Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

position at the kitchen counter where she was mashing potatoes.
    “Detecting what? What are you two up to now?” my mother asked, first looking at me and then my grandmother, who was playing a game of cards with my sister.
    “I only told Samantha,” Meme said in her own defense.
    My sister gave me a contrite look. “Sorry.”
    I hung my coat up by the back door and looked out the window. My niece and nephew were out in the back sledding down the hill while Riley whimpered at my feet.
    “Can I let him out?” I asked my mother.
    “You can try, but he won’t go. He hates the snow and he wants the kids to come in and play.”
    I only saw my dad in the back with the kids and asked Sam where her husband, Michael, was.
    “Helping his dad put up some new shelving in the garage. I told him it was too cold but they have a space heater. We’re here for the free food.”
    I turned my attention to my grandmother. “I thought you were having friends over?”
    “That’s tonight. Your sister picked me up and I love Mable’s pot roast.”
    “You never answered me, Alex. Detecting what?” my mother asked again. The woman was like a dog with a bone.
    “There was a murder last night at the pickleball game Meme and I went to.”
    My mother, Mable Harris, a tall purposeful woman, took the pot roast out of the pan, scooped out the carrots and onions and proceeded to make gravy.
    “You might as well tell me all about it because I know you two and you’ll keep snooping until you catch the killer. So what was it this time? A stabbing? How about a gunshot smack in the middle of the eyes. We haven’t had one of those yet,” my mother said.
    My sister turned in her seat. “The man was pickled.”
    “Pickled? What the heck does that mean?” My mom pulled a gravy boat from a cabinet and placed it on the counter next to the stove.
    “Someone shoved a very large German pickle down his throat,” I added. “It wasn’t pretty, trust me. As a matter of fact, it was about the most gruesome thing I’ve ever seen.”
    My mother put both hands on the counter and just stared at me for a few moments, then she turned, reached for a small dish of gherkins she had placed on a Lazy Susan along with some carrots and olives, and dumped them in the trash.

 
     
     
Chapter 9
     
     
    Fortified with a full stomach, I gave Meme a ride home and decided I might as well talk to the calendar boys while I was in the neighborhood. Meme and her friends lived in a lovely community of small homes built especially for seniors. It was a great place for her to be and she had tons of friends. Truth is, my grandmother had no problem meeting people and making good friends. People just loved Meme. Some, like generic Viagra Fred, liked her too much, but she didn’t let his half-hearted advances get in the way of their friendship.
    After dropping Meme off I drove around the block to Fred’s house and was happy to find both Walter Hofstader and Howard Wronkovich with him. Howard was beyond being a clean freak and requested guests to his home remove their shoes and wash their feet before entering. There was no way I was doing that in this weather and was delighted I wouldn’t have to make a special trip over to his house.
    “Alex, Meme said you were on the case. You’re going to get some good training on this one. Everyone wanted Humphrey dead,” Fred said with too much enthusiasm, considering someone had died.
    “Including you?” I asked him. Fred was a tall, thin man with wiry hair, who lost his wife many years ago. He had been pretty lonely when he first moved in, but once Meme and Theresa got hold of him, he opened up and sometimes I just considered him one of the girls, he spent so much time hanging out with my grandmother and her gang. I certainly didn’t peg him for a cold-blooded killer, but I had been wrong before. If there was one thing I learned since finding my first dead body in a mannequin factory a couple of years ago, it was that everyone