Read Online Mom Zone Mysteries 02 Staying Home Is a Killer by Sara Rosett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sara Rosett
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery Fiction, Large Type Books, Murder - Investigation, Businesswomen, Stay-at-home mothers, Women - Crimes against, Military Bases, Military spouses, Air Force spouses
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Temporary Duty. I’d never understood the acronym. Why not just TD? Too easily confused with a touchdown in football? Did some committee tack on the y to baffle spouses and friends of military members? Mitch ticked the reasons off on his fingers, “To travel. You know, ‘join the military, see the world.’ Of course, the only problem with that idea is that military bases are the only part of ‘the world’ we usually get to see. Number two, to party. That’s Willy. For him, a few beers and everything’s a party. And number three, to make money, the per diem. That’s me, by the way, I go for the per diem.”
“You’d better either be in the money category or the travel category,” I said and refocused on the list. “Okay. After the crew passed us, we talked about the exhibit and she mentioned Clarissa Bedford was in her art appreciation class.” I summarized those two items.
I skipped down a few lines and wrote AM meeting at the Mansion. Bedford—10:30? Under that question I listed 11:00—Conversation at the squadron. 12:00—Called Marsali. Around noon—Mabel saw Penny on my porch. 12:34—Called and left a message for me. 1:00—Will finds Penny. A fresh wave of grief washed over me as I read over the list, a picture of the end of a life.
Mitch glanced at the clock. “Wow. Seven already. I’ve got to read. I’m flying tomorrow with Tommy.”
“Oh, Hetty Sullivan!” I tossed the pen down. “I forgot. I’ve got to meet her at Penny and Will’s house at seven-thirty.”
“Who?” Mitch asked. He pulled a three-inch-thick notebook from his pubs case and sat down at the table.
“She’s working on the exhibit and needs to pick up some drawings and photographs from Penny’s house. I said I’d let her in. I’d better run down there and make sure I can find everything. And that reminds me. Victor Roth never returned my call.” I shifted through the papers in the cubbyholes on my small secretary until I found the note with Hetty’s and Victor’s numbers. I dialed Victor’s number as I walked to the closet. He answered and I explained I was following up on Penny’s messages.
“That issue is taken care of,” he said and hung up.
“Well, you’re welcome,” I said as I stabbed the OFF button. “Not even a thank-you!” Victor Roth’s accent sounded a lot less appealing when he snapped at you.
Mitch hadn’t heard me. He hunched over the tiny text titled Engine Ground Operation.
I pulled on my coat and gloves. “Don’t fall asleep!” I called on my way out the door. If I had to read those monotonous pages of technical data, I’d be out in a few seconds.
Mitch looked up, waggled his eyebrows, and said, “Not without you.”
I clutched the collar of my coat together and scurried down the deserted street. With darkness descending around five-thirty, most people hurried home from work and holed up in their warm houses, a mini-hibernation until dawn and work forced them outside to unplug the extension cord transferring heat to their engine block and scrape the ice off their car windows. Besides the weak streetlights, the only light came from gold squares radiating out from the edges of closed curtains. There was no wind tonight, and my steps crunching through snowmelt crystals seemed to echo in the still street.
I turned where I estimated the Follettes’ narrow sidewalk would be and sank into the snow. Will hadn’t shoveled snow for a while. In the darkness on the porch, I fumbled with the keys and tried several times before I got the right one in the lock. I needed to leave the porch light on when I left.
After I clicked on a table lamp, I locked the front door and swished the curtains closed. I stood in the living room, shivering, reluctant to go into the rest of the house. The living room opened to the dining room and kitchen behind it. To the right of the dining room, a tiny hall connected two bedrooms with a bathroom between them. The house was cold and I wondered if Will had
“You’d better either be in the money category or the travel category,” I said and refocused on the list. “Okay. After the crew passed us, we talked about the exhibit and she mentioned Clarissa Bedford was in her art appreciation class.” I summarized those two items.
I skipped down a few lines and wrote AM meeting at the Mansion. Bedford—10:30? Under that question I listed 11:00—Conversation at the squadron. 12:00—Called Marsali. Around noon—Mabel saw Penny on my porch. 12:34—Called and left a message for me. 1:00—Will finds Penny. A fresh wave of grief washed over me as I read over the list, a picture of the end of a life.
Mitch glanced at the clock. “Wow. Seven already. I’ve got to read. I’m flying tomorrow with Tommy.”
“Oh, Hetty Sullivan!” I tossed the pen down. “I forgot. I’ve got to meet her at Penny and Will’s house at seven-thirty.”
“Who?” Mitch asked. He pulled a three-inch-thick notebook from his pubs case and sat down at the table.
“She’s working on the exhibit and needs to pick up some drawings and photographs from Penny’s house. I said I’d let her in. I’d better run down there and make sure I can find everything. And that reminds me. Victor Roth never returned my call.” I shifted through the papers in the cubbyholes on my small secretary until I found the note with Hetty’s and Victor’s numbers. I dialed Victor’s number as I walked to the closet. He answered and I explained I was following up on Penny’s messages.
“That issue is taken care of,” he said and hung up.
“Well, you’re welcome,” I said as I stabbed the OFF button. “Not even a thank-you!” Victor Roth’s accent sounded a lot less appealing when he snapped at you.
Mitch hadn’t heard me. He hunched over the tiny text titled Engine Ground Operation.
I pulled on my coat and gloves. “Don’t fall asleep!” I called on my way out the door. If I had to read those monotonous pages of technical data, I’d be out in a few seconds.
Mitch looked up, waggled his eyebrows, and said, “Not without you.”
I clutched the collar of my coat together and scurried down the deserted street. With darkness descending around five-thirty, most people hurried home from work and holed up in their warm houses, a mini-hibernation until dawn and work forced them outside to unplug the extension cord transferring heat to their engine block and scrape the ice off their car windows. Besides the weak streetlights, the only light came from gold squares radiating out from the edges of closed curtains. There was no wind tonight, and my steps crunching through snowmelt crystals seemed to echo in the still street.
I turned where I estimated the Follettes’ narrow sidewalk would be and sank into the snow. Will hadn’t shoveled snow for a while. In the darkness on the porch, I fumbled with the keys and tried several times before I got the right one in the lock. I needed to leave the porch light on when I left.
After I clicked on a table lamp, I locked the front door and swished the curtains closed. I stood in the living room, shivering, reluctant to go into the rest of the house. The living room opened to the dining room and kitchen behind it. To the right of the dining room, a tiny hall connected two bedrooms with a bathroom between them. The house was cold and I wondered if Will had
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