Poppy Harmon and the Pillow Talk Killer by Lee Hollis (most read book in the world .txt) 📕

billboard they crashed into with the slogan, LIKE A GOOD NEIGHBOR, STATE FARM IS THERE, and chuckled, “I sure hope they mean what they say.”

Poppy appreciated Matt’s attempt at a little levity in this traumatic situation as she looked around the wrecked car for her phone. Finding it on the floor of the passenger’s side, she carefully removed it and tried to call 911.

After receiving a Call Failed message, Poppy held the phone up in the air trying to pick up a signal. “I’m not getting any service.”

“Maybe we’ll have better luck up on the main road,” Matt said. As Poppy began trudging through the sand, Matt placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her. “Are you sure you’re not injured?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

“Bruised and scraped, same as last time, but otherwise fine,” Matt said.

Once they clambered up the incline to the main road, Matt spotted a big SUV packed with high school kids speeding toward them. He jogged out in the middle of the road to wave them down, but the driver just blared his horn and swerved around him, music blasting from the radio, the other kids laughing.

Poppy glanced down at her phone.

She only had one bar of service, but tried calling 911 again. She waited a few moments, hoping for success, but then got another Call Failed message.

She looked back up in time to see Matt practically hurling himself in front of another oncoming car, this one a Mini Cooper with a woman in her seventies behind the wheel. Panicked, the woman nearly sped off the road herself in order to avoid hitting him, but managed to stop in the emergency lane. Trying not to scare the poor woman too much, Matt approached the car slowly, hands in the air so she wouldn’t think he had some kind of weapon and was going to rob her, shouting at her that he just needed help calling a tow truck. The woman had to adjust her hearing aid a few times, but once that was done successfully, she was more than willing to help in the crisis. She even had a bottle of water in her car for Poppy and Matt to share while they waited, in addition to a working phone she lent to Poppy so she could finally call the police.

Poppy tried reaching Detective Jordan, but was told he was out of the office, and so she left him a detailed message recounting what had transpired after finding Byron Savage and paying him a visit.

Forty-five minutes later, a tow truck arrived and the cigar-chomping, sixty-something, grizzled driver who introduced himself as Mack went to work lifting what was left of the Prius onto the flatbed of his truck, while eyeing Poppy with prurient interest. She was so grateful he was here helping them, however, she did not bother to shut him down and call him out for his lewd looks and lecherous winks and gestures. Still, when it came time for them to climb into the front of his big rig, Poppy made sure Matt sat in the middle so she would not be subjected to Mack’s wandering hands.

Mack drove them to the nearest mechanic, whom he’d called earlier and given a heads-up that they were on their way. The mechanic, a sweet-looking, older Mexican man, cleaned the grease off his fingers with a gray rag, and once the tow truck rolled to a stop outside his garage, circled around to inspect the damage to the Prius.

Poppy and Matt hopped out of the truck to join the mechanic, who introduced himself as Julio.

“How much time will you need to give us an estimate on repairs so I can file a claim with the insurance company?” Matt asked the mechanic.

“I can tell you right now,” Julio said flatly. “Won’t cost nothing.”

Matt blinked at him. “Nothing? But there has to be at least five, six thousand dollars—”

“Your car’s totaled. There’s no fixing it.”

“Oh . . .” Matt groaned.

Mack slid up next to Poppy, who was focused on her phone, which finally had a full five bars, and pressed a piece of paper in her free hand. She reared back, startled.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, just wanted to make sure you had my number in case you ever want to give me a call,” Mack said with a wanton grin.

“Whatever for?” Poppy asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Come on, I noticed how you looked at me when I drove you and your friend here. . . .”

He rested a beefy hand on her backside and she reached around and grabbed his thumb and twisted it back, threatening to break it. He yelped in pain.

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but you are wildly mistaken if you think—”

A call came in on Poppy’s phone.

She glanced at the screen.

It was Detective Jordan returning her call.

She pointed an admonishing finger at Mack. “You’re lucky I have to take this. Now, if you know what’s good for you, you will keep your distance.”

Mack, chastened, nodded and slowly began backing away.

Poppy wheeled away from him and put her phone to her ear. “Hello, Detective Jordan.”

“How are you doing, Poppy?”

“I’ve had better days. Did you listen to my message?”

“Yes, I headed straight for Byron Savage’s house the minute I got it, but I’m sorry to report he’s no longer there. In fact, it looks like he left in a hurry.”

“And his brother?”

“No sign of him or his buddies he corralled to run you off the road. They’re probably off the grid now, lying low somewhere until things cool down.”

“Did you put out an APB?”

“Already done.”

“Thank you.”

There was a brief pause before Detective Jordan spoke again. “Tell me, Poppy, what did you do to set this Axel guy off?”

“Besides accidentally adding a few dents to his Harley, he thought we were trying to pin Danika Delgado’s murder on his little brother, but after talking to Byron, I’m not so sure he’s the one who—”

Detective Jordan interrupted her. “If I ask you again