Leave No Stone Unturned (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

is equipped
     with a roof rack, running boards, taillight covers, chrome grip handles, brush guard
     with lights, roll bar with lights, and of course, a spare tire cover with a painting
     of Tweety Bird bending over and mooning the vehicle behind me. To complete the package,
     it sports off-road tires the size of those you'd see on an earthmover or a Caterpillar
     D9. This vehicle had never been off the pavement, nor did I expect it ever would be,
     but a Jeep cries out for oversized tires just so it won't look wimpy like a Ford Taurus
     or a Mercury Sable.
    I sat down in the waiting room and sifted through fourteen issues of Car and Driver while I drank three cups of vending machine coffee that looked thicker than the motor
     oil Kenny was draining out of my Jeep. I glanced at my watch and noticed that exactly
     seven minutes had passed since I turned the keys over to the mechanic.
    I walked to the pay phone and called Wendy to come pick me up. She wasn't scheduled
     to begin her new job at the county coroner's office for two more weeks. I decided
     to bite the bullet and get round two of the inquisition over.
    Wendy was in high spirits when she picked me up. As we headed back toward her neighborhood,
     she told me Clay had been offered a detective position with the KCK Homicide Division.
     It was the position he'd most wanted to land when he'd distributed his resume and
     applications, Wendy declared, with a great deal of pride evident in her voice.
    "He's so glad he's going to work with the Kansas City Kansas Police Department," Wendy
     said. She seemed unusually excited and bubbly. "Clay said that there are a lot more
     murders in Kansas City than in Shawnee, Lenexa, or any of these smaller, suburban,
     metropolitan areas."
    "Yes," I agreed. "Lots of murders—I'm sure that's a wonderful thing. Nothing like
     job security, right? I know Clay must be thrilled."
    I wanted to tell Wendy that her new husband was a menace to society. If it took one
     to know one, he'd probably be an expert at weeding out killers. "Oh, yes, Mom," Wendy
     said. "We both are. He starts this Monday. I'll have over a week to myself—during
     the days at least—before I start my job."
    "That will be nice, I'm sure," I said, sincerely.
    "So, Mom, you're still determined to go through with this, huh?"
    "Yes, honey, I am."
    "You're going to drive twelve hundred miles to go see some man you only know from
     chatting with him over the Internet, and you don't think that's a bit insane, and
     maybe just a touch impulsive and dangerous? Mom, you don't know this guy from Adam!"
    Gosh, I don't even know Adam. I wasn't going to drive twelve hundred miles to see
     Stone. I said I was going to get to know him better, not "see" him. I am not a liar.
     I am not a liar, I repeated over and over to myself. "Wendy, that's just part of the
     reason I'm going back East. I've always heard the fall colors back in that area are
     fantastic, and I thought while I was back there enjoying the sights, I might as well
     meet Stone somewhere for dinner and a drink. That's all I have in mind. I'll be staying
     in a little bed and breakfast by myself, not at his place. There is absolutely nothing
     for you to worry about. I'll be f-f-fine."
    I looked over at Wendy as she drove, rather erratically, down Seventy-Fifth Street.
     She looked unconvinced. "R-r-really," I added lamely.
    Suddenly the thought of being tortured by the dental hygienist again seemed preferable
     to conversing with my own child. My gums throbbed in an involuntary reaction to the
     recollection of my hour from hell at the dental clinic.
    I changed the subject then and began talking about a three-day sale at the JCPenney
     outlet. The ploy worked. We even stopped at the outlet, and I picked up a Minolta
     Maxxum camera outfit that had been marked down thirty percent. My old camera had become
     unreliable, and I'd have to take pictures of the fall colors back East, if nothing
     else. I, of course, would have to