Read Online Murder in a Nice Neighborhood by Lora Roberts - Free Book Online Page A

tightened. “Ice, warm water—I’ll use them both.” She looked around the garden and sighed. “As a matter of fact, I am trying to cross some roses, and this is the time to break up the hips and germinate the seeds.” She looked at me consideringly. “I remember Bridget saying that you baby-sat and such. Do you do garden work, too?”
    “I garden, yes, mostly for food.” My community garden plot would have fit into her backyard ten or fifteen times and left room for a tennis court. There was a motley collection of outbuildings beyond the greenhouse. She must have had the biggest lot in the neighborhood.
    “Would you like to help me for a few days?” Claudia sounded a little hesitant. I guessed that she didn’t often ask for help of any kind. “I’d pay you, of course. And it’s just till I get back on my feet.”
    “That’s nice of you, Mrs. Kaplan—”
    “Claudia, please.”
    “Claudia. But I don’t know if I’ll have time. I’m kind of involved right now in a murder investigation.”
    “Murder!” She swung around on the bench, aiming that fourth-grade-teacher look at me again. “Tell me,” she commanded, “all about it.”
    I hesitated for a minute. Normally, I am not the kind of person who confides. But since I’d already told Bridget about the investigation and what the police were doing, there didn’t seem to be any reason not to tell Claudia, too. It made a long story, while the sun poked through the rose vines and tree branches and finally freed itself to shine directly into our eyes.
    The police interrogators had nothing on Claudia. She asked questions, and I answered them, compelled by the very enthusiasm of her inquiry. At last she was quiet, her hands folded on top of her cane and her chin resting on her hands.
    I let my fingers trail idly through the asters that crowded beside the bench, their fringed blue petals and golden centers making a heap of brightness. Claudia’s interest in the story had been different from Bridget’s. Bridget had been distressed for me, her friend; Claudia, I could see, regarded it in an intellectual light.
     “You should stay here,” she said at last, briskly. “Biddy was perfectly right, as usual; I do need someone to help me while my ankle is bad. I’ll pay you for the time you put into the garden—just a few hours a day will be enough. I’ll trade you room and board in return for you shopping and cooking—I don’t cook well under the best of circumstances. And you’ll have to tell me everything, mind you.”
    “I have,” I began, bewildered by this sudden settling of my affairs.
    “I mean, all the new stuff, as it happens. That Detective Drake has the brain of a codfish. Anyone can see you’re not guilty. He just needs a suspect, so he fastens on you.” She smiled at me with true warmth. “Actually, I’ve been a suspect of his in the past. It will be a pleasure to hand him the solution to his little problem long before he can come up with it.”
    Vagabonds have an instinct for traps. I didn’t believe Claudia meant to trap me, but staying with her, shopping, going to bed in her house—I had lived a hunter-gatherer existence too long for that.
    “I can’t impose on you so much,” I said, standing up. She struggled to rise, and I lent her a hand.
    “It would be no imposition,” she said, upright again. “I really need the help.”
    She didn’t look too good, leaning on her cane like some tottery grande dame. But she was sharp. She saw my hesitation and zoomed in on it.
    “Of course, if you won’t help me, I might be able to find some teenager to come in.” She sniffed. “I couldn’t trust them in the garden, though. This year I’m hoping for a really spectacular result from crossing Oklahoma with Sheer Bliss.”
    I had once worked at a commercial nursery. I had even had a small rose garden, before the necessity for taking up the vagabond life came along. Oklahoma was my favorite hybrid tea—its dark beauty and fabulous