Illegally Blonde

by anna snow

  "She could stay at Viola's, don't you think?" Gabe offered as he looked at the sheriff rather than me.

  Why was the police guy still looking at me like I was guilty as hell? And why couldn't this whole thing be a nightmare?

  "Viola's rooming house is a block over."

  "Sort of like a bed and breakfast?" A bed and breakfast brought back wonderful memories of trips to Vermont with Joseph. Rooming houses were seedy, scary places in New York. Besides, the proximity seemed too close for comfort. I could still feel the cold clammy skin of the dead person against my fingertips. I wondered if either of them had some hand sanitizer until I could get those Brillo pads.

  "Great idea, Gabe. I'll give her a call." Without waiting for me to respond, the sheriff opened his cell and began to talk.

  I felt a little like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. I'd been catapulted into a world where there were rooming houses, cold, clammy dead bodies, and a missing father—well, more missing than he'd been for the first thirty years of my life. And all without my magic ruby slippers.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  NEARLY DEAD IN IOWA

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