Aretha Moon and the Dead Hairdresser: Aretha Moon Book 2 (Aretha Moon Mysteries) Linda Ross (books for students to read TXT) 📖

We all turned toward the window at the sound of tires on the gravel outside.  I pushed aside the curtain and saw a black sedan stop.  And then, worse news.  Jimmy got out and stood surveying our cars.

“This isn’t good,” I said.  “It’s Jimmy.”

Thelma crossed herself, and we all headed for the front door.  No use trying to get away unnoticed when our cars were parked there.  Now I was wishing we’d pulled them somewhere inconspicuous.  I noticed that both Thelma and Rose had taken a couple of steps back so that I was the one standing in front as Jimmy opened the door, a scowl on his face.

He looked at all three of us before he spoke,.  “What are you doing here?”  He looked at me with his hands on his hips when he asked it, and I scrambled for a good answer.

I cleared my throat.  “Well, Thelma and I are working on the story.”

“I know that.”

“And we wanted to take a look around Kara’s place.”  It had been Rose who broached the idea, but I didn’t want to throw her under the bus.

“So you just peeled off the police tape and waltzed inside.”

“Not waltzed,” I said defensively.  “More like carefully stepped inside, just to have a look around.  We didn’t disturb anything.”

Jimmy didn’t say anything, just looked at each of us in turn again.  “All of you, go home,” he said finally.  “Now, before I change my mind and arrest you.”

We didn’t need any more encouragement.  All three of us did a quick walk to our cars.  I thanked Rose in a whisper, and she nodded without answering.  I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I had the car on the highway again and looked over at Thelma.

“You like him, don’t you?” she said.

“Who?”

“The detective.  Who else?”

I paused to frame my answer.  The short one would have been yes, I really, really like him.  But I wasn’t going to tell Thelma that.  “We sort of grew up together,” I said.  “And we’ve been friends a long time.”

“Just friends?”

“On his part,” I said.  I didn’t mention the past kiss.

Thelma just made a murmuring sound that could have been disagreement.  I let her out at her apartment, and she said she would see me in the morning at work.  I headed on home,

I exhaled with relief when I turned into my drive, but then I saw the black sedan parked in front of my house.  I sighed and got out of the car.  Jimmy got out of his car, closed the door and leaned against it.

“Well, you’re looking well,” I said cheerily.  I know.  But I couldn’t come up with anything else.

“I’m looking well?” Jimmy repeated from tight lips.  “You walk all over a murder victim’s house, dragging your two cohorts with you, and all you can say is You’re looking well?”

“I’m sorry, Jimmy.  Really.  I just needed some background for the story, something to give it context.”

“Aretha, I don’t think you appreciate how serious this is.”

His voice was rising again, and I suggested he come inside.  “I’ve got beer,” I said, coaxing him.  He didn’t budge, and I added, “Several kinds of cookies and some donuts too.”

“Well, okay,” he said grudgingly.  “And I’ll take a soda.”

I got out a Diet Coke for me and a regular one for Jimmy.  I emerged from my pantry with an armload of boxes that I spilled onto the table.  Chocolate chip, sugar, peanut butter and oatmeal cookies.  The finest that Pepperidge Farms and Little Debbie had to offer.

“I think I’ve got some brownies somewhere here too,” I said.

Jimmy shook his head.  “How is it that you don’t have diabetes?”

“I drink diet soda,” I said.

He didn’t have an answer to that.

We munched in silence for a couple of minutes while I tried to gauge Jimmy’s mood.  I think the sugar had calmed him down.  I don’t have vast experience with men despite my somewhat advanced age, but I’ve noticed that if they’ve turned into a raving lunatic a dessert will usually end the tirade.  And then they get talkative.  I think the male of the species must have perpetually low blood sugar.

 I waited for Jimmy to start talking, and it didn’t take long.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this,” he said at last, setting down his can of soda.  He looked me directly in the face and said, “This one really worries me, Aretha.  You should just leave it alone.”

“Why?  What’s different?”

“The sheer brutality of it.  Someone must have really hated Kara.  I’ve seen crimes of passion before, but nothing that compares with this.”

“How so?”

Jimmy sighed, and I realized how tired he sounded.  “This is just preliminary, and it’s not for publication, understand?”

I nodded.

“It looks like she was strangled while she was in her chair, maybe with a thin rope or something like that.  Then the killer waited to bash in her face and torso.”

“You mean he just sat there with her?”

Jimmy nodded.  “It looks like it.  We think he must have been gloating over the body.  Enjoying what he did.  And then he decided to obliterate her, to wipe her out of existence.  He used a heavy, blunt object to smash her face and upper torso.  The body’s a mess.  Someone hated Kara more than you can imagine.”

I was silent, feeling chilled as I thought about the implications.  To have attacked the body like that after she was already dead, the killer must have had no remorse for killing her.

“This is a really dangerous man,” Jimmy said.  “I doubt he’d have any qualms about killing again.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“None we can talk about at this point.  I’m looking for past boyfriends if you hear anything.”