Too Sweet to Die T. Doyle (tharntype novel english .TXT) 📖

bought me a Mother’s Day gift that year.” Sadness swept through me at the bittersweet memory of how young Oscar was and how he thrived with some love and attention in our home. “It’s the angel statue in the family room.”

Ray typed on the screen and frowned. “Hmm. And when’s your birthday?”

“April 23rd.”

“Got it.” He gave me a small, sad smile. “It’s your birthday and the day he moved in. 423504.”

I blinked rapidly. I should have worked harder to remain closer to Oscar, even when he and Drew drifted apart. But crying while at lunch with a man not my husband was not okay. I blew out a breath, forcing the out the heartache and focused on bringing Oscar justice. I wrapped the other half of my sandwich in the paper. “Quitting school also meant he had to start paying off the student loan now.”

“But the payments are only a couple of hundred a month, and if he paid it off early, he saved the interest payments.” Ray slid the tablet toward me. “Check this out.” Ray had opened Tyler’s email.

I read the notification from Stevens College. “Oscar was on academic probation for his second semester.”

“He was about to be kicked out of school, which meant he was probably freaked out about losing his housing, too.” Ray pulled the tablet toward him. He opened the web browser and opened the history tab. We read through the list of websites Oscar recently visited. “Here’s the news story you talked about.” He pointed to the web address.

Oscar’s history went back for more than a month and revealed his growing interest in poker sites and news stories regarding illegal immigrants.

I glanced at my watch. What I wanted to do was read through everything Oscar had researched, but my shift started in thirty minutes. “I have to go to work.”

“Okay. I’ll check out the websites Oscar visited last month. I think it’s time to talk to the police about what we’ve found and suspect. Are you okay if I take your notebook?” Ray asked.

“Sure.” I grabbed my laptop and slid out of the booth.

“Text me if my mom is still angry about yesterday’s drug search.” He pulled the bill of his hat lower over his eyes.

“I will.” I walked outside with him.

Ray held the door open and Carole, my regular stylist, entered the deli.

She nearly incinerated me with the laser-like glare.

The door closed and Ray whistled. “Who was that?”

“Carole, my stylist. She must’ve found out I went to Curl Up and Dye.”

Ray pushed his cap back and seemed to swagger in place. “It feels good not to be on the receiving end of that look, for once.”

“I’ll bake her some brownies and drop by and explain everything later. I didn’t do anything wrong.” I walked toward my car.

“Right.” Ray’s light tone sounded reasonable. “You just decided to spend time with a different stylist. It’s not like you had an agreement to be exclusive.” He gave me a side-eye and smirk.

“Haircuts aren’t the same thing as relationships, and you know it.” I unlocked my car.

He held my car door open. “Not true. Getting a drink with someone is completely casual. Trusting them with a pair of scissors and your hair?” Ray stepped back. “That’s significant.”

I slammed the car door, hating that he was right. Smoothing things over with Carole could require more than brownies. I added it to the list of things to feel guilty about, right before recognizing the Crane’s adopted children and after not really knowing Oscar.

I called my sister-in-law, Angela, on my drive to work.

“Hey Charlie, what’s up?” I heard the whirring of a blender in the background.

“I have a weird question about Paul’s adoption for you.” I pulled over before heading onto the winding country road. “Did you ever meet his biological father?”

The blender turned off. “No. Why? What’s going on?” Angela’s questions came rapid-fire. I’d poked the momma-bear.

“I think Tyler might be involved in Oscar’s murder. I think it could be about some of the adoptions he’s done recently and it got me thinking about Paul’s adoption.”

“I never met his biological father, but he’s listed on the birth certificate and Tyler had him sign over his paternal rights so we could legally adopt Paul.”

Relief, fast and swift slid like bubbles through my veins. “Thank god.”

“Charlie, Tyler was amazing through that whole process. I can’t imagine him being involved in anything illegal. Especially not murder.” Her voice softened. “Honey, it can’t be him.”

“You’re right.” I sounded convincing, but the bubbles in my veins burst leaving dread, heavy, uncomfortable. Tyler was involved. I knew it. But I also didn’t think he could commit murder. Maybe he knew who killed Oscar, though. Maybe Oscar tried to blackmail Tyler and Tyler’s partner killed Oscar. And I’d forgotten to tell Ray and Joe about the SUV outside of Tyler’s office. Was the SUV driver the killer?

“Oscar’s death might have been an accident,” Angela said kindly, like easing bad news.

“Maybe. I’m headed to work, but I’ll see you this weekend.” We said our goodbyes and I continued to work. Today, our sign read Sunnyview Villages.

Had the anagram anarchist moved on?

Chapter Twenty

I trudged toward the nurses’ station and recognized Nora’s shape, but not the flaming red hair.

Nora chatted with the ward clerk, Eric. She waved at me and tilted her head back. “It’s Lucille Ball red.” She glowed, or rather, her hair glowed.

“Yes, it is,” I said. Tangerine described the shade better. But today her eyebrows matched. “You look…” Orange. “Happy and younger.”

Marabel joined us at the desk.

“Doesn’t she?” I said to Marabel.

“Much younger.” Marabel’s warm smile didn’t reach her eyes, reminding me my friend was under stress, too.

More guilt slid onto my shoulders.

Marabel nodded to Eric. “We’re going to do the shift reports in my office. I need you to stay until it’s over.”

“Sure.” Eric sounded apathetic, but then he’d never been a ray of sunshine.

“At the desk,” Marabel added.

He slumped back but nodded indicating he’d heard her. She shot me a look that