Free Thirty-Six and a Half Motives: Rose Gardner Mystery #9 (Rose Gardner Mystery Series) by Denise Grover Swank Page A

why the Henryetta police would need to use sirens when their headquarters was on the other side of the square—although, common sense had never ranked high on their list of new-hire qualifications.
    Someone pounded on my back door, and I ran back to open it. “Who’s there?”
    “Merv. Let me in.”
    I unlatched the deadbolt, and Merv stumbled in when I opened the door. The first clue something was wrong was the fact he wasn’t standing upright.
    “What happened?” I reached out to help him, but he flung his hand out to hold me off, his gun still in his grip. I backed away from it.
    “The bastard shot me, that’s what.”
    “Oh, mercy. Where?”
    “In my damn leg. I need to call Skeeter.”
    My heart was in my throat as I shut and locked the door behind him. “I take it you want to hide from the police, but the only places to hide in here are the bathroom and the small storeroom.”
    “Bathroom.”
    I opened the bathroom door and turned on the light.
    “Turn that off,” he barked. “The damn police will come knockin’, wantin’ to question you.”
    I flipped the switch and closed the bathroom door, then used the flashlight on my phone to illuminate the small space. Merv hobbled to the toilet and sat on the lid, and as soon as he was situated, I shined the light on the hand that was pressed to his thigh. He lifted it to reveal a quickly spreading dark stain on his jeans.
    “Ya got a towel?”
    “Yeah.” I told myself to calm down as I opened the cabinet under the sink and handed him two clean hand towels. “Do you want me to call Skeeter?”
    “No. I’ll do it.” He pressed one of the towels to his leg as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed the call. “Skeeter. There’s been trouble.”
    He flicked an expressionless gaze up to me and then looked back down at his leg. “No. She’s fine. We’re in the bathroom of her shop. Some guy was lurking out front. I chased him toward the alley, but he shot me in the leg, and now the police are swarming all over the square.”
    “It was Sam Teagen,” I said.
    His gaze lifted again. “What?”
    “The man outside the shop—he was Sam Teagen.”
    “Who the hell’s Sam Teagen?”
    I snatched the phone and pressed the speaker button. “Skeeter, listen to me. It was the guy who posted my bail.”
    “You’re certain?” he asked.
    “I’ve seen two photos of him, and it’s him. I’m sure of it.”
    “This ties Simmons to your kidnapping after all.” Skeeter sounded pained to admit it.
    “And there’s something else,” I added.
    “What?”
    “He had scratch marks on his cheek. I think he was also one of the men who kidnapped me.”
    “ What? Did Merv get him?”
    “He got away,” Merv grumbled.
    Skeeter cursed a blue streak, and I was shocked to see Merv cringe.
    “Skeeter,” I said, getting pissed. “Merv got shot in the leg. We need to address that right now—not the fact that Sam Teagen got away.”
    “Merv,” Skeeter said, “did you leave a blood trail?”
    “No,” Merv answered. “I was careful.”
    I couldn’t believe my ears. “Your employee was shot, and all you want to know is if he left a blood trail ?”
    “Yes,” Skeeter said, sounding like he’d pinched off the word. “Because if they tie him to a shooting, he’s probably goin’ to jail, Lady!”
    He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, he sounded calmer. “Merv, how bad is it?”
    “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.” He shot me an angry glare. “It’s nicked is all.”
    “So the place is already teeming with cops?” Skeeter asked.
    “Yeah,” Merv said.
    “Then we can’t get you out yet. Rose?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I need you to stay with him. There’s a murderer on the loose, and I don’t want you going home on your own. Besides, we can’t let the cops know you’re there.”
    “Why?”
    “They’ll want to question you, which means they’ll probably want to come inside. It goes without saying that we don’t want them