A Dose of Murder by Lori Avocato Read Free Book Online

held the shovel in one hand, flipped her hat back with the other (Oh yes, there is a God!) and bent to shovel snow the plow had piled in front of her driveway. It had to be heavy! This was going to be—
    Fuzz
    Click
.
    Black.
    Black?
    The video camera went black. Dead battery.
    I leaned back, blinked my eyes since the strain of looking through the camera hurt, and cursed. Just like the proverbial sailor.
    Professionals don’t panic, I reminded myself again.
    I dropped the camera onto my lap with a
thump
and expelled a whoosh of air from my mouth at the weight. I grabbed my bag and hauled out the 35 mm. Two shots left. Good thing I’d never had the film developed. Had to be because I was so sick and tired of
attending
wedding after wedding. With a quick prayer that two-year-old film doesn’t go bad, I looked in the viewfinder. Foggy window. After a quick wipe of the glass, I leaned the camera near.
    Tina resumed her shoveling.
    My finger was poised on the shutter.
    Behind her I noticed a light blinking. A blue light. I looked through the camera to see a cop car pull around the corner and slow near the SUV. Good. Maybe he’d get arrested for being a Peeping Tom. Despite my wacko thought that I wouldn’t mind someone who looked like him peeking at me, I watched a few minutes.
    The cop looked too friendly with him. Uh-oh. They were laughing! Then they both looked at me!
    Oh no! Who
was
that guy? My finger slipped.
Snap
. Damn. A wasted shot.
    I probably shouldn’t hang around. Besides, hunger pangs reminded me it was after six. When all else fails, I think of food, and getting the hell away from here. Okay, when I sense the police are about to question me, I think of food. Tina’d have to wait.
    My parents would be sitting down to eat right now. Mom always served at six, twelve and six. No matter the day of the week. When we were kids, she made us get up at 6 A.M. for breakfast. As teens we’d sleepily shove something down, then sneak back to bed until around noon, when she’d wake us for lunch.
    I hurriedly flung the stupid camera into the backseat and vaulted across to the driver’s side. Thank goodness I was only blocks away from my folks’ house, or I’d get there in time for only dessert.
    The cop got back into his car, turned into a nearby driveway and started to back out—in my direction.
    I started the engine, dusted the snow from the front window with the wipers at warp speed and watched Tina lift a statue with one hand. Ack! I shouted, “You damn camera! You just cost me big! A waste of time.” Boy, someone her size was strong.
    As I drove past the SUV, I couldn’t help but slow, smile and scoot away. Wow! That wasn’t like me at all—but the look on the mystery man’s face was all worth it.
    Deliciously pissed.
    In my rearview mirror I could see Tina, still shoveling, and cursed at my behemoth of a video camera.
    I needed to talk to my folks—about my new job.
    About buying equipment.
    Making a mental sign of the cross so as not to take my hands from the steering wheel, I asked Saint Theresa for her help—yet again.
    I added another prayer that she wouldn’t get tired of me praying to her about all my causes and threw in that if she wanted to have the mystery man follow me and . . .
    Never mind. Saints shouldn’t get involved in things like that.
    I spun out of the circa 1700s neighborhood before the cop could follow me.
    â€œWhy would you need a new video camera?” my father asked through a mouthful of potato pancake. “Didn’t I give you my old one?”
    I scooped a dollop of sour cream onto my pancake and added another of applesauce. It had to be Friday night. Mom always cooked meatless Polish meals on Friday. I hadn’t realized today was Friday. Seems days ran together since I’d become an independent investigator—although I’d just started. But I didn’t miss the daily nursing