Weapon of Choice, A by Jennifer L. Jennings Read Free Book Online Page A

asked.
    “Only once,” she said.  “That woman came here looking for Melanie.”
    “Did Melanie forget they had a meeting?”
    “I don’t think so.  Truth is, Melanie was trying to avoid her because Greta was on her case, kept calling her and bugging her about the new manuscript.  Melanie would do anything to avoid a confrontation.”
    “What was your impression of Greta?” I asked.
    “She’s high strung, boisterous and rude.  I could see why Melanie wanted to avoid seeing her face to face.”
    I returned the book to the bookshelf and scanned the other titles.  Mostly psychology related volumes.  “Do you know if Melanie kept a copy of her work in progress on an external device?”
    “I don’t know.  It wasn’t on her laptop?”
    “No,” I said.  “Did Melanie have a different computer that she did her work on?”
    “The only laptop I ever saw was the MacBook.”
    “Yeah,” I said.  “That’s the one I have.”
    When Carter appeared by my side, he gave me the thumbs down.  “No luck, Sarah.  I checked everywhere.”
    “Okay. We should probably hit the road, anyway.”
    “How is Candice doing, by the way?” Amy said to me as we exited Melanie’s office and locked up.  “I keep meaning to call her.”
    “Well, you should call her,” I said.  “I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”
    Amy smiled and shook my hand and then Carter’s.  “Good luck with your investigation.”
    I offered an appreciative smile. “Thanks. We appreciate that.”
    Amy handed me a business card.  “My personal cell number is on there.  Feel free to call me anytime.”
     

Chapter 10
     
     
     
     
    While Carter drove the fifty-eight miles to the Framingham Correctional Facility, I called Greta Stone.  Her secretary informed me that Greta was not in her office and asked for my name and number.  I told the woman that I’d call back later. 
    I had got in the habit of never leaving phone messages.  Most of the time, people don’t call back, especially if it doesn’t benefit them in some way.  The best practic e— and a valuable one I’d learned from Carte r— is to meet people face to face, whenever possible. 
    “Hey Carter, what if Melanie was planning to write a segment in her book about her husband’s small weenie? Maybe Gregory found out and wanted to make sure she didn’t write that book.  But then again, it’s a silly reason to kill someone.”
    Carter laughed.  “Never underestimate the power of a man’s ego.”
    “Yeah, I know guys can be very sensitive about the size of their genitalia, but size doesn’t matter to women as long as they know how to use it.”
    He raised an eyebrow at me.  “Is that right?”
    “Yep.  Unless a woman has a cavernous vagina, a small Johnson is not a big problem.”
    “You mean a small problem?” he teased.
    “Whatever.” I could feel my face getting hot.  I lowered the window for fresh air.  “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.  Mind if we grab some fast food before we visit Jasmine? Visiting hours don’t start until noon and we’re ahead of schedule.”
    “Sure.  What are you in the mood for?”
    I was going to say hot dogs, but decided not to press my luck.  I was done with the penis jokes.  “Roast beef sandwich sounds good to me.”
     
    * * *
    The Framingham Correctional Facility looked like my old high school or, rather, the insane asylum , as my friends and I liked to call it.  The massive, brick structure had a foreboding feel to it.  Probably had something to do with the barbed wire fence surrounding the place.
    Carter and I walked into the entrance and right up to an information desk.  A sallow looking fellow was seated behind the desk.  He lifted his head slowly, as if annoyed.
    “Can I help you folks?” His said in a clipped tone.
    “Yes,” Carter said.  “We’re here to see an inmate.  Her name is Jasmine Thompson.”
    He studied us for a few seconds, sizing us up.  “Are you her