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

When I tapped on the door and poked my head inside, I saw a woman in her thirties with curly brown hair cut short.  She was devoid of makeup but naturally pretty.  She was humming to herself as she typed efficiently.

She looked up and smiled, which made her even prettier.  “Come on in and have a seat.  I’m Ellen Drummond.  How can I help you?”

Thelma and I sat in the two chairs in front of the desk and told her our names.  We had decided to let Thelma ask the questions since she had the religious background.  An ex-nun would be a lot more delicate in her questioning than I would.  I’m just not talented that way.  It’s all I can do sometimes to keep my mouth from spilling out what my brain is thinking.  And that seems to rub people the wrong way.

“I don’t know if you heard,” Thelma said in a soft voice, the voice I bet she used to use when she was talking to the Mother Superior.  “The sister of one of your former members was killed recently.”

“Oh, dear.  Who was it?”

“Kara Koch.  Rose Sanderson’s sister.”

Ellen’s hand flew to her mouth.  “Oh, no.  Poor Rose.  She must be so upset.  I know she had really hoped to mend fences with her sister.”

“You know Rose well?” Thelma asked.

“Fairly well,” Ellen said.  “But Pastor Rick knows her better.  And he was the one who spent more time with Kara.  Not that it did any good.  Wicked of me to say that, but it’s true.”  She pressed a button on an intercom box and spoke into it.  “Pastor Rick, there are people here to see you.”  She released the button and looked back at us.  “He’s in the kitchen getting a snack.  The poor man has diabetes and has to constantly be on guard with his blood sugar.  Rose’s husband was diabetic too.  He suffered a heart attack and died last year.  It hit her hard.  I think that’s why she wanted to spend time with her sister.  She said you never know how much time you have left.”  She stopped and flushed.  “I guess that’s kind of ironic.  But only Jesus can count the days.”

I supposed that Jesus had better things to do than sit around adding up how many days each person had left, but what do I know.  Maybe he’s into math.  I tried to dispel my mental image of Jesus with an accountant’s green visor, punching numbers into a calculator.

We heard footsteps in the hall, and a young chunky man with unruly red hair came into the office.  He was wearing jeans, a plaid flannel shirt with bread crumbs on the front and a smile.

“Hey, there,” he said.  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Not at all,” Thelma said.  “I’m Thelma Murphy, and this is Aretha Moon.  We’re from Hannibal.”

“Aretha?” he asked, the smile broadening.  “Like the singer?”

“My mother loved her music,” I said.  “I can’t carry a tune, so I haven’t lived up to the name.”

“I’m sure you have your own talents,” he said.

Yeah, that would be eating and sleeping. I was good at both.

Pastor Rick pulled up a chair and sat next to us.

“They have some sad news,” Ellen said.  “Kara Koch has died.”

“Kara?” Rick repeated, and it was clear from the change in his face that he remembered her.  The smile had been replaced with a worried frown.  “What happened?”

“Actually, she was murdered,” I said, interested in seeing how he would respond.

His eyes widened, and he ran a hand through his hair.  He must do that a lot from the state of it.

He took a deep breath.  “Well, to be honest, I can’t say I’m shocked.  Saddened, but not really surprised.  She always lived life on the edge.”  He shook his head.  “Such a shame.  She had a lot of potential.  She just couldn’t make a connection with Jesus.”  He looked from one of us to the other.  “Did they catch the person who did it?”

“No,” Thelma said, “and that’s the reason we’re here.  We’d like to find out some information.”

“Are you with the police?” he asked.

Thelma bit her lip.  “No, not really.  We’re both reporters.  But the police know we’re here, and they approve.”

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk,” he said, looking at Ellen, who was nervously chewing on a fingernail.

“We wouldn’t want you to break any confidences, but it would help if you could tell us what you know about Kara and Rose.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes focused on the desk.  “They were very different women, and I wouldn’t have guessed they were sisters other than the physical resemblance.  I think they spent a good part of their childhood around here, but I never knew any of the family.  Rose joined the church the year I came here.  She struck me as a very sad woman.  She was married to a nice man, but he had health problems, and I got the feeling there was an emptiness in her life.”

“But she turned to Jesus,” Ellen said around the finger she was still chewing on.

“I like to think she found some peace,” Pastor Rick said.

“What about Kara?” Thelma asked.

Pastor Rick sighed the way I imagined a saint would sigh over a sinner.

“I think she tried at first,” he said.  “Well, let me back up a little.  She started coming to the church about the time she started working at the Lucky Seven Lounge.  It’s just up the road.  You can see the sign from here.”

“What did she do there?” I asked.

“Mostly bartending from what I heard.  Maybe filled in when a server was out.  She was real close with the owner, and when he started coming here to church she followed.”  He cleared his throat.  “Not that we approved