Free 11 Hanging by a Hair by Nancy J. Cohen

power or old people who can’t tolerate the heat without air conditioning, but the man seemed fairly healthy.”
    “Alan was more concerned with his computers than his a/c. On bulk trash day, he’d throw out lots of boxes from electronics purchases.”
    “I gather he was retired. Maybe that was his hobby.”
    “Computers? It’s possible. He didn’t strike me as the gamer type, though. He could have been active on the social nets.” Susan gave a wicked grin. “Or maybe he played online poker.”
    “Now, that’s a thought. One of my elderly customers loves to play online sweeps. She’s actually won some prizes, too.” Marla finished applying the solution. Her job done, she put down her brush and set the woman’s timer.
    Susan twirled in the chair to face Marla. “I heard about your debacle with the fence. It didn’t surprise me. Alan was strict to enforce the rules for others but not for himself.”
    Marla stacked the remaining foils in a roundabout drawer. “Can you think of anyone who might have had a grudge against him?”
    “Besides you and me, you mean?” Susan chortled, but then her expression turned serious. “Are you suggesting it wasn’t suicide?”
    “Not at all, but you never know. He didn’t seem despondent to me. Who’s his next of kin?” Marla asked as though she didn’t possess that knowledge.
    “His nephew inherits the estate, I imagine. Alan didn’t have anybody else. I felt sorry for him, until I came home from grocery shopping one day and found all our patio furniture in the pool. He’d complained about our kids screaming outside his window the day before, so I’m sure it must have been him. He didn’t like children or pets.”
    Marla wouldn’t put it past Krabber, not if he was the one who’d left the bag of dog poop on their driveway. He had a mean streak that he’d kept hidden. How many other people had he offended?
    “Did you confront him about it?” She glanced at her watch. Her next appointment should be arriving any minute. Familiar sounds reached her ears: water splashing, blow dryers whirring, people chatting. Every now and then, she’d hear the cash register drawer open and close.
    Susan’s eyebrows rose. “Heck, no. The man would only give me his self-righteous crap.”
    “Tell me about it.” Marla tapped the timer. “You have forty minutes. Can I get you a cup of coffee? There’s Danish out front, too, if you’re hungry.”
    “No thanks, I’m good.” Susan’s brows drew together. “Is it true your husband is a police detective?”
    “That’s right.”
    “I thought I saw somebody in Alan’s backyard yesterday. A dog started barking around that time. Then I saw a rescue truck by the house. Do you know what happened?”
    Marla winced at the memory. “My poodle got loose and ran into Alan’s yard. I found Spooks lying in that dreadful pit and called 9-1-1. That hole is a hazard.”
    “Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I’d heard pounding noises from back there before the dog barked. Soon after, a shadow passed our bathroom window on that side. I couldn’t see much, but it looked like a figure darting by.”
    “This could be important. I’ll tell Dalton.”
    “Is he investigating? I mean, the cops aren’t just writing off Alan’s death, are they?”
    “Of course not. It’s routine to investigate in cases like this,” she said in a noncommittal tone. “Can you think of anything else that might be useful?”
    “I don’t think so.” A pause. “I’m still creeped out about Alan dying next door. I mean, I know it’s a terrible thing and all. But Marla, considering the circumstances, maybe we should watch each other’s backs until we learn more.”

C HAPTER F IVE
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    Marla told Dalton what their neighbor had related Tuesday evening at dinner. “Someone might have thrown Spooks in that pit to shut him up,” she concluded, cutting a slice of leftover brisket and forking it into her mouth. “He didn’t just fall into the hole