Glazed Murder by Jessica Beck Read Free Book Online Page B

grab it. "Momma, who are you calling?"
     
"I'm going to find out what Phillip is doing about this case so you'll stop meddling in police business."
     
As far as I knew, Momma was the only one in town who didn't call the police chief Martin, and that probably included his own wife.
     
"Like I told you before, I don't need his help," I said.
     
"I believe otherwise," she snapped. "Now will you kindly remove your hand so I can use my own telephone?"
     
"Fine," I said, knowing I'd already lost the battle. "You can call him if you want to, but I'm not going to be here to listen to it."
     
I grabbed my keys off the counter, and she asked, "Where do you think you are going, young lady?"
     
"I'm taking a walk in the park," I snapped. That was one of the nicest things about our house. It was close enough to downtown--and my shop--so I could walk to work on pretty mornings if I wanted, and take a stroll across the street in the city park on my way home, though I normally limited those forays to when it was at least a little warmer, and a whole lot lighter out.
     
Momma said, "Suzanne, it's dark and it's cold outside. Have you lost your mind completely?"
     
"Apparently. I moved back in with my mother in my thirties. I'm pretty sure that qualifies as going over the bend in most circles."
     
I stormed out, not even sure why I was so angrywith her. Was it because she was calling her former beau, something I knew she hated doing, or was it because she was right? Sometimes I find myself getting angriest when people call me on my behavior. Did I have any business tracking down a killer on my own?
     
Honestly, no matter what my mother thought, I didn't have much choice. Sure, I would have preferred that whoever dumped Patrick Blaine's body had done it on the other side of town, but they hadn't. Whether the choice had been planned or random, I was drawn into it, whether I liked it or not. The fact that Patrick had been a customer of mine, and someone I'd liked, just made things worse.
     
What I wasn't going to do was be a victim and wait for a blow that might or might not ever come. I couldn't spend the rest of the day looking over my shoulder, let alone the rest of my life.
     
As expected, the park was deserted. I was freezing, and I was getting a massive headache to add to the mix. I needed to go home, patch things up with my mother, and see if I could come up with a plan for tomorrow. If not, it would be time to make the donuts again soon enough, and if I didn't get at least six hours of sleep, I'd be worthless the next day.
     
My phone was ringing when I got back to my room, a personal line I'd had installed the day I'd moved in. Cell phones were nice, but I needed a land-line for my computer, and I wasn't about to tie up Momma's phone while I was online. When I wasn't using the Internet, it served as a way for my friends to get in touch with me, since--likely as not--my cellphone battery would be in dire need of recharging, and they could always leave me a message on my machine.
     
I should have let the machine pick it up.
     
At least then I would have had a record of the threat.
     
After I said hello, a voice said, "Stop digging into the murder, or you are going to be next. This has nothing to do with you. Make sure it stays that way."
     
The caller, having whispered his warning, hung up.
     
Evidently, whoever had killed Patrick Blaine was aware of what I'd been up to after work today. The warning was clear enough, and from the hissed words, I didn't doubt they were sincere. Anybody with a lick of common sense would stop now--I fully realized that--but how could I be sure the caller would leave me alone, even if I did as I was told? It might just be a way to get me to back off until he could finish me off without arousing suspicion. Then again, I knew that life would be better if I could just drop it.
     
But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Having known Patrick, and seeing his body hit the street, was enough to keep me