Trouble in a Big Box (A Kelly O'Connell Mystery) by Judy Alter Read Free Book Online Page B

she’s gone this long every afternoon. Sit down and stop pacing.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Well, don’t make her feel like a baby by chasing her. She’ll be fine. She knows the stranger rules, and there are friendly houses along her route.”
    A friendly house has a print of a hand in its window—a helping hand, a signal to children that people in this house will help them if they’re in trouble. Anyone could put a friendly handprint in a front window. How do you know if it’s legit ? Okay, I was getting carried away here.
    Maggie was breathless when she came in. “We went around the block twice and ran a lot of the way. We’re both tired, and we need water.” They were indeed both panting, and I got a fresh bowl of water for Gus and a glass of ice water for Maggie.
    Mike sat calmly on the couch. “Remember that Dr. Seuss book, And To Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street ? What did you see on Alston or College? Anything remarkable?”
    Maggie gave him a long look. “Well I saw that old green car, if that’s what you’re asking. It drove real slow alongside me, but the driver didn’t say anything. That’s one of the reasons we ran the last time around the block.”
    Mike high-fived her. “Okay, kid, you just passed the test. Good job. We’re getting you a whistle to wear around your neck.”
    “No way. Ug-ly !”
    “Your mom has one.”
    She looked at me and I held it away from my chest for her inspection. “We could glue jewels on it and get a fancy rope,” I suggested.
    I could see the wheels turning. No other girls in school wore a jeweled whistle.
    But first came Buck Conroy’s visit. He barged in as usual, barely said hello, and went straight to the refrigerator on the back porch to help himself to a beer. Then he plopped down in one of the big chairs and would have put his feet on the coffee table if I hadn’t given him the evil eye.
    “What? Mike has his foot on the table.”
    “Mike has a broken leg. Try it, and I’ll break yours for you.”
    “By golly, I think she means it,” he said to Mike, planting his feet firmly on the floor. “What’s gotten into Kelly?”
    I hate, hate, hate to be talked about as if I’m not present or don’t quite have good sense.
    “I’m fed up,” I said. “That’s what’s gotten into me. Mike was the victim in an accident, so why should the girls and I have to be so careful? It’s not fair.” Okay, I knew as soon as I said that, I left myself open for the classic, “Life ain’t always fair” line.
    But Conroy looked at me and said, “No, it’s not. You get a plate on that car?”
    I realized I’d had the opportunity and blew it. My chagrin telegraphed itself from my face.
    “Tsk, tsk, Kelly. If you’re gonna do detective work, you’ll have to be better about details.” He pulled a cigar out of his pocket, looked at me and said, “Just chewin ’ on the end, darlin ’, just chewin ’. No way I’d dare light it in your house. Now my little wife....”
    “Wife!” I exploded. “You and Joanie aren’t married.”
    “As of last Saturday, at the courthouse, with McKenzie as our only guest. Made it official.”
    Of course we both offered congratulations, and Mike went on a bit too long about the bliss of the married state—was I hearing sarcasm? I offered to throw a party, an offer that Conroy declined without consulting Joanie. I was still mulling over the marriage and trying to think of Joanie as Conroy’s wife rather than girlfriend—with someone like Conroy, that’s a huge change in status—when Mike said dryly, “Can you two stop baiting each other long enough to discuss this situation with the green Nova? And, Kelly, would you call the girls in here?”
    “Can we talk without them first?” Buck asked.
    We agreed, and he launched into what he knew. It wasn’t much. Sonny Adams said he knew nothing about threats. The dead girl’s name was Rosalinda Garza. She was nineteen, from a poor family on the North Side. They thought