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

“Because it’s Monday.”  Thelma looked at me as though I was crazy.  “On Monday,” I said, “Lorenzo always gets a sub for lunch.  A sub with four different kinds of meat, two kinds of cheese, hot peppers, onions, banana peppers and cucumbers.”

Thelma looked at me blankly.

I sighed.  “About an hour after lunch it’s like a toxic waste dump in his office.  None of us go near him.”

Thelma gave a humorless laugh.  “Is this some office urban legend?”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Right.  I’ll meet you at the car.”  She headed for Lorenzo’s office, and I saw JoAnn and Marybeth look up in alarm from their computers.  Both got up and scurried toward the rest room.  Carl was snickering.

I went outside and waited.  Less than five minutes later Thelma came out, and I swear her eyes were watering.  “Oh, dear Lord,” she said.

“I told you.”

“I don’t think the fumes at the gates of Hell could be that bad.  It was like a beauty shop that’s offering free perms.”

“Come on,” I said, taking her arm.  “Let’s get you as far away as we can.  You’ve never lived with a man, have you?”

Poor Thelma shook her head.  “I joined the convent while my brother was still young.  And our dad had died years before.  I had no idea a man could smell like that.”

Thelma had regained her composure by the time we turned off Highway 79 and passed Kara’s house.  I slowed down as we came to the drive to the farmer’s house.  The house was a two-story white frame traditional farmhouse, a wrap-around porch circling the front like a belt at a fat man’s waist.  The house had seen better days, and one of the porch posts was missing, leaving the roof to sag in architectural depression.  It made the house look like it was frowning.

What gravel remained on the drive crunched under our feet as we picked our way to the front door.  Some doors are inviting and some are formal and stand-offish.  This one looked like it had gone ten rounds with a crowbar and lost.  I peered around the side and saw a big greenhouse in the back yard.

“What was his name again?” I asked Thelma.  She’d tracked it down through a friend in the county clerk’s office.

“Ralph Pierce.  He’s sixty-seven.  Unmarried.”

I rapped on the door, which wobbled under my fist.  “Mr. Pierce, could my friend and I have a quick word with you?”

There was a moment’s silence, and then a man’s voice shouted from inside, “Go away!  I’m not talkin’ to nobody!  I already told the police that!”

“We’ll only take a few minutes,” I said.  “It’s about Kara’s murder.”

“I said get out!  Get out before I send Puddin’ after you.”

Thelma and I looked at each other.  Puddin’?

“Is he threatening us with dessert?” I asked.

“Uh-oh,” Thelma said.  “Do you think that might be Puddin’?”

She pointed to the field to the side of the house, and I stepped back to look around her.  I could see something moving toward the house from the end of the field, and it was picking up speed as it ran.

“What is that?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but it’s big.”

“And fast.”

“And maybe hungry.”

“I guess this isn’t a good time, Mr. Pierce,” I said to the door, and Thelma and I hustled to the car.  By the time we were backing out of the drive, Puddin’ had gotten close enough that we could see he was a Doberman pincer, a big Doberman pincer.

“Aren’t they guard dogs?” Thelma asked.

“I think so.  I guess Mr. Pierce thinks highly of his crops.”

“Yeah,” Thelma said, glancing back at the house.  “Can you get us out of here a little faster?”

By the time we were back on the county road and headed to town I could see Puddin’ in the rear view mirror, standing at the end of his driveway.

“I think he’s part horse,” I said.

“I didn’t even know that dogs came in that size.”

Back in the office, we sat down at my desk to rethink our strategy for avoiding the Hound from Hell.

“What we need is a diversion,” I said.

“What we need is a tranquilizer gun that will take down an elephant,” Thelma said.

“Mr. Pierce isn’t going to talk to us if we tranquilize his dog.  We need to win Puddin’ over to our side.”

Thelma snorted.  “Not likely.  If we go back there we’re going to be in the remake of Cujo.”

“Not if we have the right bait.”

“Aretha, what on earth are you talking about?”

“We’re going back with something that will appeal to Puddin’ and Mr. Pierce.  Something they can’t resist.”

“Like two hundred pounds of human flesh?  Are you planning on throwing Lorenzo to them?”

“No, he smells too bad.  I have something better in mind.”

CHAPTER SIX

 

Thelma and I headed back to the Pierce house the next day around lunch time.

“I don’t know about this,” Thelma said.  “I’m afraid one of us is going to lose a leg to the Hound of the Baskervilles.”

“Trust me.”

“Your only dog experience is with an aging poodle.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” I said.

I sounded confident, but I wasn’t positive this would work.  I thought I could take care of Puddin’, but Mr. Pierce might prove more difficult.  I was hoping I had that contingency covered.  Thelma was holding the apple pie I’d picked up that morning.

I pulled into the driveway as slowly as I could so as not to make too much noise on the gravel.  But dogs have excellent hearing, and big dogs apparently have super hearing.  Puddin’ came from behind the house, ears pricked forward.  As soon as he saw the car he began barking, and if I could speak canine I would swear he was threatening to tear us limb from limb and