Rest in Pieces Read Online Free PDF Page A

set the cupcakes down on his messy desk and gestured to the chair closest to him. He dropped his hand and stepped back just a bit. Instead of sitting in his desk chair, he leaned on the desk edge near me. He was so close that his knee bumped my thigh, and his crotch met me at eye level. It was hard not to look, it being two feet away and all.
    Struggling a bit to move my eyes upward, I forced myself to focus on his face.
    “What can I do for you?” Interest sparkled in his eyes, and I wondered if he’d caught me checking him out.
    “I was hoping you could help me with something.” Did I just jump in and ask for the Molly Miars file, or did I try to finesse it out of him?
    “Cupcake?” I leaned over and opened the box. Finesse it was. I grabbed the biggest one. True, they were meant to ply Ben for information, but I was hungry. I was also the product of two older brothers who lived by the law that whoever got there first got the biggest cupcake.
    I unwrapped the cupcake and took a huge bite. Tart, cream cheese icing and blood–red–dyed dark chocolate cake swirled inside my mouth. My taste buds high–fived each other, and I took a moment to enjoy myself.
    “Can’t, I’m low carb.” He patted his trim stomach. “Watching my weight.”
    That made me feel bad…sort of. I knew I should go low carb, but I have a loyalty problem. Carbs are my friends and have gotten me through some really tough times. I feel that I need to support them in this cruel, low–carb world we live in. It’s the least I can do for my best buddy red velvet.
    I chewed the world’s biggest bite and wondered if it would be rude to take the cupcakes and lattes with me when I left. I didn’t want them to go to waste and he didn’t want them.
    After the eternity it took for me to chew and swallow, I got right to it. Finesse was overrated. “I want to talk to you about Molly Miars.”
    His smile drooped around the edges. “I don’t understand.”
    “She was my friend.” And I wondered why we only buried her head. “She didn’t seem the type to … you know … overdose. Max adored her.”
    Was it too soon to ask to see her file?
    “I don’t know what I can tell you.” He shrugged. “As I heard it, she was found at her house. She’d been dead for a couple of days.”
    “Who found her?” And did they find all of her?
    “Chief Stanford got the call. Someone from the school called wanting us to do a welfare check, because she hadn’t shown up for work in two days, and they hadn’t heard from her.”
    Dennis Stanford had the body of a professional wrestler and the good sense God gave Cool Whip. Last Christmas, I heard that he’d reported his car stolen because he’d forgotten where he parked it. Two weeks later, he got a call from the Target store manager asking him to please come pick up his car. And that wasn’t the first time. The man obviously had a memory problem. The only reason he won the sheriff’s spot was because he’d run unopposed, and the good citizens of Lakeside could count on him to do as he was told.
    Ben crossed his arms. “What’s with all the questions?”
    “She was my friend, and I can’t quite reconcile the facts. She didn’t do drugs, so the idea of her overdosing is, well …” I took a sip of my mocha latte, “hard to take.”
    His eyes softened. Pity wasn’t my favorite emotion to inspire. The last time I’d seen him, he had the same look in his eyes.
    “Any chance I can look at her file?” I smiled sweetly.
    He looked around like he was afraid of being overheard and then leaned close to me. “Stay away from this case, Mustang. It’s all wrong. Stanford threw procedure out the window. He handled everything himself and he isn’t talking.” He whispered close to her ear. “No one’s talking about it.”
    In a small town, the only thing more dangerous than gossip was the lack of it. If Ben was right and something bad had happened to Molly and no one was talking about it—it must be