Aretha Moon and the Dead Hairdresser: Aretha Moon Book 2 (Aretha Moon Mysteries) by Linda Ross (pdf to ebook reader txt) 📕

“I doubt Derek could even cut his steak by himself,” Jimmy said dryly.

“Speaking of cutting, do you think Kara’s habit of slicing up her lovers might have sent one of them over the edge?”

“It’s highly possible.  Maybe she went too far with one of them.”

Frankly, as soon as the knife came out I would consider it too far.  And I didn’t really understand what she got out of it.  A sense of power?  Personally, the only knife I was comfortable with was the one that spread peanut butter.  I thought about spreading peanut butter on Jimmy’s face and licking it off.

“What are you smiling about?” Jimmy asked.  “You’re not taking this seriously, are you?”

I blushed.  “Believe me, I’m taking it seriously.”  I cleared my throat.  “Did you notice that there were hardly any personal items in Kara’s house?”

Jimmy nodded.  “I’m thinking she might have moved in with one of her boyfriends.”

“That should help narrow down the suspects if you can find him.”  I took a sip of soda.  “The damage to the tree in her yard looked fresh too.”

“There was damage to the front passenger side of her car.”

“So she ran into the tree recently.”

“Looks that way.”

“Anyone home?” Eileen called cheerily from outside the door before she came in.  Anyone home? As if she hadn’t seen Jimmy’s car and mine parked outside.  I’d been annoyed by her sudden interest in Jimmy, but so far he hadn’t reciprocated.  I don’t know why that cheered me up since he seemed only mildly interested in me, our talks over dessert notwithstanding.

“I’ve got a pot of coffee on at the house if you want to come over,” Eileen said, beaming at Jimmy.

“I’d rather have tea,” I said, but apparently the invitation didn’t include me.

“I need to get going,” Jimmy said.  He stood and gave me a serious look.  “Call me if you decide to do any more investigating.  I mean it.  This could get nasty.”

He left, and Eileen looked at the pile of cookie boxes on the table.  “Maybe I could help with the investigation,” she ventured.

“The only thing you’re interested in investigating is Jimmy,” I said.

Eileen sighed and tossed her hair.  “I’ve already got a man,” she said.

“A new one?  Who?”

“Ralph McCready.”

I stared at her slack-jawed.  “The same Ralph McCready who represented Boyd in my divorce?  Are you kidding me?”

“You need to let it go, Aretha.  Ralph doesn’t harbor any bad feelings.”

“Well, I guess not.  I’m sure he got a tidy sum out of that piece of work.  And I ended up with my car.  And Ralph even tried to get that for Boyd.”

“It was his job.  Nothing personal.”

“It was personal to me.  I was just lucky that Gram left me this place after the divorce or I might be living in my car.”

“Some days you’re just impossible to talk to,” Eileen complained.  She frowned at the box sitting on the counter.  “And if you’d start working on that jigsaw puzzle maybe you wouldn’t eat so much, and then you wouldn’t gain weight.”  She flounced out the door and headed back to her own house, leaving me to glare at the puzzle box.  Eileen had brought it over a couple of weeks ago, insisting that if I would only work on the puzzle my hands would be too busy to stuff my face.  I was tempted to give it back to her and tell her that if she worked on it maybe it would help keep her hands off men.

I swear to God that sometimes I could punch her.  I mean, she’s my sister, and most of the time I love her, but she has a warped view of romance.  She collects men the way other women collect recipes.  She has radar where testosterone is concerned.  She’s an addict.  I swear to you she keeps a photo of each of her past boyfriends.  I’ve seen them in her bedroom.  You know how people used to get a sticker for their car in each state they visited?  Eileen does the same with men.  At least if she was interested in Ralph now, she might not try to add Jimmy to her collection.

With our ten year age difference, I was through with dolls by the time she was ready to play with them.  Still, I resented it when she sneaked my Ken doll out of my closet and ensconced him by the jewelry box in her room.  It wasn’t that I was particularly fond of Ken.  I mean he had better hair than I did and he was plastic, for God’s sake.  Most of the time my hair looked like I’d been jumping rope with a chainsaw in one hand.  But Ken represented something I was just beginning to appreciate, the male of the species.  I guess I thought that if I hung around Ken I might learn what it was that attracted men.  I know it’s dumb.  Here I thought it was some lofty ideal that men were in search of, and all they really cared about was a pretty face and a perky bosom, not necessarily in that order.

Jimmy had been different, but Jimmy and I knew each other on a pals basis.  Bosoms didn’t matter when you were shooting baskets in the driveway.

Thinking about Jimmy was kind of depressing, like when you want a cream-filled donut and the quick shop only has bagels.  And no cream cheese.  I let Nancy out, then cleaned up the pee when she came back in and squatted at the door.  “The rest room is outside,” I informed her, but I figured if she didn’t get that by now she never would.

I still had a good part of the day left, and I sat down with the Sunday comics and a Diet Coke.  I ate a