Cold Moon Dead by J. M. Griffin Page A

me because I was robbed. Finally, Aaron came downstairs last night and yelled at me as well. I was on overload by then – I can tell you that.”
    I smirked as the scenes ran through my head like an old newsreel. They hadn’t been funny at the time, but in retrospect, I could understand why everyone was up in arms. It’s not healthy to mess with someone who’s been shot, shot at, or is connected.
    The police radio went berserk and Freedom rose from the table. She said she’d catch me later and left in a whirlwind of lights and sirens. I leaned back in the chair and sipped the remainder of my coffee.
    The rest of the day lay wide open. I was so close to the Providence Place Mall, which sits near city hall in the middle of Metro Providence, that it seemed prudent to take advantage of that. I left the restaurant and drove to the mall’s parking garage where I left Lola’s car secured and alarmed.
     

Chapter 6
    Shop windows boasted sales of up to fifty percent off all goods. Who could resist that? Today my checkbook was nestled in my pocket. I thanked God because I hardly ever carried it with me. I charged through as many stores as I could until my arms became heavy with purchases. Sweaters, jeans, shoes, underwear, and more were stuffed into shopping bags. I glanced at my wristwatch and realized how late in the day it was.
    Outside, the daylight had grown dim. Lights illuminated the parking garage. I scurried toward the car with the expectation I’d find it where I had left it. The Cooper sat under the compact car parking sign where I’d left it—no damage, and no problems. I heaved a sigh of relief as I unlocked the car door.
    Once the bags were bundled into the back seat, I slid in and backed out of the parking spot. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I left the city for Cranston where I hoped to cadge a meal from my parents. It grew darker as I made my way through traffic. The road forked. I turned and glanced to the right and then the left. I turned back to the right and in that fraction of a second, I realized the woman walking along the sidewalk was none other than the old hag who had robbed me the day before.
    I slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt. I swung the steering wheel hard. Traffic slid to a stop, horns blew, and hand gestures prevailed while I turned around. The Cooper was a great car for tight turns. As I neared the spot I’d seen her, I saw that the pedestrian was gone.
    At a snail’s pace, I cruised the streets, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. I drove up one street and down another. She’d disappeared. I flicked my cell phone open and hit speed dial. Freedom answered on the first ring. I told her what had happened and where I’d seen the woman. She said she would keep an eye out in the future and thanked me for the call.
    Within minutes I’d arrived at the compact Cape Cod style house where I’d grown up with my twin brother, Giovanni. We’d raised hell in the neighborhood during our childhood years. The local stadium, several blocks down the street, had hosted many games where my brother had played. Baseball games where my mother had yelled at the umpire and embarrassed the entire family with her colorful language. I smiled at the memory and parked in the yard.
    Marcus owned a Victorian-style house, remodeled into a townhouse type of duplex. It sat a couple blocks away from my family’s home, but was not visible from it. The neighborhood was an old one with working people who went to bed early and rose early. Hard-working folks who’d raised their kids, watched them go to college, and get married. Now retired, these folks awaited slews of grandchildren.
    My father was no different. My mother, on the other hand, had not been ready to retire. She worked for me at a gift shop in Providence, the one I’d inherited from Aunt Livvy. Mom did the accounts and helped the sales girls when things got busy. Warm, welcoming lights glowed through the kitchen windows as I sauntered