Make, Take, Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

snuggled in its baby blanket of white. The thick boughs of the evergreens outside my front door would genuflect under their pristine mantles. Noses would turn red as Santa’s costume, and cheeks would flush pink as if pinched by elfin fingers.
    There was much to recommend this time of year.
    After all, if it hadn’t been winter, that piece of flesh I found in our Dumpster would have stunk to high heavens. My flesh still crawled as I remembered the feel of the dead skin. I shook my head to erase the sensation and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. It was going to be a long evening. Bama and I had all sorts of inventory to shelve in advance of our pre-Christmas special event.
    She came back from ringing up a nice sale and arranged a display of “Suggested Gifts” on an uppermost shelf next to where I was working.
    “I’d almost think you were trying to avoid your cop friend.”
    Would she ever shut up?
    Bama assumed I hadn’t heard her. She spoke louder. “I said, the way you’re acting, anyone would think you were trying to avoid him.”
    It shocked me that she read my intentions so clearly. I didn’t even bother to ask, “Him, who?” I knew she meant Detweiler. Detective Chad Detweiler. She was right. I was trying to avoid the hunky detective. Which was why I turned my back to her so she couldn’t see my face. I had to stay strong. I was not going to continue my relationship with Detective Chad Detweiler.
    I’d given my word to his wife, Brenda.

As I puttered around the store arranging stacks and stacks of lovely paper, my mind replayed the whole ugly scene at the hospital. After being slapped up the side of the head twice with a gun, I had needed ten stitches. Still dopey and pain-stricken, I opened my eyes in the middle of the night to focus on a nurse at the foot of my bed. Her back was to me. She turned toward me, and my breath caught in my throat. There stood a very, very angry Brenda Detweiler. A light from the hospital hallway outlined her thin shape and her lank hair. For a moment, I thought I was mistaken. Then she stepped closer. Her eyes glittering, she moved to my side and hissed, “Look at you. Helpless. All doped up.” Her spittle splattered my face as she continued, “Here in my hospital! Lucky me! Because I’ve had enough of you!”
    Grabbing my shoulders with strong hands, she shook me like a rag doll. “Hear me? Enough! You stay away from my husband. Understand? Stay the heck away! Chad’s mine!”
    My fingers flayed the air, searched for the call button, and seized upon it.
    She shrieked over and over, “Stay away from him! Understand? Stay away!”
    My thumb pressed the plastic circle. I saw the light panel brighten with a dot of red, but my shock was so great that I couldn’t speak, couldn’t argue. Instead, I winced with pain as a jagged knife of agony stabbed deep in my skull. A gurgling sound rose from my throat. My eyes rolled back in my head with the force of her anger.
    Suddenly, she dropped me. I fell back onto my pillows. Her hands flew up to her cheeks and she pulled at her skin, distorting her features. “You don’t understand,” she whimpered. “He can’t leave me. Not yet. He loves you. I know he does. I see him staring out into space. He won’t speak. He won’t eat. It’s like he isn’t there! I can’t lose him … not yet. I won’t lose him. He’s mine!”
    With a lunge, she seized my shoulders again. She yanked me toward her, the whites of her eyeballs blazing with fury. “Say it! Tell me you’ll stay away! Tell me! Or else! Or … I’ll … I’ll …”
    I gasped and tried to stay conscious. Her words made little sense. Pain assailed me in waves that caused my stomach to spasm and my throat to constrict.
    A thought: She wants to kill me.
    And another: I’m going to die.
    Either she would do me in, or the aggravation to my injuries would finish me off. My stitches would split. My concussion would worsen. Instinctively I collapsed on myself,