A Lonely Way to Die: A Utah O'Brien Mystery Novel (Minnesota Mysteries Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

says he never met Carol Kramer, either. I saw Sonje sitting with Carol at the diner yesterday, when I took Mort’s eggs over to Angie. They were both happy when I saw them, but Mort says it looks like Sonje’s death might have been a suicide.”
    “She was talking to Carol Kramer?” Josie said. Little lines formed between her eyebrows as she frowned. “Oh, my,” she said.
    I hiked the afghan up a little higher, trying to warm up. “What he said about Mildred not being his real grandmother—it almost makes sense, in a way. Mildred has all those photos of Mark’s two kids stuck all over the wall behind her desk at City Hall, and you can’t walk by without having to look at the newest ones. But she doesn’t have any pictures of Gabe or Grace.”
    “I’ve told her a dozen times that she should stop bragging about Mark’s kids all the time,” Josie said. “After Emma’s miscarriage, and the IVF treatments not working, and the cost. And her husband leaving …”
    I must have looked a little shocked. Josie is famous for her refusal to gossip. When she still worked at the diner, people said incredibly private things to each other that she couldn’t help but overhear—but she never shared them with anyone. Not even me.
    Her rule against gossip especially applies when someone tells her a secret on purpose, which they do far more often than she would like.
    She saw the look on my face and interpreted it correctly. “Well,” she said, “this is different, because somebody died.”
    The shower turned off. In less than a minute, Gabe came out of the bathroom wearing Sam’s big purple sweatshirt and my sweatpants. The elastic around the ankles kept the pants from dragging on the floor.
    I threw the afghan off my legs, walked around the big table, and poured Gabe a mug of hot chocolate. He sat down on the wooden chair at the end of the table and I set his mug in front of him. Jocko came and sat next to him, with his chin on Gabe’s thigh.
    Josie was looking intently at Gabe, with her head cocked slightly to the side.
    “OK,” I said. “My turn in the shower.”

 
     
    FOUR
     
     
    When I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in my old green chenille bathrobe, I went out to the front porch and retrieved our smelly clothes. I brought them inside, holding them out at arm’s length, and threw them in the washing machine. I added vinegar and soap. I didn’t know if it would work or not, but it was worth a try. My yellow coat was practically brand new.
    I went back in the kitchen and washed my hands with dish soap at the kitchen sink. Gabe was working on his second mug of hot chocolate.
    When the bell over the front door tinkled, Molly got up and padded to the door that leads to the museum. Sam was home. He came into the kitchen and gave Molly’s ears a good rub. He’s a big guy, six foot four, and solid. I went to school with him, but he was several grades ahead of me. Now, at fifty-two, there’s a few white strands in his black hair, which he wears pulled back in a long thin braid.
    Molly went back to the couch. Sam walked further into the room, and stopped. I gave him a grim smile. He brushed snow off his jacket, and looked at Josie, and the baby. He shook his head, slowly, taking it in.
    I introduced Sam to the boy. They shook hands.
    Sam said, “It looks like you got some bad news.”
    Gabe looked down at the fur on Jocko’s neck and nodded.
    “It’s a hard thing to hear,” Sam said. “I’m really sorry.”
    Gabe nodded again, and brushed a tear from his cheek, still not looking up.
    Sam said, “I’m going to make breakfast. Josie, you want some?”
    “No thank you, dear. I ate at the diner.”
    “I do,” I said. “We still have bacon, and I’d really love pancakes.”
    He rummaged in the fridge for a minute and came up with the supplies.
    I sat down on a chair near Gabe. “Where’s your dad?” I asked.
    “Amsterdam.”
    That was unexpected. “All the time?”
    “No, he’s doing a