Free Saturday Night Cleaver (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #4) by Karen Cantwell Page B

searching up and down the road and side streets were wasted. The car was gone.
    The fact that we’d seen the same make and color of Mercedes as the one in Colt’s pictures indicated to Howard that Colt might have continued his investigative work and parked far enough away from his blond, sweatpants-wearing target so as not to be detected. Of course, this was still just a theory on the table. We had no hard evidence to go on.
    Howard dialed Officer Lamon to see if he’d run the first license plate belonging to the crazy Asian lady, and to see if he could add another to his list of favors. This time he was able to get Erik on the phone and the news was good. He had a name and address for Crazy Asian Lady: Shin Lee at 233 Dusty Pines Place, Rustic Woods.
    I recognized the address right away, and so did Howard. It was written on the back of the Saturday Night Fever business card. So Colt was supposed to meet her at 9:30 tonight, possibly, at her home? Certainly made sense. Had she stopped by earlier in the day to cancel or change their appointment? Who knew, but at least we were beginning to connect some dots on our hunt for Colt.
    Erik told Howard he would run the FEEVRR plate and file a missing persons report on Colt. He would also gladly assist us personally when his shift ended at ten. When Howard got off the phone with Erik, he tried Colt’s cell again just in case. Unfortunately, the result was no different.
    The clock on my dashboard read four-thirty in the afternoon, but it felt much later, probably because it was already starting to get dark and because we’d been running around all day like those proverbial un-dead chickens. It was time for rest, a good meal and some time with the kids.
    My phone rang as I motored toward home. Howard checked the display. “It’s Peggy, should I answer?”
    “No. Hit ignore.”
    “You’re still mad at her?”
    “I’m a woman. Holding a silent grudge is not only what I do best, it’s my right and my responsibility.”
    “Do you even know why you’re holding a grudge?”
    “For standing me up.”
    “Maybe there’s a good reason. Did you ask her?”
    “I told you, I know what happened. She stood me up for Dandi Booker. I just need time to cool off, that’s all. Once that happens, I’ll talk to her and only punish her by making snide jibes disguised as jokes and veiled snarky comments on her Facebook posts. See, you think I’m not aware that my dark side lives, but I’m very aware, Master Yoda, very aware.”
    “You’re lucky you have any friends at all,” he muttered under his breath.
    Truth be told, although I joked about my ‘dark side’, I was quickly realizing that it was probably not a matter for joking and that Howard was righter than wronger about me living up to my word on valuing friendships.
    A minute later my phone chirped, indicating a new voicemail.
    “She left a message,” he said.
    I pulled into our driveway. “I’ll listen to it later. I’m tired and hungry right now.”
    Howard limped slowly to the house, leaning heavily on his cane again. I was mad at myself for not insisting he let me do more of the work. He shouldn’t have been doing all of that walking and certainly no running. When I tried to help him, he brushed me off.
    “I’m fine,” he grumbled.
    But I could tell he was in pain.
    Remembering that my purse was still in the van, I turned to retrieve it. From the corner of my eye, I saw Melody Penobscott tip-toeing through the leaf-covered grass between her house and mine. She waved and called out. “Yoo hoo! Barb! Yoo hoo!”
    I sucked back an annoyed sigh. Despite my affinity for the way she pronounced her vowels, the thought of talking to anyone at that moment was less than appealing. I smiled anyway, because that’s what nice neighbors do.
    “Hi Melody. What’s up?”
    Her pony tail swished like a windshield wiper. “You look tired. Are you tired?”
    “Yeah. Yeah I am.”
    “Well, I hope you don’t mind me catchin’