Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 02 - Murder in the Maine Woods by Bernadine Fagan Read Free Book Online Page B

care of it,” I said jokingly.
    “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
    “I can handle this,” I assured her. “I’m not incompetent.”
    “Oh, I know. Didn’t mean to offend. It’s just your … allergies.”
    Okay. She thought I was incompetent.
    “WAC?” I asked.
    “Women’s Army Corp s.”
    I vaguely remembered that from history class. “Were you a WAC, too?”
    “No. Just Sheila.”
    “My allergies. I’ll need more protection. I’ll be right back.”
    I ran upstairs. I’d wear a mask is what I’d do.
    I pawed through my suitcases for something to cover my nose. Found a scarf. No, I wouldn’t wear a good silk scarf. What if I dropped it, and the dogs ran off with it? A quick, ugly flash of cat and dog hairs, or worse, tooth holes made me shiver. No, my scarves were out. Inspiration finally struck in the most unlikely spot, the underwear section. I grabbed a red bra, tested it over my nose, and decided the little pocket was perfect, better than any scarf. It was like one of those filter masks people wear in a contagion zone. Who would see? No one, that’s who. I stuffed it in my pocket and headed downstairs.
     
     
    Vivian lived about a half an hour away. I was beginning to think of distance in terms of time, not city blocks or even miles. Interesting.
    Since I’d been to Vivian’s a few times, I didn’t have much trouble finding the place. It took about forty minutes. I’m getting better. Although I did come from the opposite direction this time. How that happened, I’m not sure. Maybe I should have called Mary Fran. I slowed as I passed Verney’s house. The yellow crime scene tape was still in place.
    I paused at the foot of his driveway. That’s when it hit me. He probably owned a computer. Assuming he died of natural causes, it might have been overlooked when the body was picked up. What a bonanza that could be. I’d tend to that when I finished at Vivian’s. This whole case might be wrapped up in a day or so.
    I’d feed the dogs first. That way if I found a computer I could check it out without worrying about the dogs howling with hunger.
    The barking started as soon as I drove up. Fortunately they were all in the dog pen, locked up. I counted eight dogs. I gave them water first. How easy was this. Just squirt the hose into the water bowls through the chain link fence. Piece of cake.
    Next, I took the key from under the front door mat and went inside to the open pantry off the kitchen. I sneezed twice. That was enough. I was prepared, and I intended to do this right. I took the lacy red bra from my pocket, cupped it over my nose, wound the straps around my head and tied them. I tightened it, and anchored it as securely as a boat docked in a high wind. This sucker was not coming off. It would keep out the cat dander and dog hairs quite nicely. One of my best ideas yet.
    Ingenuity. It’s what made this country great.
    I scooped a huge portion of dog food into a plastic container and took it outside. This might be a little dicey. I had to open the gate, enter, and divide the food among four bowls lined up on the far side. I recognized the gas-passer lying in a corner, alone, eyeing me suspiciously. I’d give him a wide berth.
    “Hello, you guys,” I said in my friendliest voice. “My name is Nora. I’ll be your waitress for this meal. You will have to share a bowl with your neighbor. Two to a bowl. No fighting, but the fastest eaters will get the most.”
    I unlocked the gate, and opened it wide enough to slip in sideways, then closed it.
    They rushed me. Surrounded me.
    Holding the plastic bowl over my head, I inched toward the dishes, zigzagging around little heaps of dog dooty.
    After being left alone for hours, they were ecstatic about company, even if it was only me. They jumped at my ankles, bouncing and pawing, woofing and yapping, like they’d been stranded on a desert island and I’d arrived with a yacht and a T-bone.
    Then I bent over to distribute the