Jackie said. "That's what we want to know from you."

She nodded her head. "It's her. When did she die? How did she die?"

"She was murdered a week ago," I said. "Stabbed in the chest and left naked in a construction site over in Buxley."

Carol's eyes filled with tears. "Who would want to kill her?"

Pepper reached out a hand and placed it on Carol's arm for a moment before saying, "The police think up until about two years ago, she was a prostitute in Pittsburgh. She went by the name of Ruby Rosewell."

"Paula was a prostitute? Ruby Rosewell? I don't believe it." She sat speechless for a few moments before saying, "I had a prostitute in my wedding? And now she's dead?"

I thought those were both good reasons not to take delivery of the wedding photographs.

"Carol, do you know Terry Cord?" I asked. "He's the man who wants to run for mayor in Marietta."

"I don't know him on a social level, but he comes into our office a couple of times every month. We're an investment firm. We find properties in distress. They're either blighted or in financial difficulty, so we buy them and sell them to developers for a profit. Most of our investors are brought to us by Mr. Cord."

Jackie asked, "Do you think Paula knew him very well?"

"I can't say for sure. They spent quite a bit of time together in the records room going over files, but I have no idea if they talked on a personal level. Why?"

Pepper blurted out, "We think Paula was pregnant with his child, and he murdered her."

"No. No. No," I said while shooting eye daggers at Pepper. "That's just one of a hundred theories. We have no idea if Mr. Cord had anything to do with her death."

"I can assure you he didn't," Carol said. "He and his wife are in Cancun on vacation. They left on the day of my wedding and won't be back until tomorrow. He joked about both of us being on honeymoons at the same time, but his would be a second honeymoon and was lasting a week longer than mine."

I stood from the table. "Ok, girls. Your shorts are surely dry by now, and we need to get going. I have to get ready for my date."

Pepper giggled and told Carol, "Jo is finally going out with a co-worker who's been bugging her for weeks for a date."

She smiled and asked, "Where do you work?"

"Buxley Mortgage," I said.

Her smile broadened and she said, "Small world. We use a guy who works there for most of our appraisals. Stewart Tofts."

Pepper squealed and said, "That's who Jo's going out with tonight. Do you know him?"

Carol laughed. "It's the same as with Mr. Cord. He comes into the office every now and then, but I'm not usually the one who helps him."

I was stunned to hear this. Stewie dealt with the appraisers for our customers, but I didn't know he did appraisals himself, or possibly had an appraisal business on the side. I asked, "Did Paula ever talk with him?"

"She did. She was in charge of the records room and all of the filing, so she gathered paperwork for him when he came in."

Why did Stewie say he had never seen her before when he saw her picture in the newspaper? On the other hand, it was a terrible picture and didn't look like her at all.

After Jackie and Pepper were in dry shorts, we apologized for intruding on Carol's day and thanked her for her hospitality. Before going out the door, I thought of one more question. "Carol, who owns Telcor?"

"I don't know who the actual owner is, but it's someone from Germany. We've had a few representatives in the office, but I've never met the actual owner or even heard their name. All of our business is handled under the corporation name."

We left with Carol wishing me to, "Have fun with Stewart."

Chapter Nine

"The lawyer is forced to sleep in the barn. A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door. It's the pig and the cow." He threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

_Kill me now._ This was the fifth lawyer joke Stewie had rattled off within ten minutes. I had laughed politely at the first three, but put my head down and picked at my food with the last two.

"Don't you like a good lawyer joke?" he asked. "These are classic." He was still chuckling.

"I'm not big on jokes. I never did like them, even as a kid."

He twirled spaghetti into huge bites, and followed each with a bite of buttered bread slathered in sauce from his plate. Eating with Stewie was proving to be more embarrassing than enjoyable.

"Tell me about your childhood, Jo. If you didn't like jokes, what did you like?"

_Definitely kill me now._ The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my childhood – especially with Stewie. I didn't want to be rude, but I certainly wasn't going to offer details from my past.

"I liked riding my bike," I said.

"Who didn't?" he asked with a laugh. "I'm an only child. It must have been fun to grow up with a brother and a sister."

Not hardly. Pepper and I fought about everything from toys, to clothes, to boys – in that order. We had only become friends as adults. With Hank being a mama's boy, he was attached to her hip for most of his childhood. Unless I was watching him for Mama, he was with her or his own set of friends. I didn't want to talk about that either.

"It was ok," I said before taking a sip of wine and returning my gaze to my plate.

My chicken parmigiana was delicious, but I was disappointed he had chosen Mama Rosie's Pizza Emporium for our date. A hot dog at the ice cream stand would have been preferable to Mama Rosie's. I knew the underlying reason for my dissatisfaction with the restaurant was that it reminded me of how brusque he had been with me at lunch on Wednesday. It wasn't pleasant to be here again.

He leaned forward, and I saw he was uncomfortable. "Jo, help me out here. I'm just trying to get to know you better. Tell me some of your favorites. Color, movie, song?"

I knew I was being difficult. I forced a smile. "Ok, I'm sorry. My favorite color is orange. Movie is Midnight Run. It's from the eighties. Di Niro is in it. And I don't really have a favorite song. When I clean the house, I usually listen to The Rolling Stones." Under my breath, I added, "Or Justin Timberlake."

He roared with laughter. "Did you say Justin Timberlake?"

I couldn't help laughing with him. "It's not something I can control. I love his voice, and I think he's cute. He brought sexy back."

For the first time, I felt an ever-so-slight attraction to him. His eyes radiated happiness behind his horn-rimmed glasses. I relaxed considerably.

"Yeah. I have to admit," he said. "The man can sing." He leaned back in his chair. "What about your father? He wasn't at the cookout, and I've never heard you mention him."

My smile disappeared. We never talked about my dad. Ever. He went out one night to play poker with his buddies, and he never came back. I was five years old at the time. Mama nearly went crazy not knowing what happened to him. We all cried like banshees for weeks. Six months later, a postcard arrived from Mexico. Dad said he was ok, but he was never coming back to Mama or the States. From that day on, no one said another word about him. Not around Mama anyway. Sometimes Pepper and I would lie in bed at night and wonder why he left, or what he was doing, or even what he looked like, but that was a long time ago.

I pushed my plate away and said, "He died when I was five."

Stewie made appropriate facial and verbal expressions to show his sympathy, but I brushed them off by simply saying, "It's ok. I don't even remember him."

We sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. He finally said, "Let's get out of here. What do you say to some miniature golf? I haven't played since I was a kid. We can go over to Crown Gables."

Even though my feelings for him were all over the map so far, I wasn't yet ready to call it quits for the evening. "Ok. Sounds like fun," I said.

He flagged down our waitress and paid the bill. A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of Buxley Mortgage.

"I have to make a quick stop," he said. "I was going over my file for the Jackson closing Monday morning, but I don't have all the paperwork. It'll only take a few minutes."

While Stewie searched for his paperwork, I used the restroom. I had never been in the office after hours, and it felt odd being there on a Saturday night. The quiet bordered on unsettling. Barb always had the radio playing, and between her clacking away on her computer keyboard, and Stewie and Brian talking on their phones, there was always background noise to give the office an impression of a busy atmosphere.

When I came out, Stewie was on the telephone in his office. He made a couple of hand gestures to let me know he didn't know how long he would be.

I sat at my desk and fiddled with a container of colorful paper clips. Our date was going fairly well, and I was looking forward to miniature golf. He appeared happy enough, and there would likely be another date if I agreed to one. I probably would. Jackie would be happy I was at least getting along with him.

I giggled. Jackie and Pepper. The fiasco at Carol's house today was too funny. I'd have to tell Stewie about it while we golfed.

My mind ticked off the information we learned from Carol. One, she confirmed Ruby was Paula Radford. Two, Paula definitely worked for Telcor. Three, what was three? Were there really only two solid bits of information?

I grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down the two items. There had to be more. I wasn't going to make a good investigator if I couldn't remember the information I gathered. I rummaged through my desk to find a small notebook and shoved it into my purse. I would be better prepared next time.

I concentrated and played the conversation with Carol over again in my mind. Ahh, now I remember, Paula was fired. And she lived at the corner of Elm and Second. The house was an odd color. What was it? Green with purple trim. No, that wasn't right. Purple with some shade of blue trim. I wrote it down. When I gave all of this information to Sergeant Rorski on Monday, they would likely be all over her apartment and find information linking her to Terry Cord. The case would break open.

I felt a bit smug.

The office was quiet again. Stewie was no longer on the telephone. I heard his chair bang against his desk and the copier start to run. It had a squeak I had never noticed before. I was going to make a joke about him needing some oil, but a slight shiver ran down my spine. I had heard the noise before, and it wasn't in the office. It was on my red phone Thursday morning when I stayed home from work. It was in the background on the hang up call. Was that Stewie? On my red phone? My stomach flopped over, and I felt sick. Was he the heavy breather?

The notes about Paula were still in front of me on my desk, and I realized there was more information to add. Stewie knew Paula and lied to me about it. Did he know something about Paula's murder?

"Ready? I have everything now."

He was watching from his office doorway. I quickly folded the paper and shoved it into my purse. I tried to act natural, but my instincts told me Stewie was not to be trusted.

"I'm ready," I said and tried to smile.

He switched off the lights and locked the door behind us as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. It wasn't quite dusk, and a warm summer breeze was gently blowing. It was a perfect night for an outdoor date, but I didn't want to go forward until I confronted him about the telephone call and Paula.

"When did your copier start squeaking?"

He let out a chuckle, but it seemed more like a nervous laugh. "A little over a week ago. I called a repairman, but he hasn't shown up yet. Did it bother you? Set your teeth on edge like fingernails on a chalkboard?"

It was my turn to laugh nervously. "No, but I've heard that squeak before, and it wasn't in the office."

He frowned. I took a step back and looked around to see if there was a police officer in the area. What if I had crossed a line and angered him?

"All right, Jo. It was me. But you can't blame a guy for getting nervous."

I was surprised he admitted it so quickly. "You called my house phone?"

He nodded his head and looked sheepish. "I did, but when you answered it with something about sisters and a journalist, I got nervous and hung up. I forgot the copier was running at the time."

"How did you get the number? Only Jackie and Pepper have it, and they've been sworn to secrecy."

"I dialed information."

I was flabbergasted. It never occurred to me my super secret telephone number might be in the 411 directory.

"How many times did you call?" I asked.

"Just Thursday morning. You called off sick, and I thought I'd call to see how you were feeling and ask you where you wanted to go on our date. You didn't sound sick when I called, and it felt so high school to even call like that, so I hung up the phone. I'm sorry."

"Did you call last Monday night?"

He shook his head no.

"Call and breathe heavy into the phone?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "No way. I've never breathed heavy into any phone ever, and I haven't pranked anyone on the phone since I was a kid. Is your refrigerator running? Do you have Prince Albert in a can?"

He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, and I found myself laughing with him. The mystery of the phone call was solved. If my number was listed, the heavy breather could have been anyone and was likely someone who punched a random number to begin with.

My imagination was too vivid. A good private investigator dealt with facts. I still wanted to ask him about Paula, but that could wait until after we golfed.

~ ~ ~

Stewie leaned his head out the car window and yelled, "Two chocolate milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries."

He had never been to Chummy Burgers and More. If he liked practical jokes, he would love the drive thru at Chummy's.

"How long have you lived in Buxley?" I asked.

"I'm originally from Chicago, but I moved here for my job eight months ago."

I scrunched up my face. "From Chicago to small town Ohio? That doesn't exactly sound like a move up."

"Don't tell the boss, but I'm looking into some other opportunities."

"Like starting your own appraisal business?"

Before he could answer, the Chummy employee handed two cups out the window. He pulled forward and parked in a parking spot. Both cups were hot black coffee. One had a cherry floating in it and the other had rapidly melting whipped cream.

Stewie wasn't amused. "What the-?"

My laughter was probably over the top, but I found his reaction to the coffee wonderfully funny.

"I'll take the one with the whipped cream," I said.

He smiled, but I could tell he was irritated. Was he irritated at Chummy's or at me?

"How did you know about my appraisal business?" he asked.

"Stewie, we need to talk. When we were in the break room the other day, you said you had never seen the dead girl from the construction site before."

"That's right," he said.

"But you have. She was Paula Radford, and she worked for Telcor. Yesterday, I talked to a woman who works there, and she said they use you for appraisals. She said you come into the office a couple of times every month, and Paula always helped you in the records room."

I studied his face as carefully as I could in the dimly lit parking lot. He appeared genuinely shocked.

"That was Paula? The picture didn't look anything like her."

I nodded.

"Wow," he said slowly. "Paula was Ruby. And she was a prostitute? I didn't get that impression from her. She seemed sweet, and she was always helpful."

"Do you know anything about her at all? Where she was from?"

"No. Nothing. My contact with her was strictly business."

"Do you know Terry Cord?"

"Yes, of course. I've done appraisals for him to submit to Telcor, but don't let Brian know. I'm not ready to lose my job yet."

"I won't say anything. Do you have any idea how well Terry knew Paula?"

"No. I never saw them together."

"I think they were involved. This hasn't been made public yet, but Paula was pregnant. I think she was Terry's mistress, and when he found out she was pregnant, he killed her. He's running for mayor in Marietta, and he couldn't have her popping up, especially with a baby on the way."

He looked astonished. "How do you come up with this stuff? Terry Cord is an honorable businessman. You're barking up the wrong tree. Besides, he's been in Mexico for a couple of weeks. He couldn't have killed her."

"Did anyone see him leave town? He could have gone after he murdered her, or maybe he came back early."

"I think you need to leave this to the police, Jo. You could hurt a lot of people if you put this out there and you're wrong."

"I know. I'm meeting with Sergeant Rorski on Monday to tell him what I've found out so far. He'll look into Terry Cord. I'm sure the police have ways to know if he was in the country or not when Paula was murdered."

He reached over and grasped my hand. I wasn't repulsed, and I didn't pull away. "Tell the sergeant what you know, and then leave it to the experts. I don't want anything to happen to you."

I smiled. Stewie was looking more attractive by the minute.

Chapter Ten

Jackie tripped on the stairs. I heard an expletive under her breath.

I whirled around and issued a loud, "Shhh."

She hissed, "You didn't tell me there were shoes on the steps. Turn on the flashlight."

"No. Not until we're inside."

I had my credit card in my pocket. If I couldn't find a way into Paula's apartment, I'd use it to force the lock. I had my fingers crossed the old house didn't have a dead bolt on the door.

It was shortly after two in the morning. Stewie had dropped me off at my house at eleven thirty. When he asked if I wanted to go out again, I didn't hesitate to say yes. I was disappointed he didn't kiss me goodnight, but he seemed especially happy when he left.

After kicking off my shoes and sliding into my fuzzy orange slippers, I shuffled into the murder room to add information from the day to the whiteboard.

I sat on the loveseat and stared at this addition: _Paula's apartment - Second and Elm - Purple with some shade of blue trim._ I had written the words in black marker like all of the other information, but every time I turned my head, my peripheral vision caught a glow around the words, even though there clearly wasn't one.

Finally, a light bulb went off over my head, and I knew as clearly as I had known about Margie and the nail salon, there was something in Paula's apartment I should see. I also knew I needed to go now, before I talked with Sergeant Rorski on Monday. Her apartment would be the first place he would send his men to investigate.

It took some time, but I finally convinced Jackie to go with me to Patterson to check out the apartment. When she couldn't talk me out of going, I knew she was too afraid to miss a good story by not coming along.

I turned the flashlight on just long enough to get my bearings at the top of the stairs. I reached for the mailbox and pulled it down to peer inside. It was nearly full.

"Don't touch the mail," Jackie warned. "It's one thing that we're breaking into her apartment, but it's a felony with penitentiary time and a roommate named Diamond if you mess with the mail."

I opened the screen door. Of course, it had to squeak. The sound echoed up and down the street.

"Hurry up," Jackie whispered.

I felt the credit card in my pocket. I should have brought something else. The last thing I needed was to break the card off in the door, leaving my name behind. I'd end up on one of those stupid criminals shows.

"Let me look for a key first," I said.

There was nothing above the door or under the mat. I reached for a flower pot on the nearby window ledge. Jackie nearly knocked me over when she reached past me and turned the door knob. The door swung open.

"Who leaves their house unlocked?" I asked.

"We all do," Jackie said. "It's one of the benefits of small town living."

Well I didn't. Ok, maybe I did, but I was still surprised to find Paula's door unlocked.

Safely inside, I turned on the flashlight. Jackie flipped the switch on a lamp beside the sofa.

"Don't turn the light on," I said.

"The lamp is better than the flashlight. No one around here knows Paula is dead. It will look like she's home. The flashlight is a sure sign there's a burglar in the apartment."

I liked Jackie's logical mind. "You're right, but we're not burglars."

"Not yet we're not. What are we looking for?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe paperwork or computer files. A thumb drive. Something to tie her to Terry Cord."

"If Terry's been out of the country, why are you so convinced he's the one who murdered her?" Jackie asked.

That was a good question. Why was I so hung up on this theory?

"I don't know, but I'm sure I'm right. Paula had to be pregnant with his baby, and that's why she was murdered. I feel it in my bones."

"Well get your bones to looking. I want to get out of here." She began opening and closing drawers in the end tables.

I started my search in the kitchen. There were papers on the counter, but they were mostly advertisements and a few recipes cut from magazines. The drawers in the kitchen held typical junk, cutlery, and towels. I opened the refrigerator.

"Whoa," I exclaimed. A disgusting smell poured out. She had only been dead a week. How bad could her leftovers be? I slammed the door shut.

"Jeez, Jo," Jackie said pulling her shirt up over her nose.

"Cabbage," I said. "Very old, cooked cabbage."

I headed for the bedroom.

"Wait. I think I found something," she said.

She was standing next to a small corner desk and holding up a folder. "All of this paperwork is from Telcor, and it looks like transactions for property purchases. There are sticky notes on some of them."

We flipped through the first half of the papers together. Each sticky note had one word written on it, _fraud_.

Something else caught my eye. All of the paperwork had the Telcor logo. The T and the C were prominent in the logo, but the L was slightly enhanced, too. TLC. Those were the initials of Terry Cord. Terrence L. Cord.

"Jackie, I think Telcor is owned by Terry," I said excitedly. "Maybe that's why you couldn't find out who owns the company. Paula must have found out about something illegal, and she was killed for it. Or killed for being pregnant. Or for both."

Jackie nodded her head. "You might be right. Let's take this and get out of here."

My stomach gurgled a warning. Chummy's whipped cream coffee had moved into my intestines and was determined to move Mama Rosie's food out. Bertie and her crapped pants came to mind. "Jackie, I have to use the bathroom right now. It can't wait." I made a dash for Paula's bathroom.

"Ok, but I'm leaving. I'll wait for you in the car. Turn off the light and lock the door before you come down."

I waved my hand in her direction as I dashed around the corner.

The human body can be a disgusting thing at times. I suppose it didn't help I ate indiscriminately with no concern for good digestion. The stomach cramps and explosive diarrhea were horrible, especially in someone else's house, and I kept thinking of that poor goober in the bathroom scene of the movie Dumb and Dumber. With the cabbage smell from the kitchen, and now my odiferous use of the bathroom, the wallpaper would soon be peeling off the walls.

The front door opened. I whisper-yelled to Jackie, "I'm so sorry it smells in here. What did you forget?"

She didn't answer. I reached for the toilet paper just as a police officer came around the corner with his gun drawn.

"Police! Put your hands in the air!"

I screamed and threw my hands and the roll of toilet paper in the air while squeezing my eyes shut with all my might.

~ ~ ~

For the past hour, I had been lying through my teeth. One lie after another with one begetting another just like Mama said it would. Or the Bible. I wasn't sure where I learned the saying.

I was telling my story of mortification once again to yet another officer. "I'm a friend of Paula's. We both work in real estate. I was on my way home and had a sudden attack of intestinal disfortitude. Irritable bowel syndrome. The door was unlocked. I didn't break and enter anything. I didn't take anything. I was using the bathroom when one of your officers sneaked in and pointed his gun at me."

"Mrs. Ravens, we're trying to-"

I cut him off. "It's not Mrs. It's just Jo."

He continued. "We're trying to locate Miss Radford, so we can verify your story. When the landlady called to report you creeping up the stairs, she said it sounded like a herd of elephants above her once you entered the apartment. Who was with you?"

"No one. I was alone. I was running to use the bathroom, so, of course, it sounded like elephants. And what if you can't find Paula?" I asked. "You can't hold me indefinitely for using a bathroom. Call Sergeant Rorski in Buxley. He knows me. He'll vouch for me. Please."

The officer left the room. Where in the world was Jackie? When the first officer hauled me out of Paula's apartment in handcuffs, Jackie was nowhere in sight. My car was still a block down the street, but I couldn't tell if she was in it or not. The keys were in the ignition, so I could only surmise she had bolted out of Patterson by now and was back home in Buxley.

I checked my watch. Four minutes after four. Thank goodness it was Sunday, and I didn't have to be at work in a few hours. I did have to be at Mama's for family dinner at noon. If I could get out of here soon, I'd at least be able to get a couple hours of sleep.

The original arresting officer came into the room. He didn't look happy. "I don't know what happened in that apartment tonight, but I know you're lying." He held the door open for me. "You can go. Sergeant Rorski sent someone to pick you up."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I made a beeline for the front door – and nearly died when I saw Officer Glenn Wheeler waiting for me.

He was all business as he escorted me to his cruiser and assisted me into the back seat. We were only a few minutes down the road when he asked, "Are you ok?"

If I was a crier, this would be a good time to start blubbering, but I wasn't. The entire situation was so absurd, I couldn't hold back a chuckle. "I'm fine," I said.

"What happened back there, Jo? What were you doing in Patterson at this time of night? Did you really break into that apartment to use the bathroom?"

I wasn't going to change my story now. "I didn't break in. The door was unlocked. But yes, I used the bathroom." I smiled to myself. None of that was a lie.

"Where's your car?" he asked.

Without thinking, I said, "I don't know. Jackie probably drove it home."

"So you weren't alone in there," he said. "This has something to do with the Ruby Rosewell murder, doesn't it?"

I sighed. "Glenn, I'm tired. I already promised you I'd tell Sergeant Rorski everything I know on Monday. Later today, I'll be at my mother's for dinner, but I won't be going anywhere else. I don't want to talk about it tonight."

He didn't respond. We rode the rest of the way in silence. When he dropped me at my house, he said, "Don't forget, Jo. Monday morning. I'll be there, so I'll see you then."

I stood in the driveway and watched as he drove away. Tonight was a close call. I was exhausted but exhilarated. I had no idea if Jackie and I found anything to incriminate Terry Cord or not, but I did know it was a huge rush to sneak into Paula's apartment and search for clues. I couldn't wait to start my own investigative practice. I smiled all the way to my front door.

It was locked.

Thanks to Glenn, my spare key was no longer in my fake rock. My purse was in my car, and both the car and Jackie were missing. I thought about banging on Pepper's door, but I didn't want to wake the kids. I could break a basement window, but if the prowler came back, I didn't want to provide an easy way in. Frustrated, I jammed my hands into my pockets - and felt my credit card.

I was in my house in less than a minute. I was in my bed in ten.

~ ~ ~

Officer Glenn Twit Wheeler seductively rubbed honey on my lips before slowly licking them and melding his lips to mine in a passionate kiss. I returned the kiss and pressed against him in an effort to encourage him to go farther. He slid his hands under my shirt. Adding to the sensual atmosphere, the bees in the hive buzzed in a pleasing, rhythmic tone.

This was a great dream. There was no way I was waking from this one until I had sex with Glenn. Consciousness was knocking, but I refused to let it in. I concentrated harder on Glenn's hands. He gazed lovingly into my eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and I knew he was going to say _I love you_. Instead, the foulest of swear words gushed forth as his face morphed into Stewie's. His face turned purple. Blood poured from his mouth, and he slumped to the floor. A knife protruded from his back. Paula stood behind him shaking the hive and laughing. The buzzing of the bees became cacophonous. I put my hands over my ears and screamed.

My eyes flew open, but the buzzing continued. I leaned over and slammed my hand down on the alarm clock.

~ ~ ~

Fried chicken  
Mashed potatoes with melted butter pooled on top  
Sweet corn  
Bread and butter pickles  
Brown 'n serve dinner rolls

Mama sure knew how to serve up comfort food, and I had it piled high on my plate. The ratio of mashed potatoes to all of my other food was clearly two to one.

The pitcher of sweet tea on the table was empty, and so was my glass. I carried both to the kitchen for refills. When I returned, I plopped down on my chair, and a loud fart noise filled the room. Mama broke into laughter so hard, her eyes went squinty, and she couldn't talk. She put her hand over her heart, and I thought she was going to have the big one. Keith and Kelly hung off their chairs with laughter. Hank was smiling, and I knew he thought it was funny, too.

"Keith!" Pepper barked. "Leave your Aunt Jo alone."

He pointed across the table. "Grandmama made me do it. It wasn't my idea."

I pulled the whoopee cushion out from under my butt. "Ha. Ha. Very funny," I said.

When Mama was able to talk again, she said, "At least that didn't smell. Didn't you want to die when that policeman walked in on you last night?"

I knew there would be no living this down. I was mad at Pepper for telling her in the first place. I knew Mama wouldn't be satisfied until all of Buxley knew her daughter had been arrested on a commode. Toilet humor was right up her alley and always had been. We grew up with constant jokes and talk of poop, pee, and boogers.

"It wasn't fun, that's for sure," I said.

Hank shook his head. He had only heard bits and pieces of the story. "What were you doing in there anyway?"

"She had to take a dump," Keith exclaimed.

Pepper shot him a look of chastisement so severe, Keith's smile faded and he ducked down in his chair.

"That's not why I was there," I said. "Jackie and I were looking for clues. We wouldn't have gone in if the door hadn't been unlocked."

Another lie. Why was I lying? I rationalized it by telling myself I didn't want my family to be complicit in the knowledge of what Jackie and I planned to do if the door had been locked.

"Yeah, but why use the bathroom?" he asked. "Couldn't you have waited until you got home? Or stopped at a gas station?"

Pepper felt sorry for me. "Hank, haven't you ever had to go so bad, if you didn't get to a bathroom within seconds, it would be all over?"

He screwed up his face. "No. I don't think I have. Well, maybe once when we were deer hunting, but I just went in the woods."

"Let's change the subject," I said. "None of this is appropriate for the dinner table. Mama, did you win any money at bingo yesterday?"

"No, but there was a robbery, and I stopped it all by myself."

Everyone at the table expressed various degrees of shock.

"What," I yelped. "A robbery? What happened?

She put on a serious face with a deep frown. "Some guy came in waving a gun and made everyone put their money and jewelry in a bag. The church had ten thousand dollars in the bingo box, and when the guy grabbed the money, he put the gun down so he could scoop it up with both hands. I grabbed the gun and pointed it at him and said, 'You're mine now mother f'er,' and I went to town on him and took him out."

All of us sat stunned with our mouths hanging open.

"Grandmama, did that really happen?" Kelly asked.

She took her bottom plate out, rinsed it in her water glass, and shoved it back into her mouth. "It sure did." She paused for extra effect. "But not to me. I read it in the newspaper. I think it happened in New York. Wouldn't that be fun though? Some stupid criminal shows up in a church to rob the old ladies playing bingo, and one of the senior citizens grabs his gun and becomes a hero."

Hank laughed so hard, I thought he would cry, but I wondered what in the world was wrong with Mama today. She was over the top silly and not her usual cranky self.

"But did you win any money?" I asked again.

"Twenty bucks," she said as she pulled two tens out of her pocket and handed one to Kelly and one to Keith. "Did you bring my comics?" she asked Keith.

"They're in the car. I'll go get them," he said.

Mama continued to confuse me. "What comics?" I asked.

" _Hawkeye_ ," she said. "Don't you keep up with the kids and what they like these days? Keith's got the new issue starring Lucky, the dog who loves pizza. He's loaning it to me."

I looked over at Pepper and Hank and shook my head. I was simply out of the loop sometimes when it came to my family.

Kelly piped up, "Aunt Jo, we went with Uncle Hank to a birthday party yesterday, and Keith knocked over the table with the cake before the girl even got to blow out the candles."

Mama did her loud squinty eye laugh again. After a few hoos and phews, she said, "You kids get yourselves in the worst predicaments."

If I didn't know better, I would think she was stoned.

"It wasn't Keith's fault," Hank said. "A couple of the kids were roughhousing, and one pushed the other into Keith. Thankfully, the birthday girl's father saw it happen, so we weren't blamed. I have a couple of action shots of the cake going over though." He beamed with pride.

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," I said. I was glad to step away from the table.

I threw the door open and had a pie thrust under my nose.

"I come bearing gifts," Jackie said. "Chocolate Bourbon Pecan."

My car was in the driveway. My purse hung from her arm.

I threw my hands up and gave her my best _I can't believe you_ look. "Where did you go last night? Why did you abandon me?"

"I didn't abandon you. I just didn't come forward when the cop showed up."

"Jackie, he walked in on me when I was on the toilet. It was horrible."

She couldn't control herself and convulsed with laughter interspersed with snorts.

"Who is it?" Mama yelled from the dining room.

"It's Jackie," I yelled back. "She brought pie."

Keith came running to take the pie. Jackie and I stayed in the front room to talk.

"I didn't tell the Patterson police you were with me," I said. "I kept lying and saying I was alone and only there to use the bathroom. I've been worried all day thinking about being arrested again for lying to the police."

"You're not in trouble," she said. "As soon as they took you to the station, I called Sergeant Rorski. I told him we didn't have anything concrete as to who murdered Ruby Rosewell, but we did know who she was. I made it clear that he needed to get you out of the Patterson police station before you started talking and the chief over there took credit for helping to solve the case. Trust me, he called right away."

"Now that he knows we've identified the body, why aren't we talking to him today? Why aren't we giving our statements?"

"It's the Buxley police department," she said with sarcasm. "They still think of her as just a prostitute, and there's no urgency. He said he'd see us both Monday morning."

I was happy to hear she would be there, too. She believed me about my dreams, and I knew she would help to buffer the sergeant's growing irritation with me.

"Ok, good," I said. "Let's go eat pie."

"Wait," she said as she pulled the folder from Paula's apartment from the side pocket of my purse. "You need to see this."

She spread papers out in front of us on the coffee table. I picked up a photograph and said, "This is the man Stewie was with at Mama Rosie's for lunch on Wednesday."

"That's Terry Cord."

"You're kidding." I said it more in surprise than that I didn't believe her. Obviously, they knew each other, but I was surprised they knew each other well enough to have lunch together.

She handed a few of the papers to me. "Look at these. They're all appraisals for properties in southeast Ohio. I did some cross-referencing, and every one of them is low. Too low. Telcor purchased the properties based on the low appraisals, but they were reappraised later at a higher value for resale to developers. There are also properties here that were sold as blighted when they weren't, and low interest loans were made to people who could never pay them back. These properties were deliberately undervalued and, in some cases, effectively stolen from their owners."

I couldn't believe Stewie was involved. "Was Stewie doing both appraisals? The low and the high?"

She nodded her head. "I know you guys had a good time last night, Jo, but you need to see these. I found them when I was running searches on Cord this morning." She pulled out copies of Chicago newspaper clippings from several years ago. There were pictures of Stewie and Terry Cord together. Stewie worked on Terry's campaign for city council. Terry was elected, but he only served one term. There were allegations of kickbacks to the councilman for awarding building contracts to select builders of housing projects. "He was never indicted," she said, "but he hasn't run for political office since. Not until declaring his candidacy for mayor in Marietta."

My heart sank into my stomach. "Stewie is part of the fraud."

"It sure looks that way." She handed one last paper to me. "According to this, Telcor is owned by Breiner out of Germany, but the thing is, both Breiner and their company address are fake. Telcor is all Terry Cord. He doesn't have his name attached to any of the business, but I spent a couple of hours with Big Arnie this morning, and, by the way, he said he would probably mentor you. He wants to meet you." She flapped her hands at her own interruption. "But anyway, I spent time with him this morning, and he has a source in Pittsburgh who checked into Telcor's banking. The money routes through several offshore banks before finally going to one in Chicago held in his wife's maiden name. There's over twelve million dollars in the account."

We sat quiet for a few moments. It was a lot to take in.

"Cord probably had big plans for when he became mayor in Marietta," I said.

I gathered all the papers and shoved them back into the folder. Without enthusiasm, I asked, "Ready for pie?"

She smiled and said, "If there's any left."

~ ~ ~

Spending the afternoon at Mama's had been fun and proved a welcome distraction. Jackie regaled everyone with her take on last night's events. I considered protesting her embellishments, but Mama was enjoying the storytelling so much, I didn't intervene.

Rousing rounds of Pictionary followed, and I found myself feeling content and comfortable. It had been months since we'd all been together at Mama's, and it felt good to be with family.

Matt dropped by at five to pick up Jackie, and I left twenty minutes later after promising Pepper I would go with her to Figure Perfect tomorrow evening. It was an easy promise to make after eating a ton of mashed potatoes today.

It seemed silly to go to bed so early, but I was exhausted and planned to climb under the sheets as soon as I got home. I knew I wouldn't have any trouble sleeping until morning.

I thought about calling Stewie, but what would I say to him? _Hey, I know you've been cheating people out of their property and homes. I'll be telling Sergeant Rorski all about it in the morning. Oh, and by the way, your friend, Terry Cord really did kill Paula Radford, and I'm going to prove it._ Yeah, that would be a good conversation.

I struggled to keep my eyes open as I turned onto Clark Street. I didn't bother with the garage door opener. I left the car in the drive.

When I walked through the foyer and into the living room, I saw the light blinking on the answering machine I had hooked up to the red phone. I kicked off my shoes, grabbed a beer out of the overstuffed chair, and dropped sideways into it. I had restocked both the chair and the kitchen refrigerator with beer yesterday before my date with Stewie. I wanted to be prepared in case he wanted to come in afterward, but in hindsight, I was glad now he had declined.

The red light blinked a number three. Three messages? I was with Jackie and Pepper today. Who would leave three messages?

I pushed the button. The first message was from eight minutes after one this afternoon. "Hey, Two Sisters and a Journalist. This is Bertie at Margaret's Nail Confections. I talked to my girls, and Wendy was the one who did that dead girl's nails for the wedding. She said they talked a lot, and the girl was real nice. She gave her a card for a dance studio she was opening soon. The dance studio on the card is Paula Charlotte's Dance Center. Hope that helps. Bye."

Goosebumps covered my arms. The dancer at Pink Elephants had heard Paula say _Charlotte_ as her name over the phone. Charlotte must be her middle name. It was one more piece of information to fall into place.

Message number two was from four fifty-four. "Jo, Stewart here. Just wanted to say hello and tell you I had a good time last night. I thought maybe we could get together later and talk more about your theory about what happened to Paula. Talk to you later."

That was sad. He liked me, and I could see where I might like him a good deal better if we spent more time together, but there could be no working this out now. At least not until he got out of jail.

Message number three was from five forty, which was shortly before I came in. There was no message. It was thirty seconds of dead air. If it was the heavy breather, he didn't breathe a message.

I erased all of the messages and set my beer bottle on the floor. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I only wanted to rest them for a minute.

~ ~ ~

I woke up with my head hanging off the chair's armrest and drool on my cheek. I was cricked all over from sleeping in the chair, and it hurt to stretch my limbs.

The room was dark. I stumbled to a lamp and turned the switch. My eyes felt like they were two sizes too big for their sockets. I checked my watch. It was twelve forty. I had been asleep in the chair for over six hours. No wonder I felt so crooked.

I carried the beer bottle to the kitchen and tossed it in the trash before checking the doors and windows to be sure they were locked. I left the light on over the kitchen sink and slogged my way up the stairs. It would feel good to climb into bed.

The hallway was dimly lit at night by a few recessed lights along the walls, so I didn't bother with the bedroom lamp and simply made a beeline for the bathroom. I stopped in my tracks when I saw a glimmer of light out the window. It was a small light, like the one I had seen two nights ago. It wasn't moving away this time, it was coming toward me.

Was this the same person I had seen before? Why were they in the construction site? What were they looking for?

I suddenly felt cold. What if it was the same person who peeked in my kitchen window? Maybe it was the same person who opened the window to my murder room? I may have seen them running away that night. Were they coming back now?

The light was halfway across the site now. I quickly checked the windows in the two spare bedrooms. Both were locked. I ran to the murder room. Even before entering, I could see by the dim hallway lighting that the blinds were closed. I stepped into the room and flipped the wall switch for the overhead light.

I was momentarily stunned. Someone had been in the room. The whiteboard was clean. Everything tacked to it was gone, and all of the information I had written was wiped away. My laptop was gone from my desk. Absolutely everything I had pertaining to Paula's murder had been stolen.

Whoever did this might still be in the house, but my instincts told me I was alone. If someone wanted to hurt me, they could have done it while I was sleeping in the chair for six hours.

I raced back to the bedroom window and peered out again. The light was past the first dirt mound now and would soon be to my back yard. I knew I had to get out of the house.

I ran through the darkness and grabbed my cell phone and key ring from the coffee table before bolting out the front door. I made sure to lock it behind me.

Now what?

I could drive away. That would ensure my safety. I could run over to Pepper's. I definitely should call the police. Someone had broken into my house and stolen my laptop, and the prowler from Friday night might be in the construction site.

But a small voice in my head said if I was going to be a private investigator, I needed to handle some of these situations by myself. I suddenly felt emboldened and decided to find out who was skulking around on my own.

I ran across my front yard and through the Irwin's yard next door. I cut between their property and Mrs. Wyler's and ran back to the construction site. This put me near the third mound of dirt where I had found Paula's body.

It was dark, but I knew the ground was flat here. The moon was a sliver and kept the night from being pitch black. I crept behind the mounds of dirt to keep them between my house and me. When I rounded the second mound, I saw my upstairs windows clearly. There were glimpses of light in my yard. I moved closer to the bushes at the edge of the property and peered through. The moving light was now gone, and I didn't see anyone.

What was going on? I stared hard. I blinked my eyes several times and tried to pick out movement in the yard, but there was none. I was almost ready to go back into the house when I saw him walk through my kitchen. He passed the sink, and the light illuminated his face. It was Terry Cord. The man who murdered Paula was in my house.

It was definitely time to call the police. Terry Cord was the last man I wanted to face on my own. I backed up and ran behind the mound of dirt. I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

A soft voice whispered urgently out of the dark, "Jo, what's going on?"

I jumped three feet in the air.

"Stewie! You scared the snot out of me! What are you doing here?"

"I was doing some last minute work on the Jackson closing, and I had a strange feeling I should come by your house to see if you were ok. When I pulled into the driveway, I saw you running between the houses. What's happening?"

"I don't know," I said breathlessly. "Someone stole my laptop and erased all the work I've done on Paula's murder. And now Terry Cord is in my house."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. I saw him," I said excitedly. "I know he murdered Paula, and I think he intends to kill me, too."

"He's not going to hurt you, Jo," he said. "He's just going to get the folder you took out of Paula's apartment, and then he's leaving the country again. By the time the police figure out what happened, we'll both be in Germany, and we won't be back."

Confusion clouded my mind. Stewie knew that Terry murdered Paula?

"Stewie, I-"

He cut me off.

"Jo, I've told you before. Don't call me Stewie." His voice took on an angry tone. "I can't stand that name. You sound like my mother. Stewie this and Stewie that. Every day she made that disgusting soup with lima beans and called it stew-for-Stewie." He changed his voice to a high-pitched whine when he said the words again. " _Stew for Stewie_. Every time you call me Stewie, I want to punch something."

I felt lightheaded. Paula's words flashed in my mind, _the soup killed me_. I took a step back. The business card I had found. It had to be Stewie's. The letters TS were from his last name of Tofts. The ALS.COM was from his appraisals business. Stewie was the one who dumped Paula. The words were barely audible as they came out of my mouth. "Terry didn't kill her. You did."

He didn't deny it. "All those years of waiting for Terry to run for office again, and that slut gets pregnant and wants Terry to leave his wife and marry her. She was a prostitute for crying out loud. No one would have cared that she died, and everything would have worked out just right, but you had to put your big nose in it. Such a shame, too, because I liked you, Jo."

It was then I saw a glint off the knife in his hand. I took another step back. I tried to scream, but it was as though my throat had constricted and no sound came out. I turned to run, but only managed a few steps before he grabbed my arm and yanked. I pulled hard in an effort to wrench my arm away.

It felt as if we were moving in slow motion, yet my mind was in hyperdrive. In another second, he would have the knife plunged into my body. I planted my left foot and swung my right foot with all of my might into his groin.

What happened next was surreal. I had an out-of-body experience. I hovered high above us and watched as Stewie grabbed my foot and flipped me onto my back. I landed with a thud and a loud oomph. My foot hadn't connected with his groin at all. The knife was raised and coming down fast. I willed myself to move. I saw my body scoot and manage a half roll. The knife plunged into the fat pad on my hip.

I snapped back into my body and had no trouble screaming as loudly as I could. The pain was searing. Stewie was on top of me in an instant with his hands around my throat, cutting off my voice and breath. I clawed at his hands. Paula's voice filled my mind again, _pull it out and use it_.

There was no longer any pain. A burst of adrenaline surged through my body as I grasped the handle and pulled. I drove the knife upward into Stewie's body.

His hands let go of my neck, and I gasped for air. He raised himself up before falling over with his hands around the knife. He didn't have the strength to pull it out, and he made strange gurgling sounds before falling quiet. I tried to stand but fell twice before I was steady and could limp away. I was terrified Terry Cord would find me.

I stopped between the Irwin and Wyler houses and tucked myself in close to a rhododendron bush. I had the Buxley police department on speed dial. I said through chattering teeth, "This is Jo Ravens. I just killed a man."

Chapter Eleven

The cul-de-sac was full of vehicles and people. No one on Clark Street was sleeping now.

Keith came running around from behind my house and whooped, "I saw the dead guy when they put him in the ambulance."

Pepper was ready to throttle him. "You and Kelly go back over to the house. Now. You can sit on the front porch, but you have to quit getting underfoot here."

Kelly protested. "I wasn't sneaking out back to look at the guy Aunt Jo killed. Why can't I stay here? I don't want to miss anything."

Officer Wheeler was walking toward us. Pepper admonished the kids again. "If you aren't both over at our house in two minutes, there are going to be punishments, and they are going to involve Grandmama. Go!"

Both kids folded their arms across their chests, stuck lower lips out, and stomped down the driveway.

Glenn stood in front of me. "The ambulance is ten minutes out, Jo. Are you sure you're ok? I can run you to the hospital right now if you want. You don't have to wait."

I was shivering under the blanket Pepper had thrown around my shoulders - partly from the shock of my encounter with Stewie, and partly from the ice pack against my hip.

"I'll wait," I told him. I was doing ok for now and didn't want to ride to the hospital in the back of a cruiser.

Glenn was on duty and acting professionally, but there had been a time or two when he looked as though he wanted to say something personal to me. There had been a soft look in his eyes. The look reappeared now. "If I can get anything or do anything for you, let me know. I'm really sorry about the mix-up with the ambulance."

It was an effort to talk, so I nodded to let him know I understood. If I could string words together, I would tell him it wasn't his fault.

Glenn was first on the scene after my call. Dispatch told him where I was, so he was quick to find me. He tried to convince me to get up and sit in the cruiser, but I refused to leave my rhododendron refuge until I was certain Terry Cord was out of my house and under arrest.

I was huddled up to the bush, aching and sore, worrying about bleeding to death for nearly half an hour before Glenn came back for me. He reached a hand down, but I didn't have the strength to pull myself up.

"He stabbed me," I said and held out my hand. His flashlight caught the blood on my hand and hip.

Without saying a word, he reached down, slipped his arms around me, and pulled me to my feet. It felt nice to be close to him. A second later, he swept me up into his arms to carry me to my house. I was a little shocked he had lifted me - and a lot embarrassed about my weight.

"Put me down. I can walk," I protested.

He ignored me and carried me as if I were light as a feather. I sat on the porch waiting for an ambulance.

Jackie pulled in a few minutes later and ran over to wake Pepper. Pepper brought the blanket for me, while Jackie went into official reporter mode and started gathering information. She kept us apprised of happenings. I was glad to hear her say Terry Cord was nearly to his car on the other side of the construction site when two officers in a cruiser spotted him. They found the folder with Paula's incriminating evidence against Telcor under his shirt.

Shortly after that bit of good news, she told us an ambulance had driven onto the construction site to take Stewie away. I asked her why they didn't send a meat wagon and the coroner, Howard Sanders.

"Because Stewart's not dead," she said.

I was stunned to hear her say that. I was certain the noise before he went silent was a death rattle. Something deep inside me was secretly glad he lived. Justice would still be served, and I wouldn't have to live knowing I had taken the life of another. He had no qualms about wanting to take my life, and he had taken Paula's, but I didn't want his death on my conscience.

She also told me an officer was nailing plywood over the broken basement window behind the shrub at the back of my house. That explained how Terry entered the house so quickly. He must have broken it earlier when he cleaned out the murder room.

Fatigue was setting in fast. The knife wound on my hip was a deep puncture wound, so it wasn't bleeding excessively. If I had told Glenn I'd been stabbed when he first found me, I would be at the hospital already, but the first ambulance took Stewie and left.

A car parked down the street. A man exited and ran toward the house. I thought it might be Sergeant Rorski. He had been conspicuously absent throughout the entire ordeal. I almost laughed when I saw it was Doug Preston. Talk about late to the party.

He was unkempt, and I was sure a plaid pajama top was sticking out of his pants. He held a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. He seemed overly excited. "What's going on here, Jo? Why haven't you called me so I could interview you about the dead girl? Give me the 411 quick. Did you kill someone here tonight?"

Jackie stepped out onto the porch and told him, "It's pretty much all over now, Doug, and I've already called in most of the details. You can read about it in the morning edition."

His frustration was apparent. He turned and stomped down the driveway, not unlike Keith and Kelly earlier. Halfway down, he threw his hands in the air and yelled, "It was supposed to be my exclusive, Jackie."

Pepper sat down beside me and put her arm around my shoulders. "You did a good job on this, Jo. You didn't quite have it all figured out, but you caused enough ruckus to get to the truth - even if you did get to it the hard way. You're going to make a good investigator."

I gave both girls an appreciative smile. "As long as I have a sister and a journalist on my side, I think I'll make a great P.I."

~ ~ ~

Mama clinked glasses and clanged plates with gusto in my kitchen. I appreciated that she wanted to wash up the dishes from lunch, but I would have preferred that she loaded them into the dishwasher. She was a pro at chipping dinnerware.

"Can we do anything else for you before we leave?" Pepper asked.

I shook my head. I was managing without too much difficulty. A pillow between my knees, and one behind my hip, gave me the most comfort as I stretched out on the sofa. Painkillers were helping, too.

Pepper fussed anyway and made sure magazines and the television remote were within reach. She refilled my glass with lemonade and placed the red phone on the floor next to the sofa. "I'll call you later," she said.

Keith gave me a hug and set the shadowbox he made for me in the center of the coffee table. Both kids had brought homemade gifts to cheer me. Pepper said she was marking the projects down as art class toward their homeschooling. I didn't mean to laugh when she said it, but I still couldn't see her going all in and schooling them.

They left with a promise to check in on me later.

Mama was finished in the kitchen. "I'm leaving, too, Jo," she said. "It's Monday Madness Bingo at the church today, and I'm meeting your Aunt Bee."

"Thanks for bringing lunch," I said. "It was good." Her tuna noodle casserole was the recipe from her old Betty Crocker cookbook. I loved the casserole as a child, and I loved it now.

She stood by the door, but she didn't leave right away. I knew there was something coming I didn't want to hear.

"I know you want to be a dick," she said.

"It's a private investigator, Mama. A private eye."

She ignored me. "I think this incident last night should show you this isn't the job for you. You weren't strong enough to fight that guy off, and he almost killed you."

"But he didn't kill me," I said as a start to my defense. "And you don't have to be-"

She cut me off. "No, he didn't kill you, but this isn't work for a girl. This is a man's job, and you need to get this silly idea out of your head. This won't end well if you do this."

My voice went up a couple of octaves. "You don't know what you're talking about. This is the third murder I've helped solve. I can be good at this."

She half closed her eyes and held her hand up in a stop motion. "I just want you to know how I feel about it. Someday I'll be saying I told you so - if you're alive to hear it."

I knew there was no use arguing with her. She didn't understand how I felt about investigating, and I wasn't going to try to convince her.

"I'll stop back tomorrow to see how you're doing," she said before walking out the door.

I hated arguing with Mama. We rarely saw eye to eye on anything - politics, religion, and even simple things like who should win American Idol.

The house was quiet now. I was tired and wanted to take a nap, but I needed to use the bathroom first. The doctor didn't want me to walk any more than necessary for a few days, but this was necessary.

I hobbled into the half bath off the kitchen. This was the hard part – sitting on the toilet seat with only one good buttock.

No one was around, and because I knew it would feel good to say them, I interspersed swear words between short cries of "ouch, ouch."

I reached for the toilet paper on the holder opposite the toilet and caught a movement in the kitchen out of the corner of my eye.

I threw my hands over my face and screamed.

I wanted to die. Absolutely die right there. I reached a hand out to the bathroom door and gave it a shove. It slammed with a loud bang.

It took a couple of minutes, but I finished my business and made sure my bandages were secure. I examined myself in the mirror. Had I even brushed my hair today? I rummaged in the drawer and found an old comb of Alan's. I raked it through the tangles. I washed my face and used a mostly dried-out mascara from the back of the drawer. My cheeks and lips were on their own. At least my t-shirt was clean and my sweatpants didn't have holes.

I gritted my teeth, opened the door, and shuffled in my fuzzy orange slippers through the kitchen. I rounded the corner to the living room, half hoping he would be gone.

Glenn jumped to his feet. He was holding a pretty bouquet of flowers. It reminded me of the bouquets in the cooler at the grocery store.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I talked with Pepper, and she said the door was open, and I should walk right in." He laid the flowers on the table and gave me a hand with my pillows as I settled into my reclining position again.

I managed a smile and simply said, "It's ok."

He picked up the flowers. "I hope you like daisies. Do you have a vase?"

"There's one on the top shelf of the cupboard to the left of the sink."

On his way to the kitchen, he called over his shoulder, "That was a great write up in the paper today, don't you think?"

I grabbed _The Buxley Beacon_ from the coffee table. The entire front page was devoted to the story. Jackie had done a wonderful job of spelling out the details of Paula's murder and the downfall of Terry Cord. She made it clear Ruby Rosewell, a.k.a. Paula Charlotte Radford, had never been a prostitute. She was simply a girl who loved to dance. I especially liked the part where she referred to me as _Investigator Jo Ravens_. I don't know how she got away with that.

"She did," I said. "Jackie's a good writer. She's working on a novel. I expect she'll be famous one day."

Glenn slid Keith's shadowbox over and set the vase of flowers in the middle of the table. "If you keep solving murders, you'll be famous one day, too."

I laughed. "I'm a regular Clouseau, aren't I?"

We made some small talk, but my eyes drooped, and I had a hard time stifling yawns.

"Go ahead and take a nap," Glenn said. "I'll sit with you for a while, and then I'll let myself out."

I nodded and shoved my hand under my chin so my mouth would stay shut. I hoped it would keep me from snoring. I was asleep within minutes.

Short dreams came and went. They were pleasant. They were like my dreams of old – fun and colorful. In one, I strolled through a field of beautiful flowers and saw people slow dancing in the distance. Some had partners, others made round, sweeping moves by themselves. It was lovely to watch. One girl in a tangerine dress stood out. I knew even before I saw her face it was Paula. She twirled and looked in my direction. Her face beamed with happiness. She waved, and I knew she was waving goodbye. I wanted to talk to her. I raced through the flowers toward her.

The red phone jangled my dream into oblivion.

My usual state of confusion surrounded me when I was startled awake. Glenn had fallen asleep in the comfy overstuffed chair, and he appeared momentarily confused as well.

I grabbed the handset and mumbled, "Two setters and a cellist."

Jackie burst into laughter. "How many pain pills have you taken?"

"All of them," I said before quickly adding, "Not really. I was napping. Glenn's here. I guess he was napping, too."

"Really?" Her voice had a devilish edge to it. "Glenn is there, and the two of you are napping? Very nice."

"It's not like that. He stopped by to bring flowers and see how I was feeling. I simply couldn't stay awake. He-"

She interrupted with a laugh, "I'm just teasing you. Are you up for visitors today?"

"Sure," I said. "I'm stuck on the sofa for a few days, so drop in any time."

"I'll be by after dinner," she said.

I hung up the phone.

"What time is it?" I asked Glenn.

"Three thirty," he said. "Sorry about dropping off there. It was a late night for all of us."

I smiled, but didn't know what to say. I thought he would be gone by now.

"You're going to need some dinner soon," he said. "How about if I grab some Chinese takeout for you? You can eat it right out of the container when you're hungry."

I appreciated his concern. "That's sounds great."

We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before he asked, "Can I call you, Jo?"

I knew what he meant, but I blurted out, "You can call me anything you want, but don't call me late for dinner."

He chuckled. I shook my head, threw my palms up and said, "I'm sorry." I was sure he thought I was an idiot.

"I'd like to ask you out," he said and then added few seconds later, "When you're feeling better and can get around."

I was uncertain. "I don't know. It seems kind of weird in a way."

"Why? Because you used to babysit me? That was a long time ago. We're both adults now. I'm twenty-seven, and you'll forever be twenty-nine, so I'll catch up with you in two years."

The look on his face was endearing, and I couldn't help laughing. I started to tick off the pros and cons of dating him in my mind. The age difference bugged me, but I would probably get over it. I originally thought he was a twit, but now he made my heart flutter when I saw him. He was normal. At least I assumed he was normal and wouldn't try to kill me. My family would love him. He was a hometown boy and a police officer. That could come in handy when I started my own investigation business.

I flashed a smile his way and said, "You can call me."

~ ~ ~

The General Tso's chicken Glenn had dropped off hit the spot. I limped to the kitchen with the empty container to throw it away. After a quick trip to the bathroom, where I shut and locked the door and did more swearing under my breath, I hobbled back to the living room. I was surprised to see Jackie and Big Arnie standing inside the front door.

Jackie appeared slightly embarrassed. "Pepper said to walk right in." She turned to Big Arnie and said, "Arnie, this is Jo Ravens."

I limped over to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, Arnie, I had no idea I'd be seeing you so soon."

He grasped my hand in a firm grip and pumped it several times. His voice was as raspy as Mama's, but infinitely deeper, as he said, "When Jackie told me you wanted to learn the ropes about being a P. I., I figured the sooner we get started, the better."

I repositioned myself on the sofa while they settled into chairs.

Arnie appeared to be looking me over. "You took a shiv in the ass, did ya?" he asked.

It never occurred to me Arnie might be coarser than I was used to. Mama was like Bertie. They were both crass and enjoyed toilet humor. Arnie would probably be more gritty and down-to-earth crusty. I'd probably have a harder time controlling my swearing if I spent time with him.

I replied, "I was stabbed with a large knife in my left buttock."

Jackie tried to contain a laugh but ended up letting out one loud snort.

"I saved some information for you, Jo," she said. "I couldn't put it in the article, but we know how Stewart killed Paula. He murdered her in her apartment. Terry called her from Mexico and told her he had come back early and was coming over for an early-morning quickie. Paula was naked in her bed when Stewie slipped into the apartment and killed her. After he dumped her body, he cleaned her bedroom and made the bed with fresh sheets and blankets. The police found the bloody bedding in a garbage bag in his trunk. He was still driving around with it."

My mouth fell open. "I was on a date with Stewie, and evidence to Paula's murder was in the trunk?"

She nodded and flashed a creepy smile at the same time.

"They always get caught," Big Arnie said. "That wise guy thought he took care of everything when he cleaned the bed, but he was biding his time getting rid of the evidence. It comes back to bite ya in the ass every time." He looked over at me. "Speaking of ass. I've been investigating crimes for over thirty years," he said. "I've never been shot or stabbed. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure," I said. I couldn't hold back the smile spreading across my face.

"You're a big girl. That's good. You'll command more respect. A little tiny girlie won't get very far in this business."

I was pretty sure that wasn't a compliment, but I did accept his words as approval.

"What do we do first?" I asked.

He didn't hesitate. "You listen. Since you won't be going anywhere for a while, I'll stop by a few days this week and tell you about some of the cases I've worked in my career. You can learn a lot by listening. Then, when you can walk good again, we'll see what's on the agenda. What do you say?"

I smiled from ear to ear. "I say I'm in, Mr. Baranski."

"Oh, geez," he said with a level of disgust. "There will be no calling me Mr. Baranski. It's just Arnie. I know everyone calls me Big Arnie, but not to my face they don't. Got it?"

I nodded my head. Arnie it would be.

~ ~ ~

"What can I get for you?"

Glenn and a few of the other Buxley police officers and firefighters had just won a softball game against a team from Patterson. Most of the guys had gone to Parker's Tavern for fish and beer, but as I was still tender and avoiding crowds, we decided to grab a bite to eat at Chummy's.

I had never been inside Chummy's before, and I was pleasantly surprised at the retro sixties decor. It was clean and bright with an upbeat atmosphere.

"I'll have a southwestern salad and an unsweetened tea," I said.

Glenn placed his order. "Make mine a deluxe cheeseburger with a chocolate milkshake."

I smiled. It was shaping up to be a very good day. I was excited to be with Glenn, and I looked forward to what the future might bring with him. In addition, Arnie had called this morning and told me to hurry up and quit my job. He needed my help full time to investigate a counterfeit shoe operation. I didn't tell him I never went back to Buxley Mortgage after the stabbing, but I happily told him I would meet him at Parker's on Monday morning.

A courier delivering business cards followed Arnie's phone call. They were plain white with black lettering. My name was in the center followed by A. B. Investigations. The number to the red phone was in the lower left corner. I was officially working with Arnie Barnaski.

As we stood at the counter waiting for our food, one of the workers walked by on her way to the drive-thru window. She recognized me from my numerous trips through the drive-thru and gave me a little wave.

"Welcome to Chummy Burgers and More. Go ahead with your order," she said cheerfully into the microphone.

The voice came through the speaker loud and clear, "I'd like two cheeseburgers and two cups of black coffee."

She winked at me as she headed for the milkshake machine.

###

### Easy-breezy reading from Breezy Books!

The Susan Hunter books are not your typical mysteries, and Susan is not your typical sleuth. Often, she is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and things go downhill quickly. All of the books cross genres of chick lit, mystery, romance, humor, and action, bringing you a fast-paced, easy-breezy read.

Sunshine Hunter, A Susan Hunter Mystery #1 – Working in a weight-loss center by day and a racquetball club by night, Susan Hunter enjoys her life, the sport, and her friends.... When she finds out her new boyfriend of three months is married, she bolts with her best friend to Florida for a week. But someone has followed them, and they are now being stalked. To make matters worse, a murder has been committed back home in Carbide City, and Susan is wanted for questioning.... Humorous, sometimes ominous, _Sunshine Hunter_ is entertaining and perfect for easy, breezy reading!

Big Apple Hunter, A Susan Hunter Mystery #2 – Susan has life-changing decisions to make. Should she accept the new position with Slimmers Weight Loss? Should she give in and move the relationship with Mick to the next level? . . . When Darby has business in New York City, Susan jumps at the chance to tag along intending to indulge in a weekend of shopping. It doesn't take her long to realize she's being hunted in The Big Apple. And what does the stalker have to do with Darby's new client? It becomes a matter of life-and-death when the stalker shows up in Carbide City demanding something that Susan lost in New York.

Sin City Hunter, A Susan Hunter Mystery #3 – Susan is in Las Vegas for ten days of work and play. Her parents come in from Dallas to spend some time with her and have their own fun. But fun turns to terror for Susan when a magic act goes wrong.... When a man is murdered, Susan knows who did it. Unfortunately for her, the killer knows that she knows. Her actions in Sin City ultimately put not only her own life on the line but that of Mick's as well.

Big Easy Hunter, A Susan Hunter Mystery #4 – When Susan is accused of being a cat burglar, and a serial rapist is on the loose over by the mall, she takes off for New Orleans to attend a wedding and finds even more trouble in The Big Easy.... Humorous, sometimes ominous, _Big Easy Hunter_ is entertaining and perfect for easy, breezy reading.

Windy City Hunter, A Susan Hunter Mystery #5 \- It's two weeks before Christmas. Susan and her best friend, Darby, travel to Chicago to compete in a national cooking competition. They aren't even in Chicago an hour when they stumble upon a murder crime scene. The lead detective on the case is egged on by an eager insurance investigator, and Susan and Darby quickly become suspects. To make the weekend even more complicated, one of Darby's cooking ingredients is sabotaged during the contest, and unbeknownst to them, they befriend a local art forger. With Mick away in England, things become desperate for them in The Windy City.

Maple Leaf Hunter, A Susan Hunter Mystery #6 \- Susan and Mick have a romantic weekend planned in Niagara Falls and Toronto before her big meeting with a children's book publisher. When they decide to spend the following week at a fishing lodge on the Ottawa River, Darby, Nate, and Alex decide to come along, too. A Sasquatch, gold hunters, a kidnapping, and dangerous men all make for another unforgettable vacation for Susan.

Buckeye Hunter, A Susan Hunter Mystery #7 \- Susan travels to Southeast Ohio to assist in the grand opening of a Slimmers Weight Loss center. There she meets Jo, Pepper, and Jackie \- local sleuths from Two Sisters and a Journalist. When a murder is committed on Susan's doorstep, Jo is there to find the body. Susan can't believe the trouble swirling around her even though she is only two hours from home. She makes a life-changing decision in this final book of the Susan Hunter series.

Be sure to check out the Two Sisters and a Journalist series from Maddie Cochere:

Murder Under Construction, Two Sisters and a Journalist #1

Murder Is Where the Heart Is, Two Sisters and a Journalist #2

Murder Welcomes You to Buxley, Two Sisters and a Journalist #3

Murder Wins the Game - Two Sisters and a Journalist #4

Murder Between the Covers – Two Sisters and a Journalist #5

Murder – A Chummy Affair - Two Sisters and a Journalist #6

Murder Wears a Veil – Two Sisters and a Journalist #7

Murder Breaks the Bank – Two Sisters and a Journalist #8

Visit the official website of Maddie Cochere at Breezy Books:

http://www.breezybooks.com/

**Follow Maddie at** BookBub **to receive notices of new releases.**

