A Lonely Way to Die: A Utah O'Brien Mystery Novel (Minnesota Mysteries Series Book 2) by Jonni Good Read Free Book Online

fun, it wouldn’t be fair to deprive them.
    We drove at a very leisurely speed to the north end of town, while the snow blew in swirling eddies in front of us. I tried to keep my face out of the wind by leaning against Mort’s back, but it didn’t help much. I was feeling pretty miserable by the time we stopped at Mildred’s little yellow bungalow and pulled up onto the yard, but Jocko was still enjoying his adventure. Mort didn’t mind the cold, either, although his nose and cheeks were red.
     
    Mildred’s front walkway had been cleared that morning, but another inch of snow had fallen since then.
    We opened the storm door on the covered porch and went inside, out of the wind. Mort rang the doorbell.
    When Emma opened the door, she looked a little frazzled. Her short blond hair was damp and listless, and she had a spatula in one hand. A big smile was pasted on her heart-shaped face, but it looked a little painful. When she saw us standing there, the smile was replaced by an honest look of confusion.
    Mildred’s voice came from several rooms away. “Emma, bring her in. Don’t make her stand out there in the cold.”
    “Oh—I don’t know where I left my manners,” Emma said. She stood aside. I left Jocko on the porch and walked into the front room, and Mort followed me.
    Emma taught third grade, and I’d been getting to know her rather well since the beginning of the school year. I volunteered to teach an after-school drama class, and Emma came to help out sometimes. She was great with the kids, especially the little ones from her class who volunteered to play the dwarfs.
    She gestured towards a coat rack, and we took off our hats and jackets as she called out to her mother. “It isn’t her, Mom. Mort and Utah are here.” The smell of baking cookies was almost overwhelming—chocolate chip, my favorite. We kicked off our boots and left them by the door.
    Mildred came out of the kitchen, rubbing her hands on a kitchen towel. She was wearing an apron over a dress I’d never seen her wear before, a nice cotton print with lavender and green flowers on it. She had her hair done—I could tell because the last traces of brassy red had been cut off the ends, and her curly gray hair looked nice framing her round face. She took a fast look at her watch. I did the same. Eight thirty-five, not a normal time for drop-in visitors.
    “Well,” she said. “This is …” She looked from me, to Mort, then back to me, with a question written on her face.
    I glanced at Mort. He didn’t say anything. I guessed it was my turn.
    “Mildred, we need to talk to you. Can we sit for a minute? We won’t stay long.”
    “Well …” She looked back towards the kitchen.
    Emma caught the glance, and said, “Go ahead, Mom. You should sit down for a second, anyway. You’ve been working all morning.”
    Emma went into the kitchen to watch the cookies, while Mildred graciously invited us to sit. I saw myself in the big mirror over the fireplace. Hat hair—it was not a good sight. I patted my flattened curly white hair uselessly and took my place beside Mort on a soft, flowered sofa. It was comfortable, and I wanted to sit back and relax, but I didn’t. Emma peeked around the edge of the kitchen doorway and said, “Can I bring you some coffee? And a cookie?”
    We declined. Emma disappeared again into the kitchen. Mildred sat across from us on an overstuffed blue chair and waited, while picking at the hem of her apron. “Is it about something at work? I can’t go in today—”
    “No, Mildred. It’s about Gwyneth,” I said. “She was coming to see you this morning?”
    “Yes. Did Emma tell you?” She took a quick glance at the kitchen doorway. “She didn’t think we should say anything, in case it didn’t go well. We haven’t talked to Gwyneth for a long time, you know, and we aren’t sure what … well, we don’t know how it will go, so we weren’t going to—”
    “No, Emma didn’t tell us. There’s bad news,