Read Online Appraisal for Murder by Elaine Orr - Free Book Online Page A

muffin paper, wondering when Scoobie had become a walking psychologist. “Sounds like me back then. My life did get better though.” I took a bite, much smaller than his. “My parents got back together and had actually worked things out, and I liked college.”
    “Me too, but my major was marijuana manufacturing, so I never graduated.”
    “Do you, uh, still…?”
    “Nah. I might have stopped anyway, but I’ve been arrested a few times for possession and once for selling. For that I spent several months boarding with the county.” He grinned. “I’m eventually trainable. Now I spend my evenings in Narcotics Anonymous meetings.”
    “And your days here?” I asked, gesturing to the beach and boardwalk.
    “A lot, unless it’s below freezing. Then you can find me in the library or Java Jolt.” He probably sensed my next question. “I have a room in a sort of permanent halfway house. It’s warm, but not where you want to spend a lot of time.”
    Talk about different roads traveled. I tried to think of something witty to say, but was fresh out.
    He continued. “So, when did you get into the appraisal stuff?”
    “Gee, what are you, the town crier?”
    “No, I saw the article in the paper. The one that said you found the old lady murdered.”
    I spit out a sip of coffee, narrowly missing him. “She wasn’t murdered! She was just dead, in her bed, even.”
    “Huh. Maybe I read the paper wrong.” He stared at me as he drank his coffee.
    I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. “That’s why Aunt Madge left the paper in the kitchen.” I picked up my muffin. “I gotta go. I’ll look for you again.”
    He said nothing as I turned to half jog back to Aunt Madge’s.
    I sat at the table and picked up the paper. “Police Investigate Suspicious Death of Prominent Resident.” The article was brief, noting that while she had cancer, Mrs. Riordan had looked and acted better in the last few weeks than she had in months.
    I scanned quickly, wishing not to see my name, and was of course disappointed. Though it appeared near the end of the article, I was referred to as the “woman who found the body, Jolie Gentil, of Steele Appraisals.” Oh well, they say even negative publicity is a good thing. Maybe Harry would get some new business. If anyone remembered me from eleventhth grade, they’d know I was back and what I was doing. Instantly, I felt as if I’d trodden on a grave, not that I really know what that feels like.
    There was also mention that Michael had been staying in the house, but that he was not home when I “discovered” the body. As if I’d been looking for buried treasure. When I reread the article, all it really said was that the cause of death was not yet determined, but suspicious. I couldn’t understand why the paper made such a big deal out of it; and on the front page, yet.
    I pushed it aside and tackled the rest of the blueberry muffin. Miss Piggy came out of Aunt Madge’s bedroom and stretched. “This is not for you,” I said. She immediately plopped on the floor and put her paws over her ears. This was a trick she had learned before coming to Aunt Madge, and it must have earned her doggie treats in her prior home, because she always removed her paws and wagged her tail expectantly.
    “You’re impossible.” I tossed her a piece of muffin.
    “Don’t do that,” Aunt Madge said as she came through the swinging kitchen door with a small sack of groceries.
    “Yes ma’am,” I said, immediately reduced to age twelve. I jumped up and opened the door to the fridge as she took a half-gallon of milk out of her bag.
    “Aunt Madge, I ran into Scoobie today…” I began.
    “Adam, dear, Adam.” She spoke absently as she took a small box of artificial sweeteners from her bag.
    “That’s it. I couldn’t…”
    The phone rang and I answered it, annoyed that my thought about Scoobie was interrupted. “Miss Gentle?” a man’s voice asked. Obviously not someone I knew