Pink Balloons and Other Deadly Things (Mystery Series - Book One) Read Online Free PDF

before then, give Rolly a buzz.”
    His associate. Roland Archer Tobias. Maybe I’m overly sensitive, but would you trust a lawyer whose initials spell RAT?
    “Yeah, okay, I will,” I fibbed. “Have a nice trip.”
    It was undoubtedly going to be a very nice trip. I should know. I’d paid for it.
    I’d barely hung up when the phone rang again. I grabbed it.
    It was Meg. “Carrie, I’ve gotta split just for a day. I know it’s a god-awful time to leave you. I'm really sorry. You going to be all right?”
    My heart sank. If ever I needed my support system, I needed it now. Besides which there’s a part of Meg that’s amazingly street-smart, and I value her advice. I wanted to plead with her to wait a few days, but I knew I couldn’t.
    “Sure. Don't worry.”
    I knew better than to ask where she was going. Every week Meg disappears for a day or two. She has an arrangement with Franny, the antique dealer from down the street. Franny’s a kind of antique herself who dresses in early 1900s-type clothes that she buys at flea markets and re-styles. She only opens her own shop on weekends when the tourists are plentiful and is always happy to pick up a little extra cash baby-sitting Meg's Place.
    At first I thought Meg’s weekly jaunts had something to do with her passion for photography, because she always took her camera. But I never saw any pictures, and she was invariably depressed when she returned. So naturally I concluded a man was involved.
    “I’ll try to get back by tomorrow night. And I’ll be taking the bus, so you can use my car while the Gestapo has yours.”
    “Okay. Thanks.”
    “Don’t let that cop character bully you, hear?”
    “I’ll try not to. Have a good trip, Meg.”
    Feeling frightened and alone, I hung up. I thought about calling my dad in Massachusetts. We’re unusually close. My mother died when I was three and I have no siblings, so the bond between my father and me is a strong one. But he remarried a few years ago and is presently recuperating from a bypass, so I deep-sixed the idea. It would hardly facilitate his recovery to hear that his daughter is a murder suspect.
    As I stacked the dishes in the sink, I couldn’t stop the wheels turning. If Meg had a lover—-a married man, perhaps--knowing my feelings on the subject, I’d be the last person she'd tell. On the other hand, seeing your lover for only a day or so a week seems an awfully unsatisfactory arrangement. Still, in the years I’ve been practicing, I’ve come across all kinds of oddball setups. Some high-powered career women deliberately choose married men because it meshes with their lifestyles. Problems with this type only arise if either party suddenly decides they want the whole package-—e.g., Erica. The other type are usually women with no self-esteem who are willing to take whatever crumbs their lovers toss their way. Meg doesn’t fit either category.
    Past conversations with Meg played through my mind. She’d been careful, I realized, never to let anything slip. I had no clue as to where and how she was spending those days and nights.
    I was reminded of what she’d said in her shop this afternoon. When had Rich told her about the night he’d left?
    Meg knows Rich, of course. She’s been at the house several times when he’s come to pick up the kids. Maybe the subject had come up when they were making small talk waiting for me to get the children ready, but that didn’t seem a likely topic for casual chit-chat.
    I dropped the chicken bones into the garbage and started the dishwasher. Then, steeling myself for what was sure to be a difficult conversation, I dialed Rich’s number. Aside from wanting to assure Allie and Matt that he was okay, I planned to pump him about who besides me might have wanted Erica Vogel off the face of the earth, and finally, I needed to have the nagging voice inside my head silenced. As absolutely disloyal as it made me feel, I wanted to know when he’d had that conversation