I Spy Dead People by Jennifer Fischetto Read Free Book Online Page B

about. Mr. Friedman hops into his sports car, while Mrs. Friedman is on her knees in front of her flower garden. I make a mental note to ask Kinley which days the gardener visits. I have to get a glimpse of him.
    I don't want to approach either of these women, so when Mrs. Rodriquez steps outside with her daughter and sets up a tea party in the grass, I hurry over. When I get closer I realize Mrs. Rodriquez is sporting a small baby bump.
    "Hi," I say more enthusiastic than I'm feeling. I slept solid for the last seven hours, but once again I was disturbed by dreams of being chased by Linzy and a loud car.
    "Hi." Mrs. Rodriquez looks up. She wears a large straw hat which blocks the sun from her eyes.
    "Hi," says the little girl. "Do you wanna play with us?"
    "Um…" I look to her mom to see if it's okay.
    She waves a hand at the empty part of the blanket. "Please."
    "Okay." I sit and smile. "I'm Piper. We just moved in."
    Mrs. Rodriquez nods. "I saw the trucks the other day. You're with your dad?"
    I nod. "Yeah, we travel around all the time. He's a writer. Vincent Grimaldi."
    She shakes her head. Unless you're a crime buff, you wouldn't have heard of him. "Sorry. I don't do a lot of reading."
    No matter how many people tell me that, and there's been a lot, I still cringe each and every time. How can a person not read? That's like not breathing. It goes hand-in-hand.
    "My husband does though. I'll have to ask him. Oh, I'm Gabriella, but call me Gabi, and this is Jasmine."
    "Call me Jazzy," she says in a voice kinda deep for a little girl. It makes me giggle.
    "How old are you, Jazzy?"
    She holds up one hand and tries to bend her pinky down, but then her ring finger curves too. She repeats her actions to no avail, and a deep frown covers her eyes. Finally, huffing and obviously annoyed, she holds down her pinky with her other hand. All of that to show me she's four.
    Gabi and I laugh.
    "How old are you?" Jazzy asks.
    "Fifteen."
    "Wow, you're old. Are you old, Mami?"
    Gabi rubs her belly and winks at me. "Very old, baby."
    Jazzy pours water from a purple, plastic teapot into four plastic teacups. The fourth being for a giant, stuffed bear with a lopsided yellow bow. From the various colored stains on its fur, I'd guess he's an avid tea partier.
    When I look up, Gabi's staring at me. " Si es usted de Puerto Rico ?"
    "Uh?"
    She laughs deep in her chest. "I guess the answer is no then. I asked if you're Puerto Rican."
    "I am. Right, Mami?" the little girls peaks up.
    Gabi smooths Jazzy's dark hair with her hand.
    "Oh, no," I say. "Everyone thinks that though, especially when I lived in New York. My mom is black and my dad's Italian."
    Gabi nods. "Mixed babies are very beautiful."
    "Am I beautiful, Mami?"
    "Ah, mi hija , you are the most beautiful in all the land."
    Jazzy giggles. "Like Snow White?"
    "Exactly."
    A twinge stabs me in the chest. Did Mom and I have similar chats? Were we close? Did we share tea parties with my dolls? I barely remember what she looks like, let alone what we did.
    From the corner of my eye, I see Dad step outside. He looks up and down the street, then spots me and nods. A dark blue car pulls up in front of our house. A woman with long, auburn hair steps out and walks to Dad. They shake hands. Who's she? They both look over at the Quinn's.
    "So, have you heard anything about Linzy?" I ask.
    Gabi's eyes widen, and she nods toward Jazzy. "This one is a parrot, so be careful what you say. But no, not a word since last night. I was hoping we'd come out and hear something."
    I grin. We think alike. Very cool.
    "The chief acts like this is common."
    Gabi waves away a fly. "Oh yes. That youngest one is always causing drama. Always arguing, pushing her limits, and the parents just argue back, never demanding respect. Now if that was me…"
    She purses her lips and gives Jazzy a sideways glance. "Let me tell you, she will not even consider speaking to me that way."
    I chuckle. "My dad's the same way."
    She