Read Online Murder of a Sweet Old Lady by Denise Swanson - Free Book Online

reluctantly got out of the car. They’d been fighting a lot lately. Her head was pounding and she was soaked in sweat. “Gee, looks like you didn’t get my messages. Sorry. I hope you didn’t have to wait too long.”
    Simon, a thunderous expression on his face, stood between her and the house. “That’s it? Everything is supposed to be all right just because you say you’re sorry? Where have you been all afternoon?”
    “To hell. Care to join me next time?” Skye brushed past him, unlocked the door, and slipped through, letting it swing shut in his face.
    He caught it before it closed and followed her inside.
    She stopped on the threshold of her bedroom, turned, and crossed her arms. “Do you mind? I’m going to take a shower.”
    Frowning, Simon took a step back and Skye shut the door.
    She stood under the showerhead, letting the hot water knead her tense muscles. When her fingers started to wrinkle, she reluctantly turned off the spray and toweled dry. She sat at the bathroom’s built-in dressing table and worked a wide-toothed comb through her tangled curls. I shouldn’t have been so short with Simon. She smoothed lotion over her face and throat. He was just concerned. It was my fault for not getting in touch with him earlier.
    After putting on a pair of denim shorts and a plain white T-shirt, Skye hesitantly opened the bedroom door. Simon was gone. She felt a heaviness in her chest. Why had she treated him so badly? Why weren’t they getting along anymore?
    Angry at herself, and upset from the last twenty-four hours, Skye put a Pam Tillis CD on the player and lay on the sofa. She fell asleep to the beginning strains of “Mi Vida Loca.”
     
    The doorbell’s persistent ringing woke Skye. She wasn’t sure of the time but it was dark outside.
    A shiver ran up her spine. What if it was Hap Doozier or Gus Yoder’s father?
    She grabbed her baseball bat and went to the door. Looking through the peephole, all she could see was flowers.
    “Who is it?” She raised her voice to be heard through the wood.
    “It’s me. Simon.”
    Skye unlocked the door and held it open. Simon handed her a vase filled with roses. Their scent was intoxicating and she buried her face in the velvety petals.
    While she was appreciating the flowers, Simon had returned to his car. Now he was back, carrying brown bags and a bottle of wine.
    He set the packages on the kitchen table, took the vase from Skye’s arms, and placed it on the counter. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt today.” He held her hands and looked into her eyes. “Your relatives have been giving me a hard time about your grandmother’s autopsy. And then after your tires were slashed, when you weren’t here I was worried.”
    Skye snuggled into his arms and laid her head on his chest. “It was my fault. Lately I’ve been mean to everyone. I’m sorry. I did try to reach you.”
    He stopped her with a finger on her lips. “I know. I finally checked my messages. I had quit listening to them this morning after the fourth time your Uncle Dante beeped me.”
    She nodded sympathetically. “When I think about dying, one of the things that really scares me is that I’ll be surrounded by my family in heaven. I’ll be trapped in eternity with people I don’t even want to spend Thanksgiving with.”
    Simon smiled and hugged her. “You have a really twisted sense of humor.”
    Skye ignored his comment and went on with her train of thought. “My day was horrible, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Can you believe I had to go into school the day after my grandmother died?” She traced his jaw with her finger.
    Simon turned his face and captured her finger with his lips.
    Skye’s pulse quickened. If I don’t stop now, I may not be able to later, and I’m not ready for this. “Simon, it’s been wonderful dating you these past nine months, and I’m very attracted to you, but I’m just not ready for an intimate relationship.” She paused and looked into his