Read Online Mahjonged (An Alex Harris Mystery) by Elaine Macko - Free Book Online Page B

crime scene again. They also had my cell phone number so I saw no reason why I had to be there; the fact I hardly ever turned my cell on was something I kept to myself. I had answered enough questions last night to last me a lifetime and I didn’t have anything more to add.
    But that’s what I planned for tonight. Our big get together at my parent’s house would hopefully provide the key to why Penelope had been killed. I got lost in my thoughts when I heard a voice.
    “Can I help you?” a young woman asked me from behind the deli counter.
    I didn’t recognize her. This was one of the problems with Mr. Kruger selling out. A constant parade of young college students worked here and just when I got to recognize one they moved on and another showed up.
    “I’ll take a half pound of the liverwurst and the same of your hard salami. Oh, and can you give me about ten slices of the provolone? Thanks.”
    While she filled my order I wandered over to a giant basket packed with long loaves of crusty bread. The basket leaned up against a window facing Main Street and just as I pulled out a loaf, I saw two people walking on the other side of the street—Connie and Bert.
    I leaned against the wall and watched them. Connie didn’t look one bit sick to me but the thing that really bugged me was she and Bert were laughing. What could they possibly be laughing at? The man put a tracking device on her car for pity’s sake. And why was Bert not in jail, I wanted to know.
    “Can I help you with anything else?”
    “Huh? Oh, sorry. No, that’s all for now,” I said to the young woman.
    After picking up some tomatoes, fruit, and Lorna Dunes shortbread cookies, I paid the equivalent of our current national debt and left the store.
    I stood there on the sidewalk looking up and down the street but Connie and Bert were nowhere to be found.

 
     
     

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
     
     
    Like Dorothy said in the Wizard of Oz , there’s no place like home. And she was right. In this instance, the home was my parents’ house, not where I lived with John, and I instantly felt guilty thinking that. I knew I would come to love the house he so beautifully restored; at least I thought I would before last night. Now all I wanted to do was slap a for sale sign on it and move back to my little house. The thought of the one tiny closet and the one tiny bathroom in my house quickly put the idea out of my mind. But still. Would I ever love the murder house like I loved my tiny house or my parents’ house? Would the sight of Penelope bent over the card table with my cake knife sticking out of her back ever vanish from my memory? I didn’t think so. With a sigh I took the walkway up to my parents’ front door and let myself in.
    “Hello?” I called from the foyer as I took off my coat and placed it in the front hall closet. Despite the sunshine, the air felt cold and I had on a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. Black was my color of choice and I didn’t even want to think about what this said about me. The fact is most people look good in black and wearing black most of the time just made life easier. I was gradually easing in some browns and grays, but black usually won out. I softened it by wrapping homemade scarves around my neck though most of them had black somewhere in the pattern.
    “Alex. I wondered when you would show up,” my dad said, coming into the hallway and wrapping his arms around me.
    My dad, Harry Harris, was a kind soul with twinkling blue eyes. Everyone in my family was tall, except for Meme, and my dad was no exception. He kept in great shape having a membership to the same club I went to and taking every advantage of it.
    “What a terrible ordeal, honey. I’m so sorry about that woman last night. What was her name?”
    “Penelope,” I said into my dad’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
    “Out shopping for tonight. What’s going on here this evening? I wasn’t told anything, just to leave. I take it