Free All Natural Murder by Staci McLaughlin Page A

ever did.”
    Not exactly singing Bobby Joe’s accolades, was he?
    I rested my arms on the counter and leaned forward. “Were you having problems with him?”
    Donald cocked his head, making the dead squirrel slip down a notch. I kept my gaze fixed firmly on his face.
    “Say now, who are you again?”
    Oops, too direct. “Um, a friend of Bobby Joe. I’m trying to figure out what happened. Do you know of anyone who would want to kill him?”
    Donald pointed to my total on the register, and I scrambled to pull my wallet out of my purse.
    “Can’t think of anyone right off, but that doesn’t mean people weren’t gunning for him, especially considering the way he behaved here at work.”
    I handed over two fives. “What do you mean?”
    Donald held each bill up to the light. Guess his station got a lot of counterfeit five-dollar bills. “Look here, missy, I won’t speak ill of the dead. But I built this business on honesty and integrity, and I expect the same from my employees. Now here’s your change.” He shoved the ones and loose coins into my hand, squeezed out from behind the counter, and crossed to the back of the store, disappearing behind a swinging door marked E MPLOYEES O NLY .
    What exactly had Bobby Joe done to bring such wrath from Donald? And why hadn’t Donald fired him?
    I grabbed my plastic bag and left the store, listening to the tinkle of the bell as I went. Out front, a woman not much older than my twenty-eight years smoked a cigarette at the corner of the building, glancing at the door every few seconds. My car was still the only one in the lot, and the spaces in front of the gas pumps were empty, so unless she’d walked here from town, she must work here. Maybe she was Bobby Joe’s replacement.
    She watched me approach. She wore a too-tight, tiger-striped halter top that accentuated her ample chest and defined biceps. As I got closer, she tugged up the top at the corners.
    “You work here?” I asked.
    She held her cigarette down near her thigh and waved at me. “Get over here. Don’t let him see you.”
    I glanced to my left at the last pane of the storefront window, but I saw only myself in the reflection cast by the noonday sun. I shuffled forward another two feet until I reached the cement wall.
    “Donald will tan my hide if he catches me out here smoking again. Says it’s bad for business.”
    “Well, it is a gas station. All those flammable fumes and everything.”
    The woman scowled at me. “I haven’t blown anything up yet.”
    Let’s hope today wasn’t the day she broke her winning streak. “Are you Bobby Joe’s replacement?”
    The woman laughed and exhaled a stream of smoke. “Donald would never let me work. Says he’s the breadwinner, and no wife of his is gonna get her hands dirty with a job. I’m stuck in that house all day.” She jerked her cigarette toward the house behind the station.
    I almost dropped my bag when she said the word “wife,” considering she was young enough to be his daughter. How had Donald landed such a young hottie? I tightened my hold on the plastic bag, crushing a Funyun in the process. “You probably knew Bobby Joe, am I right?”
    The woman flicked at something on her fingernail. “Bobby Joe was a sweetie. I was real sorry to hear someone killed him.”
    “Me, too.” Especially since some people thought my sister did it. “How long did he work here?”
    “Lemme think.” She held her cigarette aloft and tapped her toe. “Seems like Donald hired him right before the Christmas season. We get a lot more business that time of year with people passing by on the highway, off to visit folks for the holidays.”
    She sounded momentarily wistful, her tone making me imagine a family gathered around a Christmas tree, drinking hot chocolate. I felt a tug at my own heart as I thought of last Christmas, the first year without my dad.
    “And did Donald like him?” I asked to drag myself from my memories.
    The woman didn’t seem at all