Aretha Moon and the Dead Hairdresser: Aretha Moon Book 2 (Aretha Moon Mysteries)

by Linda Ross

  “Naw. I never saw ‘em there. The wife used to jog on the road, all sporty looking, like she was in a big city or something. Fancy sneakers, short shorts and some kind of cap. Wore a necklace and bracelets while she jogged too. If you ask me, she could get more exercise if she was to farm a piece of land. She ran like one of those bulldogs, all wobbly. She didn’t come this way too much ‘cause of Puddin’.”

  “So you never heard her arguing with Kara?” Thelma asked.

  He shook his head. “There was a blond woman there a couple of times that I saw. Drove a black Audi. She left before I got a look at the plate. But there was never any fighting between them.”

  “Rose,” I said to Thelma, and she nodded.

  “No one else?” Thelma asked.

  “Well, there was a van there a couple of weeks ago. Some rug cleaning company. Sun Ray or something like that.”

  “She was renting, wasn’t she?” Thelma asked. “Was she in the habit of hiring her own rug cleaners?”

  Mr. Pierce shook his head slowly. “No, I guess he coulda been one of the boyfriends. The van was there a couple of hours, but I didn’t think anything of it.”

  “Well, you’ve been very helpful,” Thelma said. I reached for another brownie, but she smacked my hand. The brownie broke, and I stuffed the half in my mouth. “If you think of anything else, just give us a call. She put a business card on the table.

  “Come on by anytime,” he said. “Puddin’ and me, we’re always ready to sit down to some pie.”

  Puddin’ followed us to the door, and Thelma caught my arm when I tripped over the threshold. “Oops,” I said and giggled. I realized I was twirling my keys on my finger.

  “I’m driving,” Thelma announced, snatching the keys from me.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “You’re in no condition to drive.” Thelma opened the passenger door for me, pushed me inside and got in the driver’s seat.

  “What do you mean I’m in no condition to drive?” I demanded. I saw a deer off in the corn field, tense and alert, watching the car. And that started me giggling again. “That deer looks just like Momo when she watches The Shopping Network. She’s always buying crap on there. Do you know she owns three salad spinners and a spiralizer?”

  “What’s a spiralizer?”

  “It makes zucchini out of noodles or noodles out of zucchini or something like that. I don’t really understand it.”

  “Now there’s an understatement. Why does she need three salad spinners?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she uses one as a foot bath. Takes her tootsies for a spin.” That struck me as incredibly funny, and I started giggling all over again.

  Thelma sighed.

  “Really, I’m fine. You should pull over and let me drive.”

  “Not a chance. We’re going to stop at the diner and get you a diet cola. Something to bring you back to earth.”

  “Seriously, I’m fine,” I said as we went into the Mark Twain Dinette and I tripped over the threshold. “These things are higher than they used to be,” I complained.

  “That’s not the only thing that’s higher,” Thelma muttered. She pushed me into a booth and sat down opposite. She did the ordering, getting a coffee for herself and a Diet Pepsi for me.

  “Can’t I have pie?” I asked. “I never finished my apple pie.”

  “That’s because you ate three brownies. I kept trying to tell you.”

  “All you did was twitch your head,” I said. “What were you doing, sending code?”

  “Those plants on the back porch. They weren’t exactly philodendrons.”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, boy,” Thelma said, looking at the door. “Just what we need now.”

  I tried to crane my head around to look and felt dizzy. Then Jimmy was standing by the booth. “How did you do that?” I asked.

  “Do what?”

  “You were in the doorway and now you’re right here.”

  Jimmy looked at me and then at Thelma. Slowly he slid into the booth next to me, frowning.

  “What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously.

  “it’s like magic,” I said. “You were there and now you’re here.” I poked his bicep with each word. I liked the feel of his bicep, nice and hard. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt under a leather jacket. He looked good. Really good.

  “You’re high,” he said incredulously. Then to Thelma, “She’s high.”

  “As a kite,” Thelma agreed.

  “How did this happen?”

  I leaned closer to him and lowered my voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but we went to see Ralph Pierce. Hey,” I said, something just occurring to me. “Eileen is dating Ralph McCready. They’re both Ralphs. Do you think they’re brothers?”

  “Oh, boy,” Thelma said, covering her face with her hands.

  “Let me guess,” Jimmy said. “You smoked a little weed during your visit.”

  “Brownies,” Thelma said. “And apparently Aretha is an innocent. She had no idea.”

  Jimmy started to smile, then tried to hide it. “How the hell did you two get near the place? When I went out there with another officer we couldn’t even get out of the car because of that dog.”

  “Aretha is really good with dogs. And with Mr. Pierce.” Thelma flipped open her phone and scrolled to a photo, then pushed it across the table to Jimmy. “A list of all the people who visited Kara. Pierce got their license plate numbers.”

  Jimmy whistled. “Nice.” He looked at me and shook his head. “I have a new appreciation of your talents.”

  “Well, you should,” I said. “I’m really very versatile. I can show you if you like.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

  “Okay,” Jimmy said, standing up. “I’m taking her home to sober up. Can you make an excuse at work?”

  Thelma nodded. “I’ll leave her car at the office.”

  “Work,” I said, frowning at Jimmy. “So why aren’t you there? At work?”

  “Got a day off. And, God help me, this is how I’m spending the rest of it.”

  Jimmy drove me home and took my keys to unlock the door for me. I expected to be deposited inside while he went his merry way, but he came in with me. Nancy sniffed his shoes and gave him the poodle equivalent of a flirty smile.

  “I have to get her out before she pees on your shoes,” I said, scooping up Nancy and heading for the door. Too late. I was trailing a pee leak, which was now on my shirt and jeans. When I brought Nancy back in, Jimmy told me to get a shower and firmly pointed me in the direction of the bathroom.

  “And don’t eat the soap,” he said. I thought that was unnecessarily insulting, but on second thought my almond oil soap did smell pretty good and I was starting to get hungry.

  I felt a lot better after showering and washing my hair. I started to put my clothes back on, but they smelled of dog pee. I slipped my underpants back on since my jeans had protected them and tossed everything else in the hamper. I had a thick green terrycloth robe hanging on the door, and I put that on and tied it tightly at the waist. I planned on slipping out to my bedroom and finding some clean clothes, but when I opened the door Jimmy called to me from the kitchen.

  “Where’s your popcorn popper?”

  “Top shelf in the pantry,” I said. I stood there uncertainly.

  Jimmy gestured to the couch. “Sit down. I put a Diet Coke on the coffee table for you. I’ll get the popcorn made.”

  So I sat and gathered my robe around me. I propped my bare feet on the coffee table while I started on the soda. I was still feeling pretty woozy, and I giggled when I looked at my toes.

  Jimmy had the popcorn made in ten minutes and came to sit beside me. The popcorn smelled heavenly, and I dug in. “I’m starved,” I said. I giggled again.

  “Yeah, I figured you would be. I ordered a pizza from the Brick Oven, and it should be here any minute.” He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. The movie was Planes, Trains and Automobiles, and I got an idea. The pizza arrived at that mom
ent, and while Jimmy was meeting the delivery guy at the door I got up and pulled a permanent marker from a kitchen drawer. I sat back down and started drawing a face and hair on the nail of my big toe.

  “There,” I said in satisfaction.

  Jimmy brought the pizza in and set it on the coffee table, then looked at my toe.

  “What happened here?” he asked.

  “Don’t you think my toe looks like John Candy?” I wiggled it in the air and did my best John Candy impression. “My toe looks like John Candy, and I’m an ace reporter.”

  “Honey, eat your pizza.”

  I didn’t need any encouragement on that part. I dug into the pizza and ate more than half of it. Then I went back to the popcorn. “I’m eating for two,” I told Jimmy. “Me and John Candy.”

  Jimmy sighed and turned down the volume on the movie. “Why don’t we do something? Do you have any cards?”

  “Somewhere,” I said. “The only thing I have right now is that puzzle that Eileen gave me.”

  “Maybe you should work on that,” he suggested. “Some people need something to do after they’ve had weed.”

  “Okay.” I brought the puzzle over and dumped it out on the coffee table. “Let’s put this sucker together.”

  “Aretha, aren’t you going to look at the picture so you know what it’s supposed to look like?”

  I turned over the box top and saw a meadow with butterflies and flowers. Exactly what I would expect Eileen to buy.

  “Whatever,” I said, turning the box top face down again. I went to work on the puzzle while Jimmy watched the movie. It got pretty frustrating when pieces wouldn’t fit, and when I reached my limit I got up and got a pair of scissors. I was going to show that puzzle it couldn’t mess with me, even if I had eaten weed brownies.

  Nancy had settled down for the night after sharing some pizza, and she was snoring in the armchair.

  I trimmed one puzzle piece after another until they fit together. I hated jigsaw puzzles, but I was discovering that this new method of doing them wasn’t half bad.

  By the time the movie was over I had finished the puzzle, and it was starting to get dark outside. I was suddenly feeling sleepy. Jimmy stretched, then looked down at the puzzle and did a double take. About half the pieces were still wrong side up so they were devoid of color, and since I had trimmed pieces to fit there were no straight edges to the puzzle. It sort of looked like the state of California.

  “I don’t think this is what your sister had in mind,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, she can blow it out her ear,” I said around a yawn.

  A smile played at the corners of Jimmy’s mouth. “Simmer down, champ. You’ve done a commendable job putting it together.”

  “You got that right.” I looked at Jimmy’s face and sucked in my breath. His eyes were so blue, and with the touch of gray at his temples he was devastatingly handsome.

  “You know,” he said, “you’re kind of cute when you’re high on weed.”

  “Bet you say that to all the perps.”

  “Only the ones I like.” His smile grew and he reached out to trail a finger down the side of my face. His hand went lower and skimmed the top of my breasts, making me suck in my breath again. His other hand started at my knee and slowly stroked up my leg. Oh, Lordy.

  He pushed my robe up until my thighs came into view, and his hand stroked the inside of them.

  I groaned. “My thighs are too fat,” I blurted out, afraid he would notice that at any moment.

  “Your thighs are just right,” he said softly. “Why are you always worried about being too fat?”

  “Because that’s what I am, a fat worrier.”

  “Would I do this to someone who’s too fat?” he asked, kissing me lightly around my mouth before brushing his lips across mine again and again. I groaned, and he deepened the kiss. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Because I’m too fat?”

  “Because you’re still high. I’m taking unfair advantage.”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” I advised him, grabbing the front of his T-shirt and pulling him against me. “Take some more advantage. Take all the advantage you want.”

  Jimmy smiled. “Maybe just a little.” And he went back to kissing. It was blissful. I’m not sure what happened next, but I think I went to sleep. I know. Perfect timing, right?

  Cold light was coming in the bedroom window when I woke up the next morning. I had a headache, and I was too tired to move a muscle. I glanced down and saw I was still in my robe, and there was a blanket over me. I was ready to go back to sleep.

  “Time to get up, honey,” Jimmy said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I opened one eye, and he held out a cold can of Diet Coke. “Just to get your engine started.”

  I sat up, winced, and took the can. “What day is it?”

  “It’s Tuesday, and we both have to go to work.”

  “Why don’t we pretend it’s Saturday?”

  “Because it’s Tuesday. Come on. I made you some French toast. And bacon.”

  I sniffed the air. Bacon was too tempting, and I pushed back the blanket.

  I shuffled out to the kitchen just as someone knocked on the door. I figured it must be Eileen, and she’d seen Jimmy’s car at the house. I unlocked the door and threw it open unceremoniously, ready to snarl at her. But it was a skinny young police officer standing there looking embarrassed.

  “Uh, is Jim here?” he asked nervously.

  I stood aside, and Jimmy stepped into view with a cup of coffee in his hand. “What is it, Leonard?”

  “Sorry to bother you, Jim, but we’ve had an incident, and I thought you’d want to check it out. I tried your phone, but. . .”

  “Sorry about that. I turned it off last night. Okay, give me a minute.” Not appearing the least bothered by being caught in my house with me in a bathrobe, he put down the coffee. “Aretha, get dressed so I can drop you at your office. Bring your French toast with you. I already let Nancy out.”

  I scurried to dress as quickly as I could, and I heard Jimmy talking in low tones to the officer at the door. I had on clean tan slacks and a long-sleeved blouse when I came back out. I’d run a comb through my hair, but that was the extent of my grooming. I grabbed the plate of French toast, gave Nancy a reassuring pat, and trotted after Jimmy.

  “What’s going on?” I asked when I got in the car.

  “Not sure yet.”

  I figured that was all the information I was going to get at this point. And my head was still throbbing too much to push the issue. As soon as I got out of the car at the office, Jimmy turned the car around and headed in the opposite direction.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lorenzo pounced on me the minute I walked in the door. “Here,” he said, handing me a note with a name and an address. “Write this one up today. Great human interest.”

  I looked at the name. “Joan Larkin. So what did she do?”

  “Won the lottery. Well, not the big prize. But she got fifty thousand dollars.”

  “And that’s news?”

  “The news is that her dog picked the numbers.” Lorenzo practically rubbed his hands together. “Go meet the dog. Get some photos of him at work, then really play it up.”

  “Actually, I have a headache this morning.”

  “You’ll feel a lot better after you talk to the dog. Get moving, Moon.”

  I sighed and shot Thelma a glance. She was watching from her desk, looking over her reading glasses. I gave her a feeble wave and headed out the door.

  Joan Larkin’s house was on a cross street before the Highway 79 overpass. I wouldn’t want to be the mailman in her neighborhood. The yards rose straight up from the sidewalk like miniature cliffs, retaining walls struggling to hold the dirt in place. The yards looked like a line of fat men, their bellies barely restrained by their pants. I climbed the steps to the top of the mini cliff at Joan’s house and followed the sidewalk to the porch. The house itself looked like something
from an animated Disney movie. The siding was yellow, the shutters green, and the porch posts a shade of orange this side of queasy. The color scheme did nothing for my headache.

  I looked to the side and saw her neighbor standing on his porch watching me. He was about forty with a ponytail and the kind of beard that looked like the stuffing from an old dog bed. The sounds of a game show blared from inside his house, and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t know the answers to the questions.

  Joan answered the door right away with a cheery hello that was almost singing. In her arms was the dog I was there to interview, a chihuahua with bared teeth who snarled and tried to lunge at me.

  “Now, Stewart,” she said, patting his head. “Be nice to the company.”

  But Stewart was having none of the niceties and the snarling alternated with ferocious barking. He snapped his jaws together every time he looked at me as though gauging how much meat he could get with one bite. It made me long for Puddin’.

  “Here, have a seat,” Joan said, gesturing to a chair that was as multicolored as the outside of the house. Stewart continued to menace me.

  I pulled my notebook out of my purse and flipped it open. “Is this the first time Stewart has picked winning numbers for you?” I asked.

  “Oh, no, he does it all the time. I’ve won smaller amounts several times. He just has a flair for it.”

  He looked like he had a flair for biting the heads off mice too.

  I wrote down the other times Mrs. Larkin had won various amounts of money on the lottery and got a basic history. She was widowed and Stewart was companionship for her since she lived alone. They liked to watch TV together, and her favorite show was America’s Got Talent. His was Dr. Phil.

  I told her I’d like to get a photo of Stewart in action, so she took me into her bedroom, which was basically a shrine to all things crocheted, and showed me the set-up. There were two small baskets of ping pong balls on the dresser, and she dumped one of them onto the crocheted spread, then dropped Stewart onto the bed. He went to work. He would grab a ball at random, shake it and growl, then drop it on the floor.

  I knelt near the bed and got my cell phone out of my purse. Stewart paused when he heard the click of the camera and looked over his shoulder. Then he went back to work. When I clicked the second picture he dropped the ball in his mouth, turned with flattened ears and threw himself at me like Wonder Woman on a Nazi. I swear to God that dog could fly. All I saw coming at me were bug eyes and teeth.