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

boyfriend.  She got so mad that she grabbed a wooden yardstick out of the closet and hit my backside and upper thighs with it while I ran for my life.  I waited until she was deep into her phone conversation again, and then I retrieved the yardstick.  When she went to pedal home that night she found a broken yardstick jammed into her bicycle chain.  I got into trouble with my parents, but I didn’t care.

“What the hell!” I yelled.

“So you’re going to be difficult,” he said.  “Well, we have a solution for bad girls who won’t take their punishment.”  He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and had one of my wrists cuffed before I could react.  As I said, for a fat guy he was pretty quick.

I pulled away before he could grab my other wrist, and he caught me on the butt with the belt as I was retreating.  Now I was starting to get mad.  I darted behind the desk and looked for a weapon to defend myself.  The obvious choice was one of the devices on the wall, and I grabbed the buggy whip.

“Not so smart now, are you?” I said, reaching across the desk to flick his outer thigh with the whip.

“Ow!” he said, moving back and fixing me with a steely glare.  He tried to reach me with the belt but ended up knocking off the framed photo, which crashed to the floor.  I glanced down and saw that it was of him with a woman and two girls, probably his daughters.  Nice looking family.

He was trying to maneuver around the desk, and when he lashed out with the belt again he caught the lamp, which went crashing to the floor.  My buggy whip had a longer reach and I cracked him a good one on his ass as he was clearing the desk.

“Damn you!” he shouted.  “You are the worst girl I’ve ever encountered.”

“We could have avoided all of this if you’d just answer my questions,” I told him, staying out of his range as he marched toward me.  “All I want to know is what your relationship was with Kara Koch.”

“Kara?”  He stopped in surprise.  “Are you a friend of hers?  I might have known.  It wasn’t enough that she tried to burn down my house, was it?”  He tried to reach me with the belt again, but I was too far away.  However, I was able to catch him another good one on his leg with the buggy whip.

“Boy, when I get a hold of you,” he said angrily.  “You’re in big trouble, little missy.”

“Don’t little missy me, Butterball!  I’ve had enough of your fun and games.  Now answer my questions.  Why did you throw Kara out?”

I could see he didn’t know what to do.  I could reach him with the buggy whip, but he couldn’t reach me with his belt.  A real conundrum for a man used to subduing women without incident.

He chewed his lip, then said, “She got too aggressive with the men.  Started cutting them when she was just supposed to use the crop.”

He seemed to think he’d found an opening, and he lunged at me with the belt raised.  I sidestepped him and gave him a good crack on his ass again.

“Yeow!” he screamed.  “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“What about Kara?” I insisted.  “What else can you tell me?”  I moved closer to him with the whip raised, and he backed up toward the corner of the room.

“One time she nearly beat Jeffrey Connell to death with the crop.  But you can’t tell him I told you.  He swore me to secrecy.”

I could imagine that was pretty embarrassing.  “Anything else, David?” I asked, giving him a light flick of the whip on his leg just for fun.

“Ow!  No, that’s it!  I swear!”  He took a big step back and hit the bookcase.  It tottered, and books began raining down like a giant hardcover hail storm.  “My God, you’re a fucking lunatic,” he yelled, shielding his head from the books with one arm and his ass from my whip with the other.  “Help!” he cried.  “For the love of God, someone help me!”

“What’s going on in there?” a woman called from the other side of the door, and it sounded like the French maid.

“Help me!” David called, and then he screamed.  “For God’s sake, help me!”  His voice had risen to a high-pitched shriek by now.

The doorknob rattled, and then someone inserted a key.  The door burst open, and Leonard and the French maid stared at us and the mess on the floor.  Books were strewn across the carpet, and the broken lamp and picture frame lay beside the desk.

“Well, you’re a lively one, aren’t you?” the French maid said to me.

“You!”  David pointed his belt at me.  “Get out of here, and don’t ever come back!”

I grabbed my purse from the floor and marched out of the room, my head held high, Leonard and the French maid escorting me to the door.  Up and down the hall doors opened and people looked out to see what the commotion was about.  One guy who stuck his head out was dressed as a cop, but he was obviously fake.  The badge on his shirt was the kind of tin star you used to find in cereal boxes.  Another guy who looked out was wearing a dress and makeup.  He didn’t look nearly as good as Avery.

“Listen, honey,” the French maid said in a low voice.  “If you ever want to come back as a dominatrix just let me know.  We can always use someone with your talent.”

I could hear Leonard hyperventilating beside me.

They opened the front door and chill air hit me in the face, bringing me back to reality.  So, I’d gotten thrown out of