Free Cold Moon Dead by J. M. Griffin Page A

took in my hair again.
    Self-conscious, I reached up to smooth the strays and watched this hunk smirk at my effort to tame my unyielding mess into a semblance of order. It was useless, so I let it spring back out of control.
    I glanced at the clock and stood up. Brown eyes regarded me with interest and something else, but I didn’t know what.
    “I have to get out of here. I’m not trying to get rid of you, but I promised Lanky Larry to finish a job for him today.”
    “Is he picking you up?”
    “No, the poor guy was diagnosed with the mumps yesterday. He called me last night to ask if I’d finish the job for him.”
    “That’s good of you. I have to go now, too. I’ll talk to you later today or tonight.” He smiled, gulped the rest of his coffee and left.
    When the outer door closed and Aaron’s truck started, I raced into the bedroom, grabbed some old clothes, and headed toward the bathroom. Within minutes I had tamed my hair, washed up, deodorized, and dressed. I laced up my paint-speckled sneakers and sped out the door.
    A State Police cruiser slid to a halt at the end of the driveway as I backed the MINI Cooper out of the garage. I watched Marcus swagger up the driveway as only a State Trooper can.
    “You in a hurry, ma’am?” He grinned and leaned toward my window as I slid it down.
    “Yeah, I’m headed to work. Why do you ask, Officer?” It must be my day for handsome law enforcement agents, I thought with an inward grin.
    “Just checking with you before I drive to Newport. There’s a training program today and I’m a presenter. I won’t be available by phone, so you’re on your own. Try not to get into trouble, okay?” Marcus tipped his hat toward me and turned to walk away.
    Why was it that the men in my life, including my father, thought I was in a jam every day of the week? I did manage to have some calm days when life didn’t go wrong. Today could be one of those days.
    “Uh, excuse me? I’m not always in trouble, you know,” I said in a hoity-toity manner. I smirked when he stopped short and turned back to me.
    “It’s a rare occasion when you aren’t in trouble. I must admit, though, that you do have some reasonably calm days. Just be careful today, please.”
    We both smiled. He drove away with a salute. I backed out of the driveway and headed toward Cranston’s high-end country homes.
    The ungainly house wasn’t one that could be missed. It sprawled at the end of the street with only one house across from it. The empty space adjacent to the two houses held a Land for Sale sign, smack in the middle of the lot.
    A furniture repair truck sat parked outside the other house with two sporty cars right behind it. I glanced at them as I turned into the other driveway and parked next to the side entrance of Larry’s project house.
    The curler queen hustled out the door with a lit cigarette dangling from her lips like an added appendage. Red lipstick adorned the wrinkled mouth and her hands fluttered like butterfly wings in the wind. I slid the window of Lola’s car down as ‘Queeny’ opened her mouth. The cigarette bobbed up and down as she spoke.
    “Could you park your little car in the street? I need to get the Mercedes out of the garage in a while. Today is my bridge day,” she said, her tone haughty, as though I were a servant.
    “Sure, no problem.” I tried to smile, but knew it failed in sincerity.
    When the car was parked and locked, and well out of the way, I hiked up the driveway and knocked on the door.
    This time heavy footsteps pounded on the wood flooring as someone neared the entry. The inside door stood open, and the storm door separated me from the owner. A man strode into view. I glanced up, the spit in my mouth dried like rain in the desert, while my breath stuck in my lungs.
    The man who stood before me was none other than Tony Jabroni’s doctor, Louie-the-Lug. He stared at me. I stared back through the glass. Another man approached the door as I worked hard to