Read Online The Perfect Coed (Oak Grove Mysteries Book 1) by Judy Alter - Free Book Online
Authors: Judy Alter
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to shake her head and make a noise that sounded like “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Next door, where she lived, wasn’t really that close, but Mrs. Whitley made it seem like the distance between their houses was feet, not yards.
Susan drew herself together. “I’m fine, thanks, Mrs. Whitley. It was a snake… a plain old garden snake, but it scared me for a minute.”
Mrs. Whitley chuckled. “Many times I’ve been scared by those critters. Well, I’m glad you’re all right.” She turned back down the driveway, and Susan called after her, “Thanks for checking.”
It was comforting to know that Mrs. Whitley was aware of what went on at her house. But Susan realized she was probably also aware of the nights that Jake didn’t go home till morning.
Susan used her foot to shove the box away from the door and with a gloved hand she put the lid back on it. Then she went inside and poured herself a finger of bourbon. Jake’s going to start wondering why his bourbon disappears so fast, she thought wryly. Then she realized that her books and papers were still outside, and to get them, she’d have to walk by that damn box again. She took another sip of bourbon, strode deliberately out the door, eyes avoiding the box, retrieved her belongings, and retreated inside. Then she sat on the couch and had a good cry.
* * *
Susan waited in the growing dusk for Jake, who was later than usual. Any other night, she would have been hungry and hoping he’d bring takeout something, anything. Tonight, she had no appetite. The ringing of the phone startled her, and she almost didn’t answer. But then she picked it up and uttered a curt, “Susan Hogan.”
“Susan? It’s Aunt Jenny. How are you, dear? You don’t sound well at all.” She listened to reassurances that Susan was fine and busy and then said, “I’m coming to see you. You need me right now.”
Jenny Hogan was Susan’s seventy-something-year-old aunt. Susan would have told anyone—including Aunt Jenny—that her aunt was the person she most loved in the world. Susan’s parents had divorced when she was three, and then her mother, frightened by the responsibility of a child and the prospect of being alone, took a successful dose of sleeping pills. Susan’s father, on hearing the news, had thrown Susan’s clothes in a suitcase, grabbed her and the suitcase, and taken the whole kit and caboodle to his sister Jenny, the maiden schoolteacher who lived in Wichita Falls. Thereafter, he appeared at Christmas with toy trains that bored Susan and on her birthday with gifts equally inappropriate. Ten years later, he died himself, worn out by drink and gambling and—Aunt Jenny never said the word, but Susan knew—womanizing.
Aunt Jenny, fluttery, distracted, loving beyond measure, had been Susan’s world.
“Aunt Jenny, I’d love to see you. But there’s a lot going on right now. Maybe Christmas?”
“No, Susan, I read the newspaper, and I know you’re as good as accused of murder. I need to be there with you. And, besides, I haven’t met this man—what’s his name? Jake?”
Susan was at a loss. “Uh, yeah, Jake. But Aunt Jenny I really can’t be a good hostess right now.”
“Yes, yes, dear, I understand, and I won’t be any trouble. I’ll be there in time to cook Sunday supper for you.”
“What time is your plane? Jake and I will come get you.”
“Plane? Oh, no, I’ll drive. Far too much trouble to get to the airport, go through all that check-in security. I can be there faster if I drive. Yes, dear, I know how to find Oak Grove. Just go to Fort Worth and turn southwest—what’s the road again? I bet I can even find your house. Susan, stop worrying so much about things. That’s why I have to be there to help you.”
“Aunt Jenny, I love you. But it worries me to have you drive all this way. I’ll be all right. Really. Jake will see to it.” Well, she hoped he would.
“Yes, Susan dear, I love you too. I’ll see you Sunday. And I can’t wait to
Susan drew herself together. “I’m fine, thanks, Mrs. Whitley. It was a snake… a plain old garden snake, but it scared me for a minute.”
Mrs. Whitley chuckled. “Many times I’ve been scared by those critters. Well, I’m glad you’re all right.” She turned back down the driveway, and Susan called after her, “Thanks for checking.”
It was comforting to know that Mrs. Whitley was aware of what went on at her house. But Susan realized she was probably also aware of the nights that Jake didn’t go home till morning.
Susan used her foot to shove the box away from the door and with a gloved hand she put the lid back on it. Then she went inside and poured herself a finger of bourbon. Jake’s going to start wondering why his bourbon disappears so fast, she thought wryly. Then she realized that her books and papers were still outside, and to get them, she’d have to walk by that damn box again. She took another sip of bourbon, strode deliberately out the door, eyes avoiding the box, retrieved her belongings, and retreated inside. Then she sat on the couch and had a good cry.
* * *
Susan waited in the growing dusk for Jake, who was later than usual. Any other night, she would have been hungry and hoping he’d bring takeout something, anything. Tonight, she had no appetite. The ringing of the phone startled her, and she almost didn’t answer. But then she picked it up and uttered a curt, “Susan Hogan.”
“Susan? It’s Aunt Jenny. How are you, dear? You don’t sound well at all.” She listened to reassurances that Susan was fine and busy and then said, “I’m coming to see you. You need me right now.”
Jenny Hogan was Susan’s seventy-something-year-old aunt. Susan would have told anyone—including Aunt Jenny—that her aunt was the person she most loved in the world. Susan’s parents had divorced when she was three, and then her mother, frightened by the responsibility of a child and the prospect of being alone, took a successful dose of sleeping pills. Susan’s father, on hearing the news, had thrown Susan’s clothes in a suitcase, grabbed her and the suitcase, and taken the whole kit and caboodle to his sister Jenny, the maiden schoolteacher who lived in Wichita Falls. Thereafter, he appeared at Christmas with toy trains that bored Susan and on her birthday with gifts equally inappropriate. Ten years later, he died himself, worn out by drink and gambling and—Aunt Jenny never said the word, but Susan knew—womanizing.
Aunt Jenny, fluttery, distracted, loving beyond measure, had been Susan’s world.
“Aunt Jenny, I’d love to see you. But there’s a lot going on right now. Maybe Christmas?”
“No, Susan, I read the newspaper, and I know you’re as good as accused of murder. I need to be there with you. And, besides, I haven’t met this man—what’s his name? Jake?”
Susan was at a loss. “Uh, yeah, Jake. But Aunt Jenny I really can’t be a good hostess right now.”
“Yes, yes, dear, I understand, and I won’t be any trouble. I’ll be there in time to cook Sunday supper for you.”
“What time is your plane? Jake and I will come get you.”
“Plane? Oh, no, I’ll drive. Far too much trouble to get to the airport, go through all that check-in security. I can be there faster if I drive. Yes, dear, I know how to find Oak Grove. Just go to Fort Worth and turn southwest—what’s the road again? I bet I can even find your house. Susan, stop worrying so much about things. That’s why I have to be there to help you.”
“Aunt Jenny, I love you. But it worries me to have you drive all this way. I’ll be all right. Really. Jake will see to it.” Well, she hoped he would.
“Yes, Susan dear, I love you too. I’ll see you Sunday. And I can’t wait to
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