Free An Uplifting Murder by Elaine Viets

misinformation, the first girl to try everything from alcohol to junior-hooker outfits.
     
    “You know what you call a girl who believes in the free pass?” Josie asked.
     
    “A slut?” Amelia asked in a small voice.
     
    “Pregnant,” Josie said.
     
    Chapter 9
     
    The phone was ringing.
     
    The shrill sound destroyed Josie’s deep sleep. She crawled into consciousness like a drowning woman dragging herself onto shore. Josie reached for her bedside phone, found the receiver, and croaked, “Hello.”
     
    “Josie? Josie Marcus?” The voice was a woman’s, frantic and frightened. “It’s Laura.”
     
    “Laura who?” the befuddled Josie asked.
     
    “Laura Ferguson. Mrs. Hayes. Your old gym teacher.”
     
    “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
     
    “Did I wake you up?” Laura asked.
     
    “No, I shouldn’t have been asleep.” Josie sat up in bed and checked the clock: eleven a.m. She’d lost the entire morning.
     
    Last night had been difficult. She’d made hot chocolate and talked with Amelia about pregnancy and sexual myths, stepping around the subjects as carefully as if she’d landed in a nest of alligators. Josie thought she’d navigated the treacherous sex swamp fairly well. A chastened Amelia now knew there was no “free pass” and that Zoe’s information was dangerously inaccurate.
     
    After the talk, Josie had fixed her daughter her favorite meal of burgers with no pickles. Then they’d finished the last of the marble cake, while Josie added generous helpings of praise for Amelia’s cooking abilities. Hamburgers and cake weren’t the most nutritious meal, but Josie thought Amelia needed comfort food on a cold night. So had she, for that matter.
     
    Amelia had helped clear the table without complaint, a good gauge of her mood. Then they played with Harry, dragging a catnip toy around the kitchen while the cat pounced and rolled on it.
     
    About eight that night, Amelia had retired to her room to IM her friend Emma. Harry followed like a puppy and curled next to her by the computer. Josie filled out her report on Desiree Lingerie and faxed it to Suttin Services.
     
    Josie had made sure Amelia was tucked into bed, then spent a nearly sleepless night, tormented by maternal fears and flashbacks of the murdered woman’s face. Frankie’s silent scream echoed in Josie’s mind, a plea for help that would never come.
     
    She had fallen asleep as a drab dawn rudely poked through the window. Josie slept through the alarm, then awoke at 7:12. She’d hustled Amelia into her clothes, fed her child and her cat, and hurried to the car. There hadn’t been time for coffee.
     
    Josie had delivered Amelia to the Barrington School with two minutes to spare, then carefully made her way home on the slippery streets. Once inside, Josie thought she’d lie down for a minute. She’d been asleep until Laura Ferguson called.
     
    “Josie, you have to help me.” Laura’s voice was hoarse with desperation. “I think the police are going to arrest me.”
     
    “You? Why?”
     
    “I’m the most likely suspect for Frankie’s murder. They have a video.”
     
    “They caught you killing Frankie on camera?” Josie voice rose to a shriek. Harry peeked in the bedroom door, ears up and alert.
     
    “Not quite, but it looks bad. I didn’t do it, Josie. I wished her dead a thousand times, but I would never kill her. I’m over that now.”
     
    “Tell me what happened,” Josie said. Harry, satisfied there was no crisis, settled next to Josie on the bed for an ear scratch.
     
    “I can’t go into it on the phone. I’m at the shop. I need a big favor. Can you meet me at Plaza Venetia to talk?”
     
    “Sure,” Josie said. “I wanted to bring Amelia in for a fitting this afternoon. It’s time for her first bra.”
     
    There was a long hesitation. “Bring her in, of course. I’ll be happy to help. If I’m still here. But I need to talk to you privately. This topic isn’t fit for a young woman’s