Free Mayhem Takes a Dare: The Second Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 2) by Jada Ryker

of grief, Mrs. Kenton eased her thin frame onto the couch next to Mrs. Craft. Her sadness was as much a part of her as her eye color or build, an acquired characteristic as unchangeable as a genetic physical trait.
    Althea smiled, her face settling into a gentle compassion. She knew Mrs. Kenton’s daughter had been brutally murdered twenty years ago. Mayla Kenton had been a carefree twenty-year-old college honor student, carelessly arrogant in her own awareness of her intelligence and beauty. With a glorious future ahead of her as a talented pianist, mortality had not been part of her sense of self.
    When a serial arsonist had burned Mrs. Kenton’s home as a part of his or her plan of doom, Mayla had died. The young woman had been asleep in her own room, too ill to accompany her parents on their vacation. The police’s theory was the arsonist had not known Mayla was in the house, since the previous fires had encompassed empty homes.
    When the fires stopped after Mayla’s death, the newspapers had speculated the arsonist had been overcome by a sense of guilt. Whether Mayla’s death was intentional or not, the outcome was the same. She was dead.
    Her voice unconsciously soft because of her thoughts, Althea remarked, “I see Starla Farrell has put your hair in curlers for you.”
    Mrs. Kenton’s thin, blue-veined hand tentatively touched the tightly wound curls. “Starla is a good girl. The center hired her after the unfortunate events at the nursing home several months ago.” She slanted uncertain, watery blue eyes in Althea’s direction. “She takes time out of her day every morning to put my hair in curlers. Then before dinner, she takes them out and carefully fluffs out my hair.”
    “Starla is an excellent employee who goes above and beyond the call of duty.”
    Mrs. Kenton nodded and continued, “I’ve told her she doesn’t have to do it every day, but the child insists. She says I must look my best for dinner. Otherwise, she claims, it’s a negative reflection on her as a personal care assistant.” Under the flowered housedress, the bony chest hitched. “My daughter Mayla used to babysit Starla when she was a little girl. I think that’s why Starla goes out of her way to be so sweet to me.”
    The front door of the assisted living center opened, and a small group of children and adults rushed inside.
    Clara’s round, wrinkled face lit up under her mass of short, suspiciously brown curls. “Ada and Judith! Come here, my dears! And you brought the girls!”
    The taller woman bent over to hug the old woman. “Mother, how are you?”
    Clara snorted. “My best friend, Arthur, is always with me!”
    The younger of the two little girls rushed forward. “Oh, Grandmother, who is Arthur? Do you have a boyfriend?”
    Moira laughed shortly. “Clara! Don’t tell me you’re using that old saw, Arthur Ritis?”
    Clara frowned, but before she could answer, the smaller woman threw her arms around Clara’s neck. “Mom! I missed you!”
    “Judith, my dear, look at you! Nothing but skin and bones! How much do you weigh?”
    Althea saw Judith wink at Ada. “One hundred and ten, Mom, and it’s a good weight for five feet, two inches!”
    “Humph,” grumped Clara. “You’re ninety pounds, soaking wet!”
    The older of the two girls slowly approached the woman in the chair. “Grandmother, can we get the card table and play some cards? How about poker?”
    Moira’s laughter trilled again. “Earlier today, Clara was playing cards with some of the others. I saw her quite blatantly cheating.” Twitching her red hair back in a way that made Althea want to rip the scarlet strands out of her head, Moira sauntered over to Clara. Before the older woman could react, Moira quickly slid her hand into Clara’s voluminous, polyester sleeve. She pulled out a playing card, and held it up triumphantly. “You see? Your grandmother is a cheat.”
    “My grandmother is not a cheat!” the older child punctuated her statement