Free Mom Zone Mysteries 02 Staying Home Is a Killer by Sara Rosett Page A

bubble wrap. At the same moment I spoke, I felt a sick sensation sweep over me as I had so many times in the last few days when I realized Penny was dead. Stacks of baby toys crowded the rest of the closet. Bright boxes reached up to almost touch a row of baby clothes on miniature hangers. Clothes in pastel pink, blue, yellow, and green hung down from the rod. I touched the toe of a small, footed sleeper. I’d been shopping with Penny when she found the sleeper on sale. She bought it, saying, “I’ll save it. I know we’ll have a baby someday.”
    I jerked the box out of the closet and closed the door quickly to shelter Penny’s dreams from Hetty’s gaze.

Chapter Nine
    L ivvy angled her body sideways, stretching to the right as she tried to grab a pack of gum. “No,” I said firmly and pulled her back upright. “No reaching.” I checked the shopping cart’s seat belt to make sure it was still fastened and looked around for something to distract Livvy while the woman in front of me tried a different credit card. Livvy was bored with the strap of my Kate Spade satchel. Pink Girl, Livvy’s toy that I could maneuver into amazing jumps, rolls, and leaps, was waiting in the Cherokee. The plastic bins in the cart were too big for Livvy to hold, so I settled for tapping the shopping cart handle with my fingers and letting her chase them back and forth.
    “Excuse me.” A man in a green flight suit squeezed past me. I glanced up at the sign over the cash register. MILITARY PERSONNEL HAVE PRIORITY 11:30 TO 13:30. Great. I’d managed to pick the slowest line and the one where people could legally cut in front of me. I checked my watch as my fingers danced and Livvy giggled. Eleven-thirty. I still had fifteen minutes to make it to Clarissa’s house.
    Apparently my run-in with the police hadn’t put her off. She’d called me and said, “Pick up whatever you think will work for storage containers and add it to my bill. I really don’t care what you use. How about Monday afternoon? Around twelve.”
    I’d replied I’d need a partial payment and could be there three hours on Monday and finish up Wednesday.
    “Fine. I just want to get it done.”
    The man in front of me leaned on the checkout counter. “Can’t you ring this up for me?” He dropped a can of shaving cream, razors, and a package of gum on the counter. Then he pulled a ten from a thick folded stack held together with a monogrammed money clip. He held out the money.
    “No, sir. I’m sorry. I have to finish this first,” the checker said as the woman in front of her pulled another sliver of plastic out of her wallet.
    The man slapped the ten against the counter, checked the time on the diamond-studded face of his Rolex, and turned to survey the other checkout lines.
    “Rory,” I said. “I didn’t realize that was you.”
    He turned to me, eyes behind his round glasses puzzled as he tried to place me. I stuck out my hand. “I’m Ellie Avery, Mitch’s wife.”
    He nodded and gave my hand a quick clasp as he mentally measured the other lines. They were more backed-up than ours. I’d never spoken more than a few words to Rory, mostly “Hi” and “Bye” if I walked past him in the squad or saw him during a squadron function, but here he was captive and right in front of me. I had to ask about Penny and her reaction when she saw the crew on Monday. Livvy pounced on my fingers and giggled. Rory threw another angry glance at the cashier and then leaned his broad shoulders again the partial wall separating the checkouts. He looked a little mismatched with his barrel chest and his owlish glasses, like he was part bodybuilder and part scholar. He crossed his arms. “You’d think they could call a few more people to the front.”
    Yeah, and you’d think you could wait your turn . I wondered what his hurry was. Mitch said the Safety Office where Rory worked played more solitaire than the rest of the squadron combined.
    I murmured a noncommittal sound.