Read Online Murder on Parade by Melanie Jackson - Free Book Online Page A

just uncomfortable with asking me something that forced an indirect acknowledgment of my gift, or if he was uneasy for some other reason. “I heard you were the one who took Herb to the hospital.”
    “Yes.” I waited, suddenly wishing that Blue was with me. Tom wasn’t being threatening, but we were alone in a wood and no one knew I was there.
    “Was there anything….  I mean, well….” Tom sighed and finished lamely. “Did he suffer?”
    I decided to be blunt.
    “I don’t know, Tom. He wasn’t thrashing around or screaming or someone would have noticed. But his asthma was bad and a heart attack can be painful.”
    “Asthma?” His red eyes were definitely worried. “But he had medication. And a thing to suck on if he had an attack.”
    “Yes. But I don’t think that the perfume on his coat and the empty rescue inhaler helped in the slightest.”
    Tom’s face was chapped and red from being out in the cold, but I swear he went white under all that winter weathering. He muttered something about ‘not meaning it’ and stumbled away.
    “Damn it,” I said, suspecting I was looking at worry and fear for himself and his wife, and not compassion for a man Tom didn’t particularly like, suffering in his final minutes.
    That didn’t necessarily mean guilt though. At some time or other I think all of us have wished someone dead. Few of us ever progress beyond hoping for a stray bolt of lightning to find our tormentors. Tom was a gentle man, at least by reputation. He might have had strong words with his brother-in-law and now be regretting them. I hoped that this was what it all meant.
    Mom called me just as I was leaving the farm and told me that she and Aunt Dot were done ladling on the tea and sympathy since Linda was there being a prop and mainstay, and that the memorial service would be held the next morning at ten. The coroner would not release the body, but Laurie wanted to go ahead and get the ceremony over with. Mom didn’t ask why the body was being held. She tries not to acknowledge ugly realities, but she knew that the body being held for more tests wasn’t a good thing. Mom complained about the dry cleaner being closed and then wanted to know if I was coming to the funeral and I said that I would have to ask the chief for time off.
    Did I want to go to another funeral? Of course not. But there was always a chance of learning something. And it was also just part of small town life. You have to take the rough with the smooth. This could be tough though, if I discovered anything during the service. Mom would not be happy if I pointed an official finger at Laurie Dillon. Of course, she wouldn’t be happy if the finger moved Linda Borders’ way either. The only one I could blame with impunity was Chelsea Towers. Maybe I should be looking more closely at her.
    I had traded in my electric cart for my own car since it was still too icy for my bike. My car started, but it was making unhappy wheezing noises. Perhaps it had caught pneumonia of the sparkplugs or something. Since machines tend to die around me, I decided to heed the warning and called my father.
    He and Alex were together doing something to spruce up Dad’s Facebook page— Dad had gone high tech after the Youtube thing crushed his political rival and Alex was helping him. I suggested that he stay to dinner and look at my poor car. Dad said it sounded like a good deal.
    A look at the sky told me that the clouds were closing in again, so low that they were snagging on the trees that ran along the western crest. Temperatures were dropping and it felt like we would either have snow or an ice fog. It might be time to break down and watch a weather report. Alex and I don’t watch a lot of the television shows that are part of the mainstream entertainment diet, especially the news. We prefer to read in the evening. But the weather could kill you and it happened locally, not just in big cities. We would watch it— at nine though. Not during