Ms America and the Whoopsie in Winona Read Online Free PDF Page B

Shanelle concludes. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she wanted to schedule the funeral for this afternoon.”
    “When I saw Pop after the lights came back on at the Giant W, he was really agitated because he didn’t know where Maggie was. Meaning”—I pause for effect—“she was not standing next to him when Ingrid got shot.”
    Trixie gasps. Shanelle speaks. “Well, the cops tested her for gunshot residue, right? Like they tested everybody who was still there. If she had some on her, they’d have found it.”
    “But remember that the killer wore surgical gloves, then flung them and the gun down aisle fourteen.”
    “Do you really think she might’ve done it?” Shanelle wants to know.
    “Well, she might have. She had motive and she had opportunity.”
    “How much do you know about her?” Trixie asks me. “Like why she moved from Winona to Cleveland?”
    “She moved decades ago but I don’t know why. She owns a nail salon in Rocky River. It’s known for Margarita Fridays,” which I’ve always thought was a clever promotion. I’m snarky enough where Maggie’s concerned to doubt she came up with it herself. “She has a son named Donovan, who’s got to be in his forties, who always struck me as kind of a lump. I think he works part-time in the salon—”
    “Doing nails?” Trixie looks aghast.
    “More like running the register.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with men doing nails,” Shanelle points out. “In my experience they do excellent forearm massages.”
    “True,” Trixie allows.
    Shanelle brings us back to Topic A. “Did you catch that remark Maggie made about Ingrid never learning to cook because she had so much money she didn’t need to?”
    “That’s the big difference between those two,” I say. “Money. Ingrid lives in this big fancy house and Maggie’s in a tiny condo. That she rents.” I know she wants to move in with Pop and I’m also well aware that she tried to prod him into buying them a condo in Florida. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got her eye on his pension.
    Uh oh. I’m thinking just like my mother.
    Trixie pipes up. “And if Maggie is Ingrid’s only close relation—”
    I nod. “—there’s a good chance she’ll inherit everything.”
    Shanelle emits a low whistle. We look around us. In this case everything is a lot.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    “I know we’re supposed to be thinking about the murder,” Trixie says, “but I’m dying to know what’s going on between you and Jason!”
    I take a deep breath. I hate even to say the words because that makes the whole thing more real. “Remember that NASCAR driver Jason flew down to Miami with? He offered Jason a job on his pit crew.”
    Trixie’s hands fly to her face. “Oh my Lord!”
    Shanelle eyes me keenly. “That’s great and it’s not great, right?”
    “It’s a real feather in Jason’s cap, I’ll tell you that. Lots of guys finish pit school but almost none of them get jobs on crews. Certainly not right off the bat. And those jobs pay well, too. But here’s the thing. It’s not in Cleveland.”
    “I bet it’s in Charlotte!” Trixie squeals. “Can you believe it? Just when I’m moving away!”
    “Jason and I have never moved anywhere. We’ve both lived in Cleveland all our lives. And now—” Tears rise to my eyes.
    Shanelle rubs my leg. “Girl, you can’t stop change.”
    Trixie hands me a tissue. I blow my nose. Between the tears and the congestion, I’m a snot-ridden mess. After a while I can talk again. “I kind of got used to our being separated while he was in pit school, you know? And of course I’ve been traveling for Ms. America. But this is different. This isn’t a short-term thing. It’s—”
    “Open-ended,” Shanelle supplies.
    “I think you’d have to move with him,” Trixie says. “You can’t let a husband move away from you and expect everything to be A-OK.”
    Shanelle arches her brows. “Especially not a husband who looks like yours.”
    “You should