Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews (read aloud txt) 📗

In exchange, I had a guide to show me around Peach Coast. Each week, she took me to different neighborhoods, parks, and beaches.

Jo groaned. “But I don’t usually jog this far—or this fast—when I exercise alone. I might not be able to keep up this pace two days in a row.”

I mulled that over for a few steps while monitoring the vehicle creeping toward us down the center of the two-way street. Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe not. The evidence that someone was out to get me was pretty overwhelming. It seemed rational to err on the side of self-preservation. The pre-dawn shadows and the vehicle’s headlights combined to mask its identifying features. But I could confirm that this SUV wasn’t the sedan that had tried to kill Willy and me.

Somewhat reassured, I glanced at Jo. “If you’re not up to it, then—”

The sudden scream of the SUV’s horn as it stopped beside us smashed the quiet morning and snatched several years from my life. From Jo’s panicked expression, it seemed she had the same reaction. I glared past her at the offending vehicle, which had stopped under one of the rare streetlamps. The tinted windows kept me from seeing the driver.

The passenger side window slid down, and a voice called from inside the car. “Jo? Marvey? What y’all doing out this time of night?”

Jo squinted toward the car. “Stella? Is that you?”

The voice did sound like Stella Lowry, one of our Peach Coast Library Book Club members. I winced as I looked around at the still-dark windows in the condos and homes around us. If Stella hadn’t woken the residents with her car horn, she’d surely woken the dead with her powerful lungs.

“It’s not nighttime, Stella.” I called back in a stage whisper. I followed Jo into the street, checking carefully to make sure there weren’t any mysterious speed demons lying in wait for us. “It’s the AM.”

In the dim light from the streetlamp, I read the other woman’s skeptical expression. It was also in her voice. “Is it dark?”

“Yes.” Knowing where this was going, I smiled.

“Then it’s night.” Stella nodded to emphasize her conclusion. Her glossy chestnut tresses swept over her shoulder.

Jo considered the direction from which Stella had arrived. “Where are you going at this hour?”

Stella sighed. Her pleased expression dimmed. “I have a friend over in Tampa who’s feeling pretty poorly. I thought I’d make a surprise visit to try to cheer her up.”

“Who are you going to see—”

“Jo.” I sent a pointed look to my partner-in-what-wasn’t-a-crime. “I’m sorry, but we should let Stella get moving. Besides, we need to finish our jog so we can get to work on time.”

We had no way of knowing what time the refuse trucks would pick up Bobby’s trash. That was the reason we’d agreed to err on the side of coming out at the armpit of dawn. If we chatted with Stella much longer, we risked getting to Bobby’s house after the trucks.

Her confusion cleared. “Oh, that’s right. Sorry. Drive safely, Stella, and have a nice visit.”

As we stepped away from her car, Stella tapped the vehicle’s horn twice. “Bye, ladies!” Her farewell could challenge an operatic crescendo.

“Oh my God.” I scanned the windows around us, looking for shifting curtains. “I’d be surprised if at least a dozen people aren’t watching us right now.”

Jo looked up and over her shoulders. She gave an awkward wave. “Sorry!” she called in a hushed tone.

“Let’s keep going. Just half a block more.” I turned to lead us to Bobby’s house. “How long will it take Stella to get to Tampa?”

Jo spread her arms in a shrug. “About four hours, give or take. She’s probably leaving extra early to beat rush-hour traffic.”

“I think it’s sweet of her to make the trip. I hope her friend appreciates it.”

“I’m sure she will.”

The mini-break we had talking with Stella must’ve revived Jo. She ran with much more energy as we started the final block. The house numbers on this side of the street were even digits. They increased as we jogged up the block. I’d estimated we were within three houses of Bobby’s when I noticed an older woman standing her trash can in front of the home next to our target. Light from nearby porches cast a glow around her, making her seem like a character from a young adult paranormal novel.

She watched us as we drew nearer. A cherubic smile softened her rosy-cheeked features. Her pale lavender track suit was roomy around her petite frame. “Ooh, you girls are out early this mornin’.”

Jo stopped and returned her smile. “So are you, ma’am.”

“I prefer to bring my trash out in the mornin’s.” A gentle breeze ruffled her wavy white hair as she glanced back at her trash can. Her gaze strayed up toward the still-dark sky, where the stars winked down at us. “I love this time of day. Don’t you?”

“Yes, it’s so peaceful.” Oh, no. I could see Bobby’s trash can. It was steps away at the curb in front of his house. I scanned the streets—no sign of the garbage truck, but I could hear it. The sound was faint, but it must be nearby. We were running out of time.

“It’s my favorite time of day too.” Jo’s smile was tense around the edges. She must be anxious also.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Our new friend shifted her stance, bringing my attention to her purple sneakers. “It’s so still. One of the rare times you can hear yourself think. I imagine that’s why you run this early.”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re right.” I caught Jo’s attention and hoped she could read my stare language: we need a distraction.

Jo nodded. Was she signaling me, or agreeing with what I’d said? “We usually jog this early.”

The older woman’s blue eyes examined our features. “Oh? I haven’t seen you before, and I’m out most mornin’s.”

I checked the time on my black-banned watch. We needed to move. Maybe if we continued jogging, we could circle back for Bobby’s trash. But the