Ring Around the Rosy by Roseanne Dowell Read Free Book Online Page A

wondered who left it.
    Shrugging, she threw it on the
passenger seat, got in her car, and started it. First stop — the dry cleaners,
a name not on the list. She didn’t know Vincent personally, but stopped in
fairly often with clothes to be cleaned.
    Maybe the rose was from Dave. She
grinned, not able to keep her mind off the wilted flower while she drove. Nah,
that wasn’t his style. He wasn’t the secret admirer type — he’d hand it to her.
    Something didn’t feel right. Who
put the rose on her car? And why? Dave had said maybe someone wanted her
attention. She didn’t like the sudden bitter taste in her mouth. She swallowed.
This whole thing unnerved her. Usually the calm, steadfast person in a crisis,
she had suddenly turned to jelly.
    The bell on the door tinkled as
she walked into the dry cleaners. Dave’s words rang in her head. Be cautious,
be observant.
    Vincent smiled a hello and turned
to get her clothes. She didn’t even have to show her receipt. He knew her by
sight. The small dry cleaning shop was clean, with a long oak counter between
Vincent and the customers. Overhead hangers spun around a rack while Vincent
pushed a remote until her clothes came within reach. He reached up to get the
clothes and pushed his dark hair off his forehead. His smile reached his dark,
almost black eyes.
    The odor of dry cleaning fluid
smelled especially strong today. She paid for her cleaning and hurried out of
the small shop. Other than thank you, Vincent hadn’t said a word.
    He couldn’t be a suspect. Nope.
Though she didn’t know him well. His, like many others in this small
neighborhood, was a family-run business. He always appeared polite and
pleasant, sometimes making small talk, and sometimes not, like today, when he
was busy. Susan almost bumped into her friend, Jill on the way out.
    “Hey, Susan, how’s it going?”
    “Not bad. How are Jack and the
kids?”
    “They’re good. How about we get
together next week for lunch?” Jill looked at her watch. “As usual, I’m in a
hurry.”
    “Sounds good,” Susan said. “Give
me a call.” She hurried to her car.
    Next stop — the post office to
mail a package. She parked in front, and again remembered Dave’s words. Lord,
she was getting paranoid. Heck, she didn’t even know anyone at the post office.
Still, she took in everyone with a quick glance. A man at the counter looked
familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
    Waiting in line for her turn, she
tapped her foot impatiently. Fortunately, the small post office wasn’t too
crowded.
    A chest-high table where patrons
could fill out forms or address letters divided the sales counter from the
line. Only two clerks worked the counter.
    “Hi, Susan,” Greg, her neighbor,
said from behind her.
    She hadn’t noticed him come in.
Two people stood between them. She smiled and nodded her hello. She didn’t feel
like talking, but she observed the dark good looks of her neighbor. Medium
build with a pleasant, ordinary face, dark complexion — probably tanned — and
blonde hair, he stood almost a head taller than the people between them.  
    He didn’t look like a killer,
although what a killer looked like, she had no idea. Past news stories from
friends and neighbors of killers always described them as ordinary, normal
human beings. Could a killer be standing behind her? She shook the feeling.
    “I saw your story in the paper
this morning. Nice touch, the nursery rhymes headlines.” Greg seemed determined
to make conversation.
    “You wrote that story?” The man
behind her touched her shoulder. “Do the police really not have any suspects?”
    Shoot. She couldn’t take this. She
stepped out of line and ran out of the post office, ignoring the stares.
    In her car, she took a deep
breath. Why did she feel the need to escape? She started her car and suddenly
burst out crying.
    Good grief, was she going crazy?
All because of a stupid flower.
    There was probably a perfectly
innocent reason for it. Maybe