Free Confession Is Murder by Peg Cochran Page A

look legit-like.
    Her stomach was doing flip-flops, and she really wanted to turn around, go home, put on her fuzzy pink slippers, and spend the morning watching a couple of her favorite soaps. But if she didn’t do this they weren’t never going to find out who killed Joseph, and Tony Jr. would never get out of jail. Which meant Bernadette was going to give birth to a baby with no father. At that thought, Lucille stepped on the gas and the Olds surged forward. A woman walking a vicious-looking Doberman jumped back onto the safety of someone’s front lawn.
    Lucille hit the brake and pulled up in front of the house to the right of Angela—if you were standing inside her front entrance, at any rate. She got out of the car and closed the door. The lady with the dog passed by and gave her a dirty look. She must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, Lucille thought. She shrugged and went up the walk to the house.
    The woman who answered the door had brown buggy eyes and poofy bangs that made Lucille think of the small dog Angela once had—she thought it was called a Pomeranian or something funny like that. The woman had a dust rag and a can of polish in her hand.
    “Yes?”
    Lucille brandished her pad of paper. “I’m doing this here survey for JoFra Exterminating. On account of we want to know what people think of our services—”
    “It’s no good asking me.” The woman shook her head, and her bangs bobbed up and down. “We’ve never used—JoFra did you say it was?”
    Lucille nodded. Looks like Angela must have meant the neighbor on the other side, she thought.
    “We’ve never had any problems with bugs. Mother always said that if you keep the place clean you won’t have any unwelcome visitors, if you know what I mean.”
    “Looks like I got the wrong house, then.” Lucille started to turn to go back down the stairs.
    “I think you probably want the people down there, the Flanagans.” She leaned out the door and pointed. “The house with the aluminum awning over the front steps. I see the exterminating van out there all the time.”
    “Yeah, they got a contract.”
    The woman sniffed. “I don’t think Mr. Flanagan was very pleased, mind you. I heard him arguing with the man from the exterminating company. I was outside sweeping the front steps”—she leaned closer to Lucille, and Lucille could see the red veins crisscrossing the whites of her eyes—“when I heard him actually threaten the poor fellow.” She nodded, and her bangs bobbed vigorously.
    “Really?” Lucille could feel her heart beating all excited-like. It sounded as if this guy could be the one who really murdered Joseph—seeing as how she knew Tony Jr. hadn’t done it.
    Lucille thanked the woman and went back down the brick walkway to the sidewalk. She passed Angela’s house and counted two houses to the right. The other right, this time.
    Lucille rang the bell and cleared her throat. She had her pad and pen at the ready, held out in front of her like a shield.
    “Yeah?” The door was jerked open so hard it almost hit the wall.
    She’d had it all rehearsed, and now she’d gone and forgotten what she was supposed to say. Like some kind of stage fright or something.
    “Well?”
    “I just gotta ask you a couple of questions if that’s okay.” Lucille tried to peer around him. Maybe the missus was home, and she could talk to her instead?
    “What about?” He scratched his chest and then poked a finger into his ear and wiggled it around. He was wearing a thin, worn guinea T and had bristly bundles of gray hair coming out of his ears. Lucille stared at them, fascinated. It was a wonder he could even hear.
    “I’ve come about the exterminating company—JoFra. I’m doing this here survey”—she waved her yellow pad at him—“and I need to know what you think of the services.”
    He let out a roar that nearly knocked Lucille back down the steps.
    “You want to know what I think, huh? Well, come on in. I’ll be