Free Deadly Neighbors by Cynthia Hickey

emotionally attached to Duane Steele. Not again. Only fools go back to the origin of pain. But he sure did smell nice. A musky, woodsy cologne. I took a deep breath.
    Cars honked as they whizzed past us. A couple of local yocals hooted out the window. Mom’s Cadillac cruised alongside us. Mom waved and pointed. I waved back, my face hurting from the stretch of my grin.
    “Your dress is flapping behind you!” She pointed again. “You’re wearing purple panties!”
    Oh! My face burned like acid lay across my skin. Duane’s back vibrated with his laugh. Struggling to hold on with one hand, I fought to stuff my dress back under me.
    Not soon enough, we pulled beside the giant cow advertising the diner and Duane put the kickstand down. I removed the helmet, thankful I’d braided my hair before taking care of the children. At least I wouldn’t look like a cave woman. I glanced at my skirt. Gracious! The stupid dress had escaped again and slid to an entirely inappropriate length up my legs. How many town residents had I flashed? My mother’s warning of always wearing clean underwear rose to mind. For such a time as this, she would say. I smoothed the fabric before Duane could see and say something embarrassing.
    His mouth twitched when he offered his arm, making me suspect the man was up to no good. Before I could ask what he smirked about, he ushered me inside the diner to a corner booth. Too cozy for me, but I pacified myself with the fact that Kyle Anderson and Melvin Brown occupied the booth next to us. I slid into the seat backing theirs so I could snoop undetected.
    A bouncy teenage girl handed us our menus. I lifted mine to cover my face and slouched in my seat.
    Duane reached across the table and pulled down my shield. “What are you doing? Embarrassed about the exhibition show you gave? My side mirrors reflected a lot, you know. I almost wrecked us a couple of times.” He winked.
    “Shhh.” My face burned. Good grief. Did the man ever quit? “You should have told me, not taken advantage of the situation. Now, hush.”
    “Are you s pying?” He whispered. “Or hiding from me?”
    “Yes to both. Now be quiet .” I hid again behind the laminated list of food items.
    “The contractors are really breathing down my neck. Karen did a real number on me by cleaning out my checking account.” Anderson’s voice lowered. I suspected so he wouldn’t be heard by the other patrons, but his words reached my ears easily enough.
    “And I’ve almost got enough for that high-fangled lawnmower,” Melvin answered. “If I could get a few more accounts, I’d have enough. I’ve got a plan, though.”
    “To come up with more money?”
    “Yep. Sure thing. Easy. All I gotta do is—“
    The waitress skipped back to the table to take mine and Duane’s order . Her hyper, cheery voice drowned out the words from the other table. I scowled. “I’ll have a cheese burger, fries, and a cherry diet coke.”
    Duane ordered the same then leaned back in the booth. “I might as well have come to lunch by myself.”
    “Sorry.” I folded my arms on the table and tried to keep one ear tuned to the men behind me. “But an awful lot of people seem to be searching for money around here. Now Sharon’s dead. I think they’re related. Somebody wants money bad enough to kill for it.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure my soft words weren’t overheard.
    “You have quite an imagination, Mars Bar. She fell and hit her head. No sign of foul play.”
    I cringed. “I’m right about this. You’ll see, and stop calling me that.”
    “Marsha!” Stephanie stopped at our table with a stack of fluorescent pink papers clutched in one fist. “Here’s another flier about my yard sale. Don’t want you to forget. It would be great if you could donate something.”
    “I live with my mother. I don’t have, or need, a lot.” I set the paper on the table. We definitely wouldn’t be contributing anything from the store.
    “You must have