cousin of the 911 operator and she heard you found some dead guy riddled with holes and bleeding all over the place. What was that like? Was that totally gross?”
I reminded myself that my younger sister had never found a dead body. Her only experience with murder was from watching NCIS .
“As a matter of fact, Ashlee, the whole thing was pretty horrible. A man was killed, you know.”
“But you didn’t know the guy, right?”
Did that really matter? “No.”
Mom glanced around. “Girls, let’s get in the house before the neighbors see us out here. We don’t want them gossiping.”
Gossiping about what? That we were talking on our own porch? I looked across the street at the closed windows, no crack in the blinds where an evil neighbor gossiper might be peeking through the slats.
With a last look around, I followed Mom indoors, Ashlee practically bouncing on my heels in her eagerness to find out more about my grisly discovery.
“Was his skin all pale?” she asked, stalking me as I walked into the living room.
I sat down in the recliner and settled into the familiar contour of the thinning cushion. I released a sigh, some of the tension escaping with my breath. Though the brown corduroy seat had a bald patch and I had to use two hands on the footstool release lever, the recliner had been Dad’s favorite and Mom refused to replace it.
Ashlee perched nearby on the edge of the brown and beige floral couch, almost sliding off the chenille surface as she leaned toward me. She lowered her voice to a whisper, even though Mom was in the kitchen and out of earshot. “I heard that when someone dies, they, you know, poop their pants. Did he?”
“Ashlee, please!” I snapped. “I’m not going to talk about it.”
Ashlee put a hand over her chest like I’d stabbed her with her mascara wand, just as Mom walked into the room with a glass of iced tea, the ice cubes stacked in a neat pile.
“Now, Dana, don’t yell. It’s perfectly natural that your sister is curious. No one ever gets killed in this town. People are bound to have questions.” She handed me the glass. “Drink this tea. You look thirsty.”
How exactly did one look thirsty? Were my eyes bulging? My lips cracked? Man, was I cranky. I sipped the tea and instantly felt better, though I kept that info to myself.
“I never would have gotten you that job if I’d known how dangerous it was,” Mom said.
“You couldn’t know someone would be murdered,” I said, pressing the glass against my temple, the condensation cool against my warm skin. “Odds are better that I’d win best tap dancer at the Blossom Valley talent contest, and I don’t even know how to tap dance.”
Mom took the glass from me and set it on a ceramic coaster on the oak end table. “But Esther must be beside herself. First, Arnold passes away, now her dream spa is home to a crime as ugly as murder.”
“Sure, she’s upset. Gordon, that manager she hired, convinced her that people would run screaming when they heard about the murder.”
Ashlee shivered. “I wouldn’t stay where a man was killed. Talk about creepy.”
“Poor Esther,” Mom said. “I wish I could help somehow.”
Too lazy to bend down, I used the toe of one Ked to shove the heel of the other off my foot. It thunked on the floor. I wiggled my free toe into the heel of the other shoe and it dropped down to its partner. “Don’t worry. I told Esther I’d try to find out information to pass along to the police, help with their investigation.”
Ashlee popped another bubble. “Just like that Mentalist guy.”
Mom picked up my shoes and placed them to the side of the recliner with only the tiniest of frowns. “Isn’t that dangerous? Someone was murdered, Dana. I don’t like the idea of you poking around.”
“I’m not going to sneak into guests’ cabins at night or rifle through their luggage. All I’m doing is paying extra attention, looking for anything odd or out of place.” Well, I’d
I reminded myself that my younger sister had never found a dead body. Her only experience with murder was from watching NCIS .
“As a matter of fact, Ashlee, the whole thing was pretty horrible. A man was killed, you know.”
“But you didn’t know the guy, right?”
Did that really matter? “No.”
Mom glanced around. “Girls, let’s get in the house before the neighbors see us out here. We don’t want them gossiping.”
Gossiping about what? That we were talking on our own porch? I looked across the street at the closed windows, no crack in the blinds where an evil neighbor gossiper might be peeking through the slats.
With a last look around, I followed Mom indoors, Ashlee practically bouncing on my heels in her eagerness to find out more about my grisly discovery.
“Was his skin all pale?” she asked, stalking me as I walked into the living room.
I sat down in the recliner and settled into the familiar contour of the thinning cushion. I released a sigh, some of the tension escaping with my breath. Though the brown corduroy seat had a bald patch and I had to use two hands on the footstool release lever, the recliner had been Dad’s favorite and Mom refused to replace it.
Ashlee perched nearby on the edge of the brown and beige floral couch, almost sliding off the chenille surface as she leaned toward me. She lowered her voice to a whisper, even though Mom was in the kitchen and out of earshot. “I heard that when someone dies, they, you know, poop their pants. Did he?”
“Ashlee, please!” I snapped. “I’m not going to talk about it.”
Ashlee put a hand over her chest like I’d stabbed her with her mascara wand, just as Mom walked into the room with a glass of iced tea, the ice cubes stacked in a neat pile.
“Now, Dana, don’t yell. It’s perfectly natural that your sister is curious. No one ever gets killed in this town. People are bound to have questions.” She handed me the glass. “Drink this tea. You look thirsty.”
How exactly did one look thirsty? Were my eyes bulging? My lips cracked? Man, was I cranky. I sipped the tea and instantly felt better, though I kept that info to myself.
“I never would have gotten you that job if I’d known how dangerous it was,” Mom said.
“You couldn’t know someone would be murdered,” I said, pressing the glass against my temple, the condensation cool against my warm skin. “Odds are better that I’d win best tap dancer at the Blossom Valley talent contest, and I don’t even know how to tap dance.”
Mom took the glass from me and set it on a ceramic coaster on the oak end table. “But Esther must be beside herself. First, Arnold passes away, now her dream spa is home to a crime as ugly as murder.”
“Sure, she’s upset. Gordon, that manager she hired, convinced her that people would run screaming when they heard about the murder.”
Ashlee shivered. “I wouldn’t stay where a man was killed. Talk about creepy.”
“Poor Esther,” Mom said. “I wish I could help somehow.”
Too lazy to bend down, I used the toe of one Ked to shove the heel of the other off my foot. It thunked on the floor. I wiggled my free toe into the heel of the other shoe and it dropped down to its partner. “Don’t worry. I told Esther I’d try to find out information to pass along to the police, help with their investigation.”
Ashlee popped another bubble. “Just like that Mentalist guy.”
Mom picked up my shoes and placed them to the side of the recliner with only the tiniest of frowns. “Isn’t that dangerous? Someone was murdered, Dana. I don’t like the idea of you poking around.”
“I’m not going to sneak into guests’ cabins at night or rifle through their luggage. All I’m doing is paying extra attention, looking for anything odd or out of place.” Well, I’d
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