Free The Busy Woman's Guide to Murder by Mary Jane Maffini

interested in watching WINY and ruining the rest of this day.”
    Jack’s Y chromosome kicked in and he pressed the remote. Todd Tyrell, who seems to be permanently on the television screen, beamed out, his teeth gleaming like the sun on the fresh snow outside.
    In a second shocking incident in less than two days, another Woodbridge woman has been killed by a hit-and-run driver. Police have yet to reveal the name of the thirty-two-year-old woman who was struck while crossing the street to her vehicle in Ambleside Acres, a quiet neighborhood in the north end of Woodbridge. There were no witnesses to the crime, which police believe occurred sometime after two and before six this morning. The woman’s body was discovered by a man walking his dog this morning. For more breaking news, stay tuned to WINY, your window on Woodbridge.
    Sometime after two and before six? Who would be out at that time? Woodbridge’s few clubs are in the uptown and downtown areas, not in the suburbs. A horrible thought occurred to me. What about Haley? She was connected to this whole business. She’d said she worked nights in her husband’s cleaning business. What was his name? Oh, right, Randy. There were a lot of small businesses bordering the Ambleside Acres area, restaurants and offices mainly. Could she have been going from one cleaning job to another, not worrying about speeding vehicles in the middle of the night?
    “Jack, what if it’s Haley?”
    “Haley who?”
    “What do you mean, ‘Haley who’? Haley McKee, now Brennan. What is wrong with you? Remember we were talking about Serena and her evil cabal? Haley was the one who asked me for forgiveness. We just had this talk at Sally’s last night, Jack. Weren’t you paying attention?”
    He shrugged. “Don’t take it personally, Charlotte. Sometimes I tune out when you girls get into certain topics.”
    “Anyway, Mona was talking about wanting to kill Serena Redding. Everyone thinks that Haley did a lot of Serena’s dirty work. Mona hates her too. It would make sense in a demented way. Don’t look at me like that.”
    “I’m not looking at you like anything.”
    “Are.”
    “Not anymore, I’m not.”
    “Fine. I have to get dressed and go see for myself.”
    “But they won’t let you see the body.”
    “Of course I am not going to try to see the body. I meant go see if Haley’s all right.”
    “Do you even know how to find her?”
    “Luckily, I do. I have her address in my attendee file, for the follow-up questionnaire. And I have a perfectly good GPS system. Take that, buddy.”
    “Huh.”
    Call me crazy, but I thought it was the only thing to do. I just had to know. I put down my wonderful mug of coffee and headed to my room to get ready. I changed again and put on wool pants this time and a bulky charcoal sweater under my down vest. I had to find a dry hat and scarf. My sturdy and practical boots were still fine. Especially as I was wearing the socks that were good to minus thirty degrees.
    As I emerged ready to go, Jack said, “Want me to come with you?”
    I did want that. “Thanks. You might want to put a jacket on over that Hawaiian shirt. Just this once.” I smiled, but it didn’t stay on my face long. “Did you just mutter ‘bossy’? Did you?”

    Haley’s address was in a rural area, outside Woodbridge proper, accessible through a network of back roads. A half hour after we set out, we were bouncing down a rough country road about an inch wider than my Miata, passing snow-covered fields, old farmhouses, the occasional new country home, and even a quick glimpse of one lonely junkyard filled with mountains of old cars. Even with the acres of sparkling snow, the naked trees seemed barren and lonely. I figured the drive would be prettier in the summer when the trees were leafed out and the farmer’s fields filled up.
    The road had recently been plowed or we wouldn’t have had a chance in my low-slung car. We hurtled over one last hill and spotted the