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

is good.  He was with people the whole time and no evidence that he caught a plane back home at any point.”

“So who would want both Kara and Stephanie dead?” I wondered out loud.  “What’s the connection?”

“There was that confrontation they had at the salon close to the time they were both killed, but nobody knows what it was about.”

I mentally went over the road between Kara’s house and Stephanie’s.  Was there something there that tied the two of them together?  “The car,” I said.  “Kara’s car had damage from hitting that tree.  What if someone used her car to run down Stephanie and then hit the tree to cover it up?”

“I thought of that.  We’ve got a team going over the car for any evidence.”

“So someone could have used Kara’s car to run down Stephanie.  Or Kara could have run down Stephanie and then someone killed her.”

“That second one sounds more plausible.  Maybe someone saw her kill Stephanie, someone who cared about Stephanie or had a relationship with her.”

“A lover?”

“Possibly.  We haven’t been able to sit down with her husband yet.”

I sighed.  “I sure wish I knew what that little spat was that she had with Kara.”  I looked out the window as a car pulled up the driveway.  “Oh, no.”

“What’s wrong?”  Jimmy moved to the window.

“Dad and Momo are here.  And they’re early.  When I left Eileen’s, she was lying down with the beginning of a migraine.  I guess I’d better get over there.”  I stopped and gave Jimmy my most inviting smile.  “You wouldn’t want to come with me, would you?  There’s a killer Jello salad, and I bet Eileen has lunch meat and cheese for sandwiches.  And probably dessert.”

Jimmy hesitated, and I was pretty sure I had him.

“She’s probably got barbecued potato chips too.”

“Well, I’m hungry,” he said, “and I should say hello to your dad.” I noticed that Momo didn’t get a mention.

 We walked over to Eileen’s house in time to help Tiffany and Desi carry in the luggage.  As usual, Dad had one suitcase, and Momo had four.  Dad and Momo were brother and sister, but they reminded me of that nursery rhyme about Jack Spratt and his wife.  Dad was portly with white hair and a prominent bald spot, and Momo was thin with dyed hair that tended toward blue.  Both wore glasses though.  And Momo was a dedicated Christian, although we weren’t sure exactly which church was her favorite.

I hugged Dad and Momo and said, “You remember Jimmy Burrell, don’t you?”

Dad shook his hand warmly and said, “I’ll always remember you shooting hoops next door.”  Jimmy’s grandmother had lived next door to us, and that’s how Jimmy and I got acquainted, shooting baskets in the driveway.  And that was where I first developed a crush on Jimmy.  It had only grown in the intervening years.

“You’re looking good, Dad,” I said.  “How’s the grass growing?”  Dad was in a constant battle to grow grass and then to mow it.  He was losing a good patch of his hair, so I figured the grass was a substitute for that.

“Cash flow’s fine,” he said, “but CDs sure don’t pay what they used to.”  I may have mentioned that my father is hard of hearing, but too vain to wear a hearing aid.

“You and Jimmy aren’t living together, are you?” Momo demanded.

I felt another hot flash coming on, but Jimmy laughed.

“I keep asking her,” he said, “but she turns me down.”

“Honestly, Momo,” I said.  “I’m fifty years old.  I’m not a young girl.”  Momo made me feel more like fifteen than fifty.

“All the more reason to think about your immortal soul,” Momo advised me as she trooped inside.

I put my hand over my face and groaned.  “Are you sure you want to stay?” I asked Jimmy.

“You promised me a lunch meat and cheese sandwich and barbecued potato chips.”

Luckily I could come through on that promise.  Tiffany and Desi had fetched Eileen, who was looking wild-eyed at Dad and Momo’s early arrival.  But she gamely set out bread, lunch meat, cheese, sliced tomatoes, lettuce, condiments, the Jello salad and two kinds of potato chips.  We all filled our plates and sat at the kitchen table.  Tiffany and Desi took their sandwiches upstairs, and I’m sure Eileen wished she could join them.

Momo told grim stories of the drive up from Florida, rife with gas station rest rooms that had no sanitary cover for the toilet seat and—horrors!--vending machines that dispensed sex items.  Momo fanned herself while she told the story.  “I was shocked,” she said, “just shocked.  What is this country coming to?”  She looked across the table at Jimmy.  “You probably lock up sex perverts all the time.”

“I try, but she keeps getting bailed out,” he said without missing a beat, and then he ruffled my hair.  I bit back a laugh, but Momo looked horrified.

“Who’s sailing out?” Dad asked.  “We didn’t go to war, did we?”

“No, Dad,” Eileen said.  “Nobody’s sailing anywhere.”  I could tell from her pinched face that her migraine was coming back.  “Now, who wants cake?”

“As long as it’s a small piece,” Momo said.  “I’ll be up all night taking antacids.  I have a delicate stomach.”  We had all heard multiple stories of Momo’s delicate stomach.  None of us wanted to hear any more of them.

Eileen cut the cake, yellow with chocolate frosting, and passed around the plates.  We were all eating, drinking and talking about the changes in Hannibal since Dad and Momo last visited when my cell phone dinged with a message.  I pulled it out of my pocket and checked it, figuring it was probably Lorenzo with another story idea.

Just a rat this time.  Next time you’ll end up like Kara.  Leave me alone.

I stared at the screen in horror.  And then I said, “Shit!”