Free Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 03 - Haunted by Jeanne Glidewell

reminded me tomorrow was Halloween. We didn’t know how many trick-or-treaters to expect, so I’d bought plenty of candy. With Wyatt around so much of the time, none of it would go to waste.
    I scoured the rest of the Rockdale Gazette, surprised to find nothing else on the matter. The paper never really amounted to much, but I was still amazed a town this size could support a daily newspaper at all. Apparently a lot of the citizens supported the paper with subscriptions and ad placements. The front page offered news, or what they could pass off as news, and the rest of the paper was filled with want ads and store ads, and a small section that told who had dinner with whom the previous day.
    The lack of progress on the case only served to make me more determined to find out whatever I could from the list of suspects I was compiling in my little notebook. I’d purchased the notebook when I traveled to New York the previous year. That notebook had come in handy on several occasions, and I was making use of it again now.
    As I read the paper, I absent-mindedly ate way too many miniature chocolate doughnuts. I had vowed to lose ten pounds over the winter, and they weren’t going to melt off me if I kept up this compulsive snacking. In my opinion, chocolate is one of the five basic food groups, but I still needed to limit myself to only one doughnut at any given time.
    Before putting the newspaper in the trash, I did a quick scan of the classified ads. Stone and I were looking for a used treadmill, even though we’d both owned treadmills in the past and knew we wouldn’t use this one any more than we’d used our previous ones. Like before, we’d use it a couple of times, dust it for two or three years, and then sell it for a few bucks at a garage sale. We were still trying to convince ourselves this time would be different and we’d wear the tread right off it in our attempts to get back into shape.
    With that thought in mind, I closed the doughnut bag, placing it way back in the rear of the snack cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind. Besides, it was time to get the show on the road. I had things to do and people to see.
    * * *
    The first thing I did was check the county phone book for a Roxie Kane. I found several Kanes listed, but no Roxie, Roxanne, or R. Kane. I started with the first one and dialed the number. No Roxie lived there I was told by the man who answered the phone. The second call netted better results. The woman told me her brother-in-law, who lived in Weston, had a daughter name Roxanne, and she was a student at our local college.
    Rockdale was a small town, very small to be a college town, but it drew students from a lot of communities in the surrounding area. The institution was a fully accredited two-year junior college, with surprisingly good athletic teams, and a small school band. It offered the prerequisite courses and a few specialized degrees such as nursing degrees. Many graduates went on to four-year universities, and some to work and train at nearby hospitals. Many eventually earned medical degrees.
    Roxie was working toward a career in medicine, and was already working as an EMT part-time, her aunt told me. After we conversed for a few minutes she gave me Roxie’s address and phone number in Weston. She still lived with her parents, the nice lady told me. I hung up and called the number I’d been given.
    “Hello.”
    “Is this Mrs. Kane?” I asked.
    “Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”
    “Actually, I’m calling to speak to Roxie. Is she home?”
    “No,” Mrs. Kane said. “This is her weekend to serve in the army reserves. It helps with her college expenses, you know. She reports to Fort Riley one weekend a month.”
    “Oh, of course. I knew that. I just didn’t realize this was her weekend to serve. Well, thank you, anyway. I’ll try her back in a few days,” I said.
    “Can I tell her who—”
    Click.
    “No, sorry. You can’t tell her who called for her,” I said to