Read Online All Murders Final! by Sherry Harris - Free Book Online

us, and some stayed at their tables, watching and whispering. Evenings like this made me think I should move into Boston, where you had some degree of anonymity.
    Finally, when things calmed down, we talked about the weather and a rash of car thefts in Ellington, we complimented the Chianti we’d ordered, and we concentrated on our pasta. My shrimp verdicchio had succulent shrimp, black olives, artichoke hearts, and sundried tomatoes in a wine-butter sauce over a bed of spaghetti. CJ powered through his lasagna and meatballs. I was surprised when CJ agreed to share a tiramisu with me, because at this point it was abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested in sharing any other part of my life.
    I wondered why we were here as I took a first bite of the tiramisu.
    â€œI wanted to talk to you about your virtual garage sale.” CJ fiddled with his fork but didn’t dig into the tiramisu. I almost spit mine out. That was the last thing I had expected this dinner to be about.
    â€œOkay,” I said. “What do you want to know?”
    â€œIt’s what you need to know. They’re dangerous.”
    I took a small bite of the tiramisu. Either to give myself a moment to think or to keep from stabbing my fork into CJ’s hand. I swallowed. “We haven’t had any problems.” At least any problems that were worth notifying the police about. “They’re designed so people know the members in the group.”
    â€œHow many people are in your group?”
    â€œThree thousand.” I’d been amazed by how quickly the group had grown.
    â€œAnd you know every single one of them?”
    I tightened my hand around the fork and decided to set it down. I clasped my hands together. “Not personally. But each person is recommended by someone else that’s in the group. I check out their profiles to make sure they’re a real person before adding them.”
    â€œIt’s very naive to think someone can’t fake a profile.”
    â€œI get that. But if there’s a problem with someone, I ban them from the group.” How odd that CJ would bring this up now, after I’d been a bit worried about the complaints about the cleaning lady.
    â€œIt’s not the only issue. I’ve heard that people go to a stranger’s house to pick up and drop stuff off. It seems . . . foolish.”
    Now I wished I’d driven over here myself, because I’d be excusing myself and leaving, minus the excusing part. “I encourage people to meet at a neutral place, like Dunkin’ Donuts. That isn’t practical if you’re selling a couch. I ask people not to go to someone’s house alone. And not to be home alone when someone comes to pick something up during any transaction.”
    â€œLook at the things that have happened to people on national sites.”
    â€œThat’s why this is safer. It’s smaller groups of people who have some connection. A lot of police departments are letting people use their lobbies to make exchanges. Maybe you should consider that.”
    â€œI’ll look into it.”
    â€œHave you heard something specific about my site?”
    â€œNo. But it’s my responsibility as chief to make sure the townsfolk are safe.”
    â€œNoted. Do you also always take the townsfolk out to dinner to do so?”
    CJ didn’t answer.
    I stood and tossed some cash down on the table to cover my share of the bill. “Please take me home.”

Chapter 8
    When I woke Monday morning, I felt like I’d spent half the night thinking about Margaret and the other half about the picture of me looking into her car. If the picture taker was the murderer, I might be lucky to be alive, if not well that was just plain creepy. No matter how many times I turned it over in my head, nothing made the situation okay.
    On the ride home last night CJ had told me they found the man Margaret had been arguing with at the party Laura had