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

She wanted.

When Jimmy showed up I told him the bad news that we were going to have to have pizza with Dad and Momo.  He got a pained expression on his face, but he didn’t bolt for the door.  That’s one of the many things I like about Jimmy.  He’s patient.  And kind.  And he’ll put up with a certain amount of crap from my family.

We picked up three large pizzas at Little Caesar’s and took them back to Eileen’s house.  And more arguments ensued.

Dad didn’t want pepperoni on his because it gave him gas, but he wasn’t willing to pick the pepperoni off.  So he had to eat the pizza with hamburger and onion because he claimed he couldn’t eat the mushrooms that were on the sausage and mushroom pizza.  Momo was dissatisfied in general.  Eileen and the girls happily scarfed down some of each pizza, and Jimmy and I polished off the rest.

“Boy, am I dreading Thanksgiving,” I said when we were back at my place.  “And I think I just upped the craziness factor today.”

“Why?  What did you do?”

“I invited a woman who was going to be alone on Thanksgiving.”

“Well, that’s a nice thing to do.”

“But this particular woman is the unluckiest woman in the world.”  And I proceeded to tell Jimmy about Darlene Gregory.

“Actually, I remember her,” Jimmy said when I was done.

“You do?”

“Yeah.  One of the times she got hit by lightning her boyfriend was standing next to her.  He was knocked out, and he filed a complaint against her.”

“Against her?  What for?”

“Apparently his cell phone was ruined, and the ring in his nose singed off part of the skin there.  He claimed the lightning was her fault because she’s a jinx.”

“And how did that end?”

“The judge laughed it out of court.”

I considered that.  “Well, at least she didn’t have bad luck there.”

“Well, I heard that the judge’s gavel broke, bounced off the bench and hit Darlene in the head, but other than that, no bad luck.”

“Geez,” I said.  “Do you believe in bad luck?”

“Not really.  Every once in a while someone gets a bad break, but most of the people I see create their own luck, good or bad.”

“So you’re not going to be nervous about her coming to Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Honey, your dad and aunt create so much drama that Darlene will blend into the wallpaper.”

“Well, I hope you’re right.  I’ve had enough of bad stuff.”

“Don’t worry.  We’ll get this murder cleared up soon, and things will be back to normal.”

If only.

* * * * *

Thelma and I left the office the next morning and grabbed coffee along the way.  I got two donuts as well.  We started by driving out to Stephanie Riley’s house.  We took a detour and went past Loren Haskell’s Heavy Metal Studio.  I slowed down at the drive, and we both craned our necks to get a look at the barn.  I couldn’t help wondering if he was the big guy with dark hair that Rose had mentioned.

“We really need to look around this place some more,” I said.  “It’s close to Kara’s place, they were dating and the breakup wasn’t amicable.  Plus, I think he might have been the guy that Stephanie was seeing.”

“So you’re going to just drop by and say, ‘Hey, you don’t mind if I look around for evidence you killed Kara, do you?’”

“Of course not,” I said.  I’d stopped the car and I was craning my neck to get a better look at the barn.  “I’m not suicidal.”

At that moment, Loren stepped out of the barn into the morning light, shading his eyes against the sun.  I wasn’t expecting to see him, and I stared in surprise.  And he turned his head and looked right at me.

Oh, crap.

I pulled away as fast as I dared.

“Well, that went well,” Thelma said dryly.  “Now maybe we can surprise Stephanie’s husband too.”

“He’s not home,” I insisted.  “He has to work.”

“He also just lost his wife.  He’s probably got funeral arrangements to make.  And maybe he’s arranging things from home.”

“I doubt it.  We’ll look for his car.”

“If I’m going to work with you I need more life insurance,” Thelma grumbled.

I looked at Ralph Pierce’s farm as we drove by and thought fondly of the brownies.  I could use a brownie about now.  The donuts had helped, but chocolate is always better.  A woman can go into battle when she’s had chocolate.

I drove slowly past the Riley house and then turned around in a dirt road that led into a field.  “Doesn’t look like anybody home,” I said.

I backed the car into the dirt road, and we walked from there.  As we headed up the drive and approached the house, I could feel my breath quicken.  And not just because I’m out of shape.  Thelma was keeping up a steady stream of complaints about my operating methods.

“Okay,” I said when we reached the house.  “First we ring the bell just to make sure no one’s home.”

“And if her husband comes to the door?”

“We’re selling religion.”

“And just what religion are we?”

“I don’t know.  Make up something.  The Church of the Divine Hairdo.  Whatever.  Just play it by ear.”

“Church of the Divine Hairdo,” Thelma muttered under her breath.  “Oh, dear God.”

Luckily, no one came to the door when I pressed the bell.  I had a feeling the Church of the Divine Hairdo would have raised some suspicions.  We waited a decent interval, then walked around the house, looking in windows.

I could see a coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter and a box of cereal on the table.  So someone had been there.  Probably the husband, now the widower.  That was