Aretha Moon and the Dead Hairdresser: Aretha Moon Book 2 (Aretha Moon Mysteries) by Linda Ross (reading books for 7 year olds .TXT) 📗

looked for all the world as though he was a little boy again and he’d been caught smoking behind the school.

“How long had you been seeing her?” Thelma asked.

Derek’s voice actually shook when he answered.  “I guess it was about three years off and on.  She was crazy, and I mean crazy.  That b--”  He cleared his throat.  “Sorry, Sister.  That girl was into a lot of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Thelma demanded.

“Weird crap.  Like the sex stuff.”  He looked down, and his voice trailed off.

“I’ve heard it all, Derek.  It’s not going to shock me.  What was she into?”

I swear Derek blushed.  “Well, she liked it rough.”

“You mean she liked to be hit?”

“Not exactly.  She liked to do the hitting.  And sometimes when she got real excited she liked to use a knife.”

“A knife?”  My voice must have gone up three octaves when I said it.  As far as I was concerned, this went way beyond weird.

“Yeah.  She liked to make little cuts on a guy.  Believe me, it was creepy.  That’s why I broke it off.”  He rolled up his sleeve and shoved his arm toward us.  On his bicep was a scar in the shape of an X.

“Understandable,” Thelma said, totally unruffled.  “I take it she did that.”

“Yeah, scared the crap out of me.  I couldn’t get it to stop bleeding.  And it just got her hotter.”

“What else was she into?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I heard that she’d been in jail a few years ago.  It was before she came to Hannibal.”

“Any idea what she did?”

“She wouldn’t say, but I got the feeling it was some kind of theft or something like that.  One time when I was at her place a woman came around, and Kara took her into the bedroom to talk.  When she came out she was in a good mood, and the woman left.”

“Drugs?” Thelma asked.

“I don’t think so.  I heard one of them say something about Walmart.  At least that’s what it sounded like.”

“Did you hear the woman’s name?” Thelma asked.

Derek hesitated.  “Kara never said her last name, but she had a weird first name.  Hominy.”

“Like the grits?” I asked.

“What are grits?”  Derek looked at me blankly.

“You sure it wasn’t Harmony or something like that?” Thelma asked.

Derek shook his head.  “I remember saying something to Kara after she left.  It was Hominy.”  He paused and looked at Thelma.  “I’m sorry, Sister, but that’s all I know.”

“Well, if you think of anything else, give us a call at The Spyglass,” Thelma said.  Derek stood up, and Thelma added, “And, Derek, pull up your pants.  You look like a toddler with a full diaper.”

“Yes, Sister,” Derek said, slinking away meekly.  There was a long pause after Derek got back onto the stage.

“Sister Mary Alphonsus?” I said incredulously.  “Really?”

Brigid appeared at that moment with our food, so we thanked her and waited until she’d gone away.  I gulped half my iced tea while I waited for Thelma to say something.

“I guess you’re wondering what that was about,” she said finally.

“Well, yes.”

Thelma sighed.  “I professed my vows when I was eighteen.  I was sent to college, where I got a master’s in English literature, and I was assigned to teach in the parochial school system.  I ended up teaching high school English.”

“And Derek was one of your students?”

Thelma’s mouth quirked up wryly.  “One of many.  He’s not a bad kid, but he has no motivation.  No life purpose.  You see that a lot.”

“So did you used to smack the kids with a ruler?”  I was trying to picture that.

“Only because the principal wouldn’t give me a gun,” she said.

“What was it he called you?  Sister Alf?”

“The kids had nicknames for all the sisters.  Sister Alf wasn’t so bad, but I felt sorry for Sister Priscilla Paul.”

“Let me guess.  Sister Pee Pee?”

“You got it.  Eventually we had to keep an eye on her around the wine.”

“But you’re no longer a nun,” I said.  “How does that work?”

“I was allowed to leave the order when my life changed and staying became too difficult.”  She took a deep breath, and I wondered what she wasn’t saying.  “But, having taken a vow of poverty early on, I now needed to make a living.  I taught in a small private school for a while, but they wanted younger teachers.  So here I am.  My brother knows Lorenzo and helped me get the job.”

“I happen to know that Lorenzo doesn’t pay huge salaries.”

“My needs aren’t great,” she said.  “I assume the same is true for you.”

I shrugged.  “As long as I can afford cheesecake and diet soda I’m good.”

“It’s no wonder you’re cranky with that kind of diet.”

“I’m not cranky,” I protested.  “Maybe once in a while when I get a hot flash.”

“That’s not what I hear around the office.”

I was offended that Lorenzo and Carl would not only think I was cranky, but would say it out loud.  It made me want to punch them, which I realized sort of supported their argument.  And then there were the other reporters, maybe eight total, but I didn’t know them well.  Occasionally we all went out for a drink after work, but mostly we were busy working on our own stories.  Cranky. Damn.

“I just don’t see it,” I said, sulking.  “I’m not cranky.”

“Oh, you’re cranky all right,” said a male voice, and I looked up to see Jimmy standing by the table.  “And it’s one of your more endearing qualities.”  A half smile played around his mouth.

I could feel another hot flash coming on.

I covered the awkward moment by introducing Jimmy to Thelma, leaving out the Sister Alf part.

“So now you’re both working on the murder story?” he