Murder by Manicure Read Online Free PDF Page B

other next.
    "Come on, Spooks, let's go for a walk,” she said, reaching for the poodle's leash, which hung on a hook in the kitchen. Hearing the familiar rattle, Spooks raced into the room and stood patiently while she fixed his restraint. She scratched his cream-colored coat before straightening her spine. Morning walks were their routine because she was often too tired after work to do much more than let him out into the backyard.
    Outside, the January air was cool but bracing as they headed down the street. Green Hills was an exclusive town house community in western Broward County. Marla liked being near major shopping centers. She hunted for special outfits at Tally's boutique; otherwise, sales at Burdines drew her attention.
    "Remind me to ask Tally if she got in the new spring line yet,” Marla told Spooks, stopping while he sniffed the grass. It was impossible to move at a brisk pace when he halted every few feet either to do his thing or follow scents. Letting her mind wander, she wondered what Vail had learned about Jolene's death. Whenever it is, he won't tell you. He gets closemouthed when on a case. Besides, this may all have been a tragic accident.
    "Hey, Marla,” called her neighbor Goat as she rounded the corner toward her home. “How's it going?” Wearing a sheepskin vest over a plaid long-sleeved shirt and jeans, the young man crouched on the ground. He held an open jar in one hand and a fly swatter in the other. Strands of straw-colored hair stuck out from a raccoon cap on his head.
    Marla's mouth quirked into a smile. “I'm just fine, Goat. What are you doing?"
    "Creepy crawly into the brink, come on, little fellows, into the drink.” Making kissing noises, he shook the jar, which contained a sprinkling of water.
    Marla glanced at his closed front door, wondering why she didn't hear the usual sound track of animals emanating from the interior. “How's your menagerie? Are you looking to add to your collection?"
    Rising to his feet, Goat undulated his body. “Come on, you lizard buggers. I'm gonna get you! Come out, come out, wherever you are. Junior has to eat today,” he explained.
    "Junior?"
    His expression brightened. “The sweet serpent of my life,” he crooned. “Would you like to see her?” Focusing on Spooks, who strained at the leash to get away, he leered. “I bet Junior would be glad to see him."
    "Ah, no thanks.” Marla backed away, her eyes wandering to his van, emblazoned with “The Gay Groomer.” Did any of his clients lose their pets during the grooming process? No, silly. Goat had been kind enough to retrieve Spooks when he ran away from home several months ago after the break-in. Goat had rescued her precious poodle, who had emerged unscathed from his host's lair.
    "Have you seen Moss lately?” she asked, changing the subject. “His wife said he had a new limerick to tell me."
    "Nope. The old guy's been out a lot. He's probably busier in his retirement than when he worked as a carpenter.” Goat gave her a keen appraisal. “I could use a new holding pen for Gertrude. I should ask the codger to build one for me. You really need to meet my friends inside, Marla. Ba-a-a,” he imitated, doing a sheep walk.
    "No time today, sorry.” Marla hastened away, feeling the cold wind bite through her clothes and chill her bones. Maybe when Dalton accompanied her, she'd venture into Goat's house. Her neighbor might be one card short in his deck, but he seemed harmless. It was his so-called friends who bothered her.
    After releasing Spooks in her kitchen, she rubbed her arms to restore the circulation. Putting the heat on was an option. In south Florida, heating systems were as inefficient as air-conditioning up north: inadequate and never the right temperature. But it might take the edge off the cold in her town house, so she upped the thermostat to seventy degrees.
    While she was microwaving a cup of coffee, the phone rang.
    "Hi, Ma,” she said upon recognizing Anita's lilting