But Not For Lust by BJ Bourg (comprehension books .txt) 📕

The waitress called my number and interrupted my thoughts. I retrieved the food and made my way out onto the quiet street. I stopped just outside the door—instinctively moving to one side—and enjoyed the cool stillness of the day for a few moments. Soon, it would be Mardi Gras and our town would be bustling with activity. A couple of months afterward, summer would be here again, and we would be in for nonstop action.

“I sure hope you’re back by then,” I said out loud, thinking of Amy. “I don’t know what I’ll do without your help.”

“What’s wrong with you that you’ve gone to wandering the streets and talking to yourself?” asked a familiar voice from behind me. I turned to see the owner of Granny’s Oven standing just outside the door to Bad Loup Burgers. “Did that beautiful wife of yours come to her senses and leave you? Is that why you’re so lost?”

I laughed. “Hey, Granny, what’s up?”

She smiled and her face lit up. She stepped forward and gave me a hug. She smelled like wedding cake frosting and my mouth watered.

“Do you have any brownies left?” I asked wistfully.

“You know those things fly out the store as soon as I get a batch done.” The wind picked up a little, and she gave her gray hair a pat. “I’ll put a whole tray aside for you the next time I bake some.”

“I heard you might be selling your bakery,” I said conversationally. “I know someone who might be interested.”

“Yeah, Tiffany Edwards,” she said with a nod. “I know her mom. I knew her dad. I remember Tiffany when she was a little girl. I think it’ll all work out for her. She’s going through the banks right now, trying to get the loan. You know how that can be. They want to know that if you do have children, they’ll be able to take them from you and sell them if you don’t pay the mortgage.”

I laughed, but stopped when the wrinkles on her brow deepened.

“Is it true about Carol?” she asked in a low voice. “Did they find her dead?”

I frowned and nodded. “We can’t find Ty.”

“Did you look in the woods behind Orange Way? A few weeks ago Carol came in the bakery and she told me that Ty has a camp back there. It’s nothing more than a sleeping bag and a fire pit, but she said he’s been spending a lot of time out there lately.”

I thanked her for the information.

“You don’t think Ty hurt his mom, do you?”

I hesitated. “It would be unlike him to do so, is what I believe.”

“I guarantee you he didn’t hurt his mom. He loved his mom more than anything. He would never lift a finger to her in anger.”

I wanted to tell her that someone had definitely lifted a finger to Mrs. Richardson, and, as of right now, Ty was one of our only possible suspects. I also wanted to tell her that drugs could alter a person’s normal behavior, but I didn’t tell her either of those things. I was still holding out hope that someone other than Ty had been in that shed and had locked the door on the way out. If not, and if that print belonged to him, then the suspicion would fall squarely on his shoulders.

“I’ll check the woods,” I said, lifting my bag of food in salute. “Please let me know if you hear anything else.”

“Oh, I will,” she said. “You can bet that I will.”

  CHAPTER 14

I took a few bites of my burger on the drive to Orange Way, but put the rest away when I stopped at the end of the street and exited the vehicle. Some kid was playing in the yard of the last house on the right, and I gave him a nod. He took one look at my gun and fled like I’d pointed it at him.

Laughing, I studied the land before me. A gate blocked the entrance to a dirt road that was overgrown with underbrush. There was a faint path down the middle of the road, and it was obvious the neighborhood kids ignored the No Trespassing signs that were prominently displayed on the wooden posts on either side of the gate.

Movement from my right caught my eye and I turned to see a red-haired woman standing on the front porch of that last house. The young boy was partially hidden behind her and he was peeking at me from between her legs. I could see enough of him to see that his hair was just as bright as his mom’s and he had just as many freckles.

I waved and walked closer. As though the hair and freckles weren’t enough, she and the boy wore matching pajamas. I didn’t want to look at my watch and give them the idea that I was passing judgment, because I wasn’t. I, myself, would like to be sitting home in my pajamas right about now and I didn’t care what time of the day it was. The only problem for me was that I didn’t wear pajamas.

“Do you know who owns the land back here?” I asked when I got closer. I remembered coming to this house yesterday during my canvass of the neighborhood. No one had been home then.

The woman—she couldn’t have been more than twenty-four—wrapped her arms around her chest and shook her head. “No, sir, but my landlord might. Want me to call her?”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that.”

The woman turned and almost tripped on the little boy.

“Get out of my feet, Blue,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The boy lifted an arm to his face to hide it and disappeared inside with his mom. When they returned a few minutes later, the woman