Murder in the Marigolds by Dale Mayer (good books to read for 12 year olds txt) 📗

“I felt bad,” she said. “The woman gave me the blue bag and told me about the lawyer, so I felt like I should at least put in an order to give her something back for her trouble.”

“Well, that’s not a bad thing,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you’d give me that consideration, like maybe give me the information before you picked up the bag?”

“Well, I didn’t know about the bag until I spoke with her. And I couldn’t leave it with her,” she said. “That would be foolish.”

“That is true, but you could have pursued other avenues. However,” he said, “at least you’re here, and you have it now.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I do want to see what’s in there, you know?”

He groaned, realizing why she’d left it for him to pick up directly from her. “You know that I can’t do that. As evidence goes, it’s already tainted enough, thank you.”

“You can too,” she said, ignoring the scolding. “Just open it and pull it out the contents, and let’s take a look to see if anything of importance is in there.”

“If it’s of importance, it won’t be for here. It will be for my office.” But he was already back in the kitchen, rummaging through things.

She smiled, as she watched him. “See? It can’t be that bad,” she said.

“Sure, it is,” he muttered. “Right here, in the appointment book, it says that she was meeting you.”

“And she did. She came here, but then she was meeting somebody else at the Chinese restaurant, and I don’t know who that was.”

“Well, maybe it was you,” he said.

“After she barged in and blasted me so rudely? No way. Besides, it’s not like she invited me. So it was someone else.”

“Maybe,” he muttered. “Some initials are here.”

“See? There’s always something.” She watched, standing up with her plate and coming around into the kitchen, so she could take a look at what he found: a stack of loose papers, a notepad, and a laptop. But he still studied her little diary. “It doesn’t say anything else?”

He shook his head. “No. It doesn’t. Just that she had a meeting for dinner.”

“I wonder who?” She frowned at that. “I really wonder.”

“Who do you think it would be?” he asked curiously.

She shook her head. “I have no idea. It obviously wasn’t me. She never invited me, though I have no proof of that,” she muttered. “What are the initials?”

“It’s just an S.”

She threw up her hand. “That’s not helpful,” she said. “That could be anybody then.”

He laughed. “Or it could denote the place like the Starbucks close to where her car was. However, when people are murdered, rarely do the victims have a chance to set up the evidence, linking their murderer ahead of time, so that it’s obvious who did it.”

“Yeah, we should all have a little bit of warning,” she muttered. “But that stabbing …” She shook her head. “Was she killed in the vehicle?”

“We don’t think so,” he said. Then he stopped, glared at her, and said, “Stop asking me questions.”

“Well, I can hardly stop asking questions when it relates to me.”

“Well, it doesn’t,” he said. “Remember that.”

“I hope it doesn’t relate to me,” she muttered. She kept trying to see what he was up to but could see nothing, as he flipped through the paperwork. She sighed. “I don’t know,” she said. “It doesn’t look like anything interesting is there.”

“No,” he said. “I’m just not sure what’s going on. Well, I’ll take this in,” he said. “Forensics wants the laptop, and we’ll take a look at the rest of this.” He glanced at her and asked, “And you didn’t look at it, did you?”

“No, for Pete’s sake!” And she meant that. “And, other than her barging in here, I didn’t meet with her.”

“I know,” he said. “We’ll check the security cameras at the restaurant.”

“The waitress said nobody showed up.”

“So Robin probably went to meet them somewhere else then,” he said. “We’ll check the cameras anyway.”

“Good,” she said. “It still wasn’t me.”

“Good,” he said. “Make sure it isn’t you.” And, on that cryptic note, he turned and left.

She frowned. He obviously was in a mood because he hadn’t even tried to take some of her food. She grabbed the rest of it and dumped it onto her plate. She might as well enjoy a solid meal. It would be the first one she’d had in several days. She dug in.

Chapter 4

Sunday Morning …

The next day, Doreen woke up early in the morning with a heavy heart. Something was so weird about being involved in a case like this, where she was a suspect. Mack was studiously keeping away from her. Mostly because she kept asking questions, and then he ended up giving away information he wasn’t supposed to. But they always talked daily, and, although she’d seen him last night, it seemed like he did not want any contact. She knew he wouldn’t have been here at all if it weren’t for the fact that she had Robin’s briefcase in her possession.

Doreen hadn’t even called Nan when Doreen was lonely because she didn’t know what to say. Everybody was looking at her sideways. Or at least Doreen felt that way. She hadn’t even gone for walks with her animals to see if anybody around here had comments, insights, information. Chances were, most people didn’t even know about Robin’s death yet.

Doreen sat up in bed, rubbed her face, and then smiled when she saw all the animals sprawled out on her bed with her. “Good thing we have this big bed, guys,” she muttered, reaching a hand down to scratch both furry bellies. Eight legs faced the ceiling, and Thaddeus sat on the roost at the end of the bed, one of his many perches throughout the house. Obviously all of them were sleeping, as if this were an unaccustomed lay-in, which, if she were honest, it was. It wasn’t that often they had a chance to do this.

And even now