Free A Lonely Way to Die: A Utah O'Brien Mystery Novel (Minnesota Mysteries Series Book 2) by Jonni Good

street.

 
     
    EIGHT
     
     
    Sonje’s car was the only one in the diner’s parking lot, but Angie had a few customers inside. Pete Hansen, Rita’s father, was sitting on his usual stool, close to the cash register. Oscar Krueger and his wife, Amy, were sitting in the booth closest to the front door. That was the booth where Oscar’s father, Conrad Krueger, was sitting the day before, when I first saw Sonje McCrae.
    Oscar looks like a young carbon copy of his father—square jaw, short-cropped hair the color of old straw, two-day old scruff on the cheeks, and blue eyes with laugh lines. His pregnant wife is pretty, with shoulder-length dark brown wavy hair. She worked as a waitress for Angie for several years after high school, and she was one of the best. Angie had to let her go when the recession hit.
    I like to think I had something to do with the couple getting married, because of the time they both spent in that same booth the year before. They used their computer skills to help me out of a jam when I was framed for murder.
    The diner still looked exactly the way it did when my mother bought the place, when I was still in diapers. It was built in the 1940s, and it still looks the same as it did all those years ago. The only modern-looking things in the building are the computerized cash register and the TV sitting on top of the soft-serve machine.
    I stopped to say hello to the kids, and to ask Amy how she was doing. Her baby bump was so big, I was surprised she could fit herself into the booth. She told me that she and Oscar’s mother were going to pick out colors for the baby’s room that afternoon.
    When the chit-chat was done, I asked Oscar if he still had his laptop.
    “Sure,” he said. “Why?”
    “I could use some help with some online research,” I said. “You and Amy are really good at that. If I can talk Angie into sharing her WiFi password with you, would you have time to look up a few things online?”
    He grinned. “I’d love to. Does it have something to do with the dead lady you found? Are you worried that reporters will find out you were trespassing on Susan Webb’s land?”
    Amy giggled at his little joke. I smiled, too, to be polite. “No, it’s not about me this time. I need to find out what the Internet has to say about that woman I found this morning. I’d like to know more about her husband, too.”
    Oscar was already scooting out of the booth. He leaned over and gave Amy a fast kiss, and then headed out to get his laptop. He didn’t have far to go—he and Amy were living with his parents, and their house was right behind the gas station, one block down on the other side of Main Street. Oscar’s father has owned the only station in town for as long as I can remember.
    Angie was standing behind the counter, reading an old People magazine. She looked up and brushed her shoulder-length blond hair out of her eyes when I moved over to the counter.
    “I got a call from that Sabina Greene, the reporter from Randall,” she said. “She wanted to know if I’d seen the dead lady’s kids. They’re saying on the news that the woman brought them to town with her. I guess the housekeeper blabbed. The sheriff told the reporters the kids are safe, but he won’t tell them where they are. It’s driving them nuts.”
    “Great. I’m surprised the reporters haven’t shown up here in helicopters or something.”
    “They’re in Randall, camped out in front of the sheriff’s office, hoping to get a look at Gavril Constantin. They’ll be mobbing this place when he gets here.”
    “What did you tell the reporter?”
    “Didn’t know a thing.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes innocently. Then she poured me a cup of coffee, black. She held up the pot, asking Pete if he wanted a refill. He did. She splashed coffee in his mug.
    He turned to me. “How are the kids? Rita called and said she checked them for frostbite.”
    “They’re fine. It was nice of her to come over. How’s your