Free Cold Moon Dead by J. M. Griffin

headed inside. The message light on the phone blinked. I put the food on the counter and hit the button to listen.
    “Vin, I have bad news,” the voice croaked. I leaned closer to the machine. It sounded like Lanky Larry.
    “The doc says I have the mumps. Geez, imagine a guy my age with the mumps? I feel like crap. Can you finish the job for me tomorrow? All that needs doing is the foliage design you started today.” Larry mumbled some more. I couldn’t catch what else he said before the call ended.
    The phone rang a few times after I dialed his number. A voice, thick with pain answered.
    “Hello?” he croaked.
    “Larry, it’s me . . . Vin,” I said. “I’m sorry you’re so sick. I’ll be glad to finish the job for you. Does the lady of the manor know?”
    “Yeah, she’s gonna be there to let you in tomorrow.”
    “Okay, I’ll go first thing and get that done for you. Get well, okay? Do you need some soup or something?”
    Larry’s voice took on a whine. “No, I can’t eat. I look like a damn bullfrog with this throat. It’s huge.”
    I wondered for a second if I’d had the mumps as a child. I’d call my mother.
    With another get well wish, I disconnected and called my mother to ask about the mumps. She said that Gio and I had developed them at the same time when we were kids so not to worry. I smiled with relief and hung up.
    It was late, and I was beat. The coffee pot was set for morning, so I tossed my jacket aside, put the food in the fridge, and headed to bed. It took some time before my thoughts settled down. After several deep breaths, my body started to relax and I must have drifted off.
     
    *     *     *
     
    The next thing I knew, sunshine blazed through the window into my face. I turned over, slapped a feather pillow over my head and contemplated the day. As I peeked out from under the pillow, my gaze rested on the alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed. Eight o’clock. Gosh, I needed to get up.
    Lanky Larry’s mumps came to mind. I felt my neck and then snorted at my silliness. My mother had said I wouldn’t get them. I knew she was right. Besides, there had to be an incubation period, right? I wouldn’t get them within a day.
    Silently chastising myself, I got out of bed and straggled into the kitchen for a cup of hot coffee. I downed the first cup, poured a second one after I had brushed my teeth and washed my face. The vision in the bathroom mirror made me realize it would take a lot to put my hair in order. The wild-man-of-Borneo look had nothing on this mass of snarled curls. I pulled it back from my face, added a hair scrunchy and left the room. Wisps still strayed away like antennae.
    Footsteps on the stairs warned of company. When the knock sounded, I swung the door open to find Aaron, looking very GQ while I looked like a car wreck on Route 95. Did this man ever have a hair out of place?
    His eyes roamed my face, stopped at my hair, and then continued over the rest of me. A grin spread across his face.
    He laughed. “Tough night?”
    “I guess. I can’t remember.” I yawned, ushered him inside from the cold hallway, and poured him a mug of coffee that slopped over the counter for no reason whatsoever. It was about to be another interesting day. I could tell.
    “Mmm, good coffee. Got anything to go with it?” He stared suggestively at me for a moment, a twinkle in his eyes.
    “Not a thing,” I said and turned toward my own cup. Geez, I was a wreck. If I’d read him right, he’d just asked for more than a slice of toast.
    “Hmm, okay.” He glanced at the phone and then at me.
    “Any interesting calls yet today?” Aaron asked.
    “No. Should there be? Would you have some news that I should know?” I wondered what, if anything, he had found out last night. Was this simply a fishing expedition for information?
    “No, I was just curious,” Aaron remarked. “Your life is an ongoing mystery, so I thought maybe you’d had another upset.” His glance