Free Murder Bone by Bone by Lora Roberts Page B

Claudia waved one massive arm with half-eaten bagel attached. I ducked. “But she was there, you know, for a couple of years. She lived in that house. That’s where I first met her. In fact, she baby-sat for Carlie and Jack a couple of times, after our first sitter proved so unreliable. I knew her folks, of course, or I would never have trusted another hippie.”
    “Melanie was a hippie!” It seemed so unlikely that perfect Melanie could ever have worn torn jeans and love beads.
    “Oh, maybe she was more of a wanna-be, but she was there.” Claudia considered for a minute, munching. “Actually, she’s had trouble with drugs. Didn’t you know?”
    I shook my head. Gossiping makes me uncomfortable. It seems so unfair, somehow. Claudia loves to gossip, excusing it on the grounds that it’s not gossip unless you’re judgmental; otherwise it’s just research into the vagaries of human behavior.
    And I did have a rank little need to hear anything shady about Melanie, who wanted everyone to do good the way she thought was best. Every time I refused to volunteer in one of those society-type charities that target the homeless population, she let me feel her disapproval. I do what I can on a one-to-one basis with characters like Old Mackie, who often drops by for a meal and was just then the proud possessor of my favorite pair of thick wool socks. But I don’t want to stand there and flaunt my good luck in having a house over people who used to be my neighbors on the street.*
     
    *Murder in a Nice Neighborhood
     
    So I didn’t stop Claudia from telling me about Melanie’s checkered past.
    “Yes, awhile ago—it would be about the time Biddy got pregnant with Moira—Melanie was mixed up in a murder case. She ended up in Betty Ford kicking a nasty cocaine habit, and since then she’s been so holier-than-thou. Wants to pretend she was never a hell-raiser, never used an illegal substance.” Claudia made a noise between a sniff and a snort. “I wasn’t taking any of that, you can believe. Asked her who she bought her drugs from back in the old days.”
    I checked the rearview mirror again. Mick had joined Moira in bye-bye land. Sam and Corky were having a delightful time with Ray Stevens. Already, after little more than twenty-four hours in their company, I knew they would move on to Weird Al Yankovic soon.
    “What did she say?”
    Claudia laughed. “You mean after she denied using drugs? That was funny. I had to remind her that I had been in that house in the seventies, I knew what all those kids were doing. That Richard Grolen, for instance. Soon as I laid eyes on him, I remembered him. He was older than the rest of them, but no better. Alfred and I came home once and found Melanie entertaining him in the living room.”
    “You mean—”
    “Necking.” She said the word with zest. “In fact, petting. Yes! Heavy petting. Of course, the kids were asleep, and no harm done. But when I reminded Melanie of that, she stopped weaseling. She said she didn’t remember the real name of that fellow who was the dealer. They called him Nado, because he came from Kansas and he kept talking about tornadoes all the time. He just vanished the year she graduated. Nobody really paid much attention, but she remembers because she wanted some dope or something for a party and couldn’t find this guy anywhere, and that’s when people started wondering what happened to him. They figured he was in jail somewhere.”
    “Maybe he was.”
    “He was never seen again.” Claudia’s voice was low and portentous. “Now, considering that most of those people have turned up, off and on, over the years, don’t you think that’s suspicious? I mean, take Richard Grolen. He’s been gone for a while, but here he is, back again. Melanie, some of the others—they’re still around town. I see them every now and again. Saw that ex-baby-sitter of mine at a Red Ribbon Week rally, urging her kids to say no to drugs.” Claudia laughed again.