Read Online Make, Take, Murder by Joanna Campbell Slan - Free Book Online

mind. One, where did the severed limb come from? Two, who had custody or access? Three, why drag that thing to your store to dump it?”
    “Beats me. I expect we’ll know soon enough. The police were all over this.”
    Clancy’s eyes sparkled. “Will Detweiler get involved?”
    “I hope not. I’ve cut off all communication with him.”
    She raised an eyebrow at me.
    “What are my choices? He’s married. Until that changes, I’m begging for more heartbreak.”
    “Well, then, this should get your mind off him. It sure sounds like a mystery to me. I know you are busy around here, but this might be a welcome diversion.” She laughed. “Ouch. I’m sounding like a really sick puppy, but you know how I love mysteries and how boring my life is. In fact, I was thinking. Do you need any help over the holidays? I’d be happy to help out.”
    “I’m not sure we can afford you.”
    “Come on, Kiki. You know I’m offering gratis.”
    “I can’t ask that of you. That’s taking unfair advantage of a friend.”
    She turned sad eyes on me.
    Clancy could be Jackie Kennedy Onassis’s twin sister. From the arched eyebrows and brightly piercing eyes to her tasteful clothing choices. Today she wore a simple powder-puff pink cashmere v-neck sweater, a statement necklace, brown gabardine slacks, and crocodile loafers. Despite all that stunning wardrobe and personal charm, she threw off misery like a dog shakes off water. “My ex and his new bride invited both my kids on a ten-day Caribbean cruise over the holidays. Try to compete with sun, sand, and endless free-flowing liquid when your kids are young adults struggling to get by.”
    I said nothing. The thought of being entirely alone this time of year totally choked me up. I coughed to recover my powers of speech. She patted my back.
    “You know,” Clancy said, “loneliness is the most powerful emotion known to man. Or woman. I like my own company, I do. But to have children and miss them, to have loved and go to sleep each night by myself in a California King bed, well, it drains the soul of all energy, doesn’t it? I feel like an empty tin can being kicked down the highway of life.”
    With that, I hugged her. Clancy’s a bit stiff, but after a second, she melted. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m not asking for that.”
    “Come help us. We sure could use the extra pair of hands. Bring your crochet, and if you get bored, you can high tail it to the backroom. Think you can stand Bama? I might have to check with her first, before I give you an official okay.”
    “When I taught middle school, I put up with hormonal teens, overly involved parents, and other teachers who were totally bonkers, as well as school administrators with only one clear goal in life: making other people miserable. I think I can handle Miss Cold Shoulder.”

I laughed. We sneaked back to the stockroom where she could examine my crocheting. “You’re coming along. Remember to trust the yarn and the hook. Your work is a bit too tight, and that comes from worrying your piece will slide off.”
    I nodded. Clancy hit the proverbial nail on the head. My hands ached from clenching the yarn tightly. I worried my projects would slip from the hook and unravel at any juncture. “At this rate I’ll never finish the scarves I plan to give as gifts.”
    She grinned. “I can help with that, too. Now show me where you found that piece of shin. I’m curious.”
    Our other Monday night croppers showed up one by one, moving past the last of the media. Once inside they dispensed hugs and holiday greetings. Of course they wanted to know what happened to draw the attention of the news trucks, but Bama quickly brushed the questions aside with, “It’s no big deal. Just something Kiki found in our garbage. We’re confident it’s a prank.”
    Most of the women were our regulars; we’d been through a lot together. While my gross discovery caused a few nervous glances, they were more interested in their crafting