Murder Takes to the Hills by Jessica Thomas Read Free Book Online

fine old adage from my grandfather: Fifteen will get you twenty.” She gave me a sad little smile. “What’s it to be, free stock trades or me?”
    “Oh, you, by all means. What’s a million more or less?”
     
    After lunch I walked Cindy back to within a block of the bank. There I leaned against a phone pole and went over an imaginary shopping list in the little notebook I always carried with me.   No one seemed interested in Cindy, and I went on to retrieve my car from the bank lot. As I backed out of my parking space, I caught a quick glance of Larry Wismer sitting on the concrete rim that surrounded the fountain and thought vaguely that his grandmother was running awfully late.
    Driving back to the cottage, I resolutely blocked stalkers from my thoughts and considered the several suggestions we had received recommending a vacation.   Maybe we should get away for a short while, and now might be a good time to do so—come the summer season, we probably wouldn’t have the time.
    I tried to think of someplace simple and inexpensive and couldn’t. Maybe we should just spend a day or so in Boston picking out the furniture and carpeting and draperies for our ever-expanding Master Suite.   Of course, that wouldn’t be simple or inexpensive either.  
    In the pre-Cindy days, when I had thought merely of adding a bedroom and bathroom, I had noticed several furniture store ads touting free decorator service.   I had planned to pick one of them and tell the decorator to show me something plain, comfortable and cheerful…all of it affordable. I figured on getting the whole thing settled in maybe an hour…a maximum of two hours. Now I imagined we would not use a decorator and would doubtless visit a dozen stores at least twice.
    I braked the car in front of the cottage, making an abrupt stop that sent gravel flying and brought Aunt Mae flying out of her garage, where she was beginning to set up shop for her popular herb market.
    “What on earth is going on? Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine. I hit the brakes a little hard, that’s all. Aunt Mae, do you know a good furniture store in Boston?”
    “Certainly. Several, in fact.”
    “Ah, good, I thought you might. Would you be kind enough to give me the address of one?” I asked.
    “No need, dear.” She smiled. “I already gave the entire list to Cindy. I’m sure she has it somewhere.”
    “Thanks. I’m sure you’re right.” I managed not to slam the car door and gave my dear aunt a smile and a wave as I turned to the cottage.

CHAPTER SIX
    Wednesday morning I walked Cindy out to her car as she left for work and wished her well with her introduction to Edgar Fountain at noon.
    She grimaced and shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, if Sonny recommends him. But I feel very strange knowing someone is definitely watching my every move, even though he’s on my side. It’s a weird feeling—being watched because you are being watched. I’m sure I won’t be able to do a thing naturally. I’ll probably overact like a nineteen thirties Grade B actress.”
    “Yes,” I laughed. “I can see you at the Diggity Dog, waving a white gloved hand: Oh, yass , my good woman, I’ll have the soup du jury and salad Niceswazz   and a glass of peanut blanc . And the waitress will answer: Right, honey, one dog with mustard, one fries and a diet Coke.”
    “In your dreams.” She started the car and leaned out the window for a kiss. At least she was grinning.
    I watched her turn at the corner and saw one of the police department’s unmarked cars pull out behind her. I wondered if the stalker were watching and if he knew the police car as well as I did.
    That evening Cindy got home in a very up mood. Edgar was quite nice and rather fatherly. He was most reassuring and teased her that he turned into a pet dog who simply followed his mistress everywhere and nobody paid any attention to him and neither should she. Just forget he was there, but remember she was safe.
    He