Read Online Design on a Crime by Ginny Aiken - Free Book Online

"And then some."
    Now that I could see again, I noticed the others had come
around to the front garden. They too were on the way to recovery. "If you don't mind, I'm going to open the windows.
We need to air the house if you want to sleep tonight."
    Gussie smiled in spite of her red nose and swollen eyes.
"Go ahead. I'm fine. Besides, everyone needs a little shakeup now and then."
    "A little shake-up..." I shook my head, not sure I needed
any more shake-up, with all that had happened in the last
few days. I ran from room to room and opened the many
windows.
    A short while later, after Bella's efforts on my behalf had
amused the neighbors, Dad and I went home. The evening
was classic Pacific Northwest: cool, breezy, enjoyable. Wilmont
being as small as Seattle is huge, we'd walked to the Stoker
home, and now I was glad. The exercise did wonders to soothe
my ruffled nerves, especially after the pepper-spray attack.
    "Oh, for goodness' sake," Dad grumbled as we approached
the driveway to the manse. "Why can't that girl understand?
How many times do I have to tell her she shouldn't drop the
newspaper in the lawn because most of the time it's wet in
our part of the world and leftover rain ruins newspapers?"
    Dad's battle of wills with the determined teen, a newer
member of his church's youth group, made me smile. In my
opinion, the odds in this war are on the girl. Something about
the twinkle in her eye and the dry newspaper on our back
step clued me in.
    Dad too, even though he'll never admit it. He loves to
tease Sandy Appleton as much as she loves to tease him. The size of her tip on collection day at the end of every month
proves it.

    "I'll get it, Dad. Just go on in."
    He grinned. "Thanks. I'll go around back."
    I laughed. He'll never say a word about the dry paper in
the recycling bin tomorrow morning, and neither will I. It was
a nutty deal, but Sandy has made a terrific turnaround since
she's taken up the paper route. Her school's truancy officer
reports that she hasn't missed a single day of class, and her
grandmother Ina, a member of the missionary society, says
the rough crowd hasn't been around for a while.
    Dad's visits to Ina and Sandy, apple muffins in hand, have
become weekly events. So has Sandy's presence in church
on Sundays.
    I don't get it, but if Sandy buys the God deal, what can I
say?
    I bent and gathered the soggy wad of paper and, without
meaning to, noticed the headlines. Marge's murder led the
day's news. A crime of that magnitude didn't often happen in
Wilmont. Then a line from the article jumped out at me-"Be-
cause such a vast fortune is involved, the police have a strong
suspect, and the lead investigator assures this reporter that
an arrest is imminent."
    The pepper spray had nothing on this for inciting an extreme physical response. Every part of me froze. Except for
my knees. They seemed to melt. It took all my energy to walk
to the porch. I'd barely reached it when the front door opened
and Dad came out, newspaper in hand.
    "Honey ... ?"
    I nodded, unable to speak.

    Dad's whispered prayer and his comforting arm reached
me at the same time. The arm I could accept; the prayer ...
well, let's just say I wanted no part of a God who had left me
high and dry again.
    We walked into the cozy living room, and as I sat in Mom's
rocker, the phone rang. Dad picked it up. After a greeting
and a couple of additional words, he held it out. "Sounds
official."
    I winced but took it anyway. "Hello?"
    "Good evening, Ms. Farrell. It's Sam Harris."
    "Yes?"
    "Um ... it's come to my notice that you might be in some
trouble here."
    When I didn't respond, he ummed and aahed some more.
Then he cleared his throat. "What I mean to say is ... well,
you're going to need legal representation, and since I'm already
the attorney of record for Mrs. Norwalk's affairs, it would make
things easier if you retained me for the criminal matter."
    The gall of the man stunned me