Flourless to Stop Him by Nancy J. Parra Read Free Book Online

through the air.
    “Naw, his face was too messed up. I don’t think I know him.”
    “So then what? Did someone steal your identity?” I grabbed two thick white ceramic mugs off the shelf and poured us both cups of hot coffee. I handed Tim his cup. I grabbed half-and-half from the refrigerator and poured some into mine. I used to like my coffee black but had read that coffee could leach the calcium out of your bones. If you drink it with a splash of milk you slow down that process.
    Grandma Ruth had shrunk nearly four inches with osteoporosis. I hoped to not repeat her mistakes. I mean, what do we have grandparents for if not to learn from them? Of course, we were both divorced, so I suppose there are some things a girl has to learn for herself.
    I handed Tim the creamer. He poured some into his coffee and then dumped in half a cup of sugar. I shook my head and sipped my warm, rich, creamy, bitter brew. “How can you drink it so sweet?”
    “How can you drink it so bitter?” he countered with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t think I had my identity stolen,” he said and tasted his coffee. “But that’s a good point.”
    “Don’t you check?” I asked. “They have these companies now that will keep an eye out for identity theft.”
    “Who has the time?” He leaned on the chair back, the warm mug held between his hands. “Besides, this is Oiltop. Who would steal my identity here?”
    “Someone did.” I lowered my chin and gave him the
duh
look. “Unless that was you at the Red Tile Inn.”
    “It was not me.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m getting myself together. Isn’t that what your forties are for?”
    “I thought that was what your thirties were for,” I teased. “Twenties are to figure out who you are. Thirties to get your stuff together and forties to be a grown-up.”
    “Being a grown-up stinks,” Tim said.
    “Sometimes.” I nodded my agreement. “I’ll have Grandma do a credit check on you and see if anything is out of the ordinary. If we can prove your identity was stolen, then they have to dismiss you as a person of interest.”
    “Fine.”
    “In the meantime you can crash back at the house if you think the cops will keep you from getting sleep.”
    “Thanks.” Tim rose and finished off his coffee in one single gulp. “Are Tasha and Kip still there?”
    “Yes,” I said. “Also, Grandma said something about Mindy coming for a visit. So take the back bedroom. There are sheets and blankets in the cupboard.”
    “Mindy? I haven’t seen her in like five years.”
    “I know, right? Grandma tells me Mindy is serious about this new guy she’s seeing.”
    “Is she bringing him?”
    “Maybe, I don’t know. Grandma didn’t say.” I shrugged. “She might want Grandma’s approval.”
    “Cool, now I
have
to stay at the house.” Tim grinned, stood, and kissed me on the cheek. “Consider me moved back for a bit, okay, sis?”
    “Okay.” I patted him on the arm. “Just pay attention to your credit, okay? I mean, if someone stole your identity, you could have bills you don’t even know about.”
    “Yeah, yeah.” He buttoned up his coat. “Solve this thing for me, okay?”
    “I’m not making any promises. It’s Christmas and do-or-die time at the bakery. Plus I think I’m really bad at investigating. I don’t want to muck it up for you, either.”
    “Yeah, I get it,” he said. His tone sounded defeated.
    “Calvin’s a good guy, really. I think you can trust him.”
    “I hope you’re right.” He popped a NASCAR cap on his head. “Lock the door behind me.”
    I stuck my tongue out at him, but did as he said and turned the dead bolt behind him. Oiltop might not be Chicago, but that didn’t mean we didn’t have our fair share of crime. I learned that after George Meister’s murder just outside the bakery’s front door a few months ago.
    Turning on the radio, I let the soft sounds of twenty-four hours of Christmas music waft through the kitchen. I know listening